I’m so fucking tired. Sleeping in my car outside Aran’s condo every night for the past month is killing me, especially when I’m not really sleeping. I watch her door and windows all night long, dozing off every now and again. Occasionally, I go into her place and check on her after she goes to sleep, when I feel the need to see her. Lately, that feeling is getting stronger and stronger, but I have to resist.

I almost lost my scholarship thanks to our relationship. Coach Hack found out about us. Fucking gossipers and jealous motherfuckers. I swear, sometimes men are worse than women. He confronted me about it, and explained the ramifications of my actions. All I could do was own up to it, and explain the responsibility that I felt. He has forbidden me to see her while she is under contract with the university, which runs through the end of March, after tournaments.

The Oscar Robertson Trophy finalists will be announced at the end of the month. Coach believes I’m in the running, especially with the pictures that Aran has taken. My stats are rockin’. My performance has been spectacular. It’s wearing me out trying to maintain this pace, but I guess there’s plenty of time to sleep after graduation. At least I’m in the home stretch. Tournaments are in a few weeks, and then I get a break.

Luke hasn’t said a word to me about the current chaos in my life. He must know Aran and I parted ways, but he’s offered no opinion or advice. I haven’t asked him for it either. It’s my life and I need to fucking figure it out.

The one good thing I’ve got going right now is that my mom is doing well. She’s responding to this new medicine from the research study that we got her into right before Christmas break. She had an initial reaction to something at first, causing me to leave early for break. I missed getting to spend a final night with Aran, and I hate that I left without telling her where I was going, but worry for Mom consumed me. She’s stable now. Her blood work is looking better and the Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is almost in remission. She might even make it to graduation.

Aran is back on both feet now. I finally saw her with her red Converse on. It’s been three weeks since her surgery—and the last time I touched her. She probably hates me. She ignores me at practices and games, going about her tasks in the gym like I’m not even there. I miss the little non-verbal queues we used to tease each other with. She made me so fucking happy. She’s the one thing I did right, and also my biggest fuck-up.

Our relationship is strictly business now, and I hate it. I can’t even talk to her about what happened. Coach is afraid she’ll cancel her contract, which she has the right to do because of my proposition. So, I stay outside her place every night, thanking the gods above that she didn’t change her lock and that her condo association doesn’t have a security guard on patrol.

Every night, I sit in the car in the peace and quiet of the night thinking and planning for my future. I’ve gone through a whole notebook trying to write out my goals and mapping a plan for my future. It’s actually an assignment for a business class that is due in March, but it’s something that I needed to do no matter what. My mom always wrote everything down, and I picked up the habit from her. The calendar in my phone would probably drive a normal person crazy.

I’ve penciled Aran into my future plans as many times as I have erased her. There’s room for her there, but I can’t ask her to go with me when I don’t even know where I’m going. So, I erase her and pawn the thought off on another day. One step forward, two steps backward is how I feel at the moment.

I came to terms with the fact that I fell in love with her weeks ago. I even told my mom about her, and that’s saying something from the man who only shares with Luke. Aran doesn’t know anything about my mom. It’s not that I’m hiding her or her illness, but I didn’t want to talk about my mom after Aran told me of her mom passing away.

I pull out my phone and open it up to my text messages. I scroll to the one Jenna sent me with the picture. It’s Aran coming out of what looks like a dressing room with a black bra and panties on. She’s absolutely, fucking magnificent. Her one eyebrow is cocked up in question. Her smile is timid. Her new blond streaks in her hair are sexy. This is why I call her Blaze. She sets my insides on fire. I read the text that came with it for the thousandth time. Don’t be an ass and toss this away. She loves you. And I know you love her. Talk to her. She’s tough as steel, but she also has a forgiving heart. Well Jenna, I’m counting on that, when the time is right.

I read the next text from Jenna from the other day, it says, “FYI…her birthday is March 17th, if you didn’t know already.” I didn’t know. So thank you. Jenna is kind and caring, and apparently she’s chosen to be my ally in this mess. I like her—she’s spunky. I can see why Nick loves her so much. It’s the kind of relationship example every kid from the streets should have. Then they wouldn’t be so fucked up like I am.

But for now, in this relationship with Aran, I need to retreat. Aran is my future, but I have to plan it first. I can’t have her living in my chaos. I just hope I meant enough to her in our little time together that she waits for me. Jenna says she loves me. I hope that’s true. I’m counting on it to get me through the next few months until graduation.

I have a thousand commitments to make it through before then.