Falling Hard, page 10
We pull into the parking lot, and I’m suddenly nauseous. The thought of Kyle leaving overwhelms me, and the butterflies in my stomach are going crazy. Mentally I want to put a plan in place that keeps him here, but know that’s not what he wants. I can’t control the situation, and I don’t like feeling helpless. Planning, maneuvering, and taking action—those are my strongest attributes.
We shuffle into the doctor’s office without speaking another word about it. I love my brother with my whole heart. He’s experienced so much tragedy and self-destruction that I know he’s right. He came out the other side of it all, so I know I’ll survive, too—I just don’t want to experience the inevitable heartbreak that I know is coming.
Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to take from this relationship with Kyle. He’s one of the many views from the mountainside on my journey, and maybe—just maybe—if fate allows, he could be my view from the summit. I need to start living my life, and if that means we’re together, then it will be. If not, at least I got close to him and I’m a better human being for it.
A nurse calls my name and I jump up enthusiastically. My first order of business is to heal this damned ankle. Let’s get to it.
A third-year resident performs my evaluation, and concludes that everything appears to be healing well. I advise him of the tightness that I’ve been feeling lately in my calf, explaining that it’s not consistent but it’s definitely painful. He explains that my muscle is experiencing atrophy that could create slight twinges of pain with the nerve damage caused by the injury itself and the subsequent surgery. He advises me to stay hydrated, and to keep moving as best I can because immobility is not good for leg injuries, and can cause blood clots to form in the veins.
We leave the office and Nick offers to take me out to lunch, but I decline. I’ve got scores of edits to work on. They want to start releasing some of the photos for recruitment purposes, so I’m on a deadline. Plus, Kyle’s been out of town in Los Angeles for a few days and comes back this afternoon. I’m going to start enjoying my mountainside views today.
He helps me back into my condo. “Hey, Nick—thanks for the big brother talk and advice today. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s only advice if you take it. If not, it’s just me blathering on about life,” he says before kissing me on the cheek and leaving.
I set about starting dinner and working on the photo edits. Kris, my intern, has taken some excellent shots from the floor. Even the remote pictures are starting to work out better than planned, especially for the basketball team as a whole. I’m proud of the work that’s gone into making this contract a success. Day 1 of living for me is working out well so far.
I send off the photo edits to Matt, the AD, for his approval. I browse through my emails and come across a solicitation for a sports photo contest for Photo District News (PDN) Magazine. Normally, I would just ignore these having learned in school the unspoken rule that ‘real’ photographers ignore contests. After all, who could judge your own eye’s perspective? But if you have hopes and dreams of having your work showcased for a major photography institution like I do, you have to put your work out there to be judged. This is fate talking to me.
Starting a new folder in my edits of my best pictures, I instantly know which soccer and football photos to include. I chuck in a few of Kyle and the Golden Bears that I love so far. The contest deadline isn’t until April 1st, which leaves plenty of time to round out my collage of photo submissions.
Nick is right. I already know what my passion is and why I do it. I love capturing the indelible moments in life. I need to work on how to use my passion in order to live my life to its full potential. The rest will come into my life at the moment that it’s supposed to. I have to believe in that. My mind is jumping in a million different directions with possibilities.
I settle myself onto the couch and turn on Anita Baker’s Rapture CD. It was my mom’s favorite. It calms the chaos in my mind, and always leaves me with perspective. It’s like she’s here with me, having a musical heart-to-heart about life and love. I lean back and close by eyes, letting the lyrics wash over me.
I fall asleep, but wake up to find Kyle is gently tucking a blanket around me. He brushes a soft kiss on my forehead. When he sees that I’m awake, he smiles. “Hey, Blaze. I’m here,” he whispers. He says the same thing every time he walks through that door. Never, I’m home, but always I’m here. It’s another reminder that we’re temporary, just like Nick’s life before the draft.
Chapter 15
Kyle
I’ve been gone for two days to LA, and come home to find that Aran has fallen asleep sitting on the couch while listening to her Anita Baker CD. She is simply beautiful, and the haunting notes of the music give me pause. I could come home to this woman every evening for the rest of my life, but I can’t entertain that thought. I can’t even consider it as a distant dream. My NBA dreams come first, with no room for anything else.
She has dreams of her own to follow. I will not be the one who interferes with that. If the fates allow, we’ll be together again. Karma doesn’t have a menu; you get served what you deserve. I believe that with every fiber of my being.
I edge closer to her, kneel down on the couch, and spread the throw across her. When I lean in to kiss her forehead, she startles, then wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer. I end up lying down with my head in her lap. She starts scratching my beard, and I melt right into the couch. It’s the best feeling in the world right now. “I missed you,” she murmurs.
“Only because you’ve had no one to bring you breakfast in bed,” I tease her.
“No, because I’ve had no one to give me an orgasm like you do,” she shoots back at me. “I think I’m spoiled. Or even worse addicted.”
I laugh out loud. This woman drives me insane. My dick’s been hard more over the last few months with her than I think it’s been in my entire existence, and yes, that’s counting the teenage years when it was always hard, no matter what.
“So, you’ve been feeling neglected?” I ask.
“No, not neglected. I would say…lonely,” she clarifies.
“Alright. I’ll remedy your loneliness later because right now, I smell dinner and my stomach is growling,” I warn her. “I’m starving. I’ve been on a bus for seven hours and I don’t want to sit anymore.”
I get up and finish preparing the sides for dinner. I like how she starts dinner and I usually finish it. We work well as a team. I hear her hobble off into the bedroom, and within minutes she comes back out wearing comfortable but skimpy shorts and a tank top. She’s pulled her hair up into one of those messy buns and is wearing no makeup. Fuck, she doesn’t play fair, at all. Right now, I’m ready to throw dinner in the trash and just eat her.
“You’ve got to fucking be kidding me?” I ask her. “I won’t be able to eat dinner with you dressed that way. I don’t even know my name when you’re dressed that way.”
She raises her eyebrow and smiles coyly, slightly shrugging her shoulders. In essence, communicating that I need to simply deal with it. Oh, she’s gonna get it later. I set both plates on the counter, and we proceed to eat dinner in silence at the kitchen island. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I’ve got a million ideas floating around my head about how I’m gonna fuck the shit out of her later. She won’t feel lonely after I’m done with her tonight.
She’s got this way about her that melts my heart and draws me in. It’s her little quirks that make her adorable, like the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s thinking, or furrows her eyebrows and squints her eyes at the screen when her digital software isn’t bending to her will. But when things are going her way, she hums the song Sugar by Robin Schulz. Coming out half-dressed in skimpy lounge-wear only adds to her magnetic pull on me.
Even Luke notes the change in me. He and some other friends drove down to LA to root us on. We hang out at the hotel together, and everyone was giving me shit about not being around anymore. Word got out that I’m staying with Aran to help her through the mess that I caused. After the free pussy comments calmed down and the rest of the idiots left, Luke and I finally got to talk.
“I was skeptical at first about you staying with her, but I think it’s been good for you. You seem happier and more grounded—more focused, maybe,” he says.
“C’mon, don’t bullshit me, man. I think it’s just that I got away from the campus drama that kept me, at minimum, distracted by Kelly’s bullshit,” I reply.
“Could be. Not sure, but you’re playing like a badass, studying like a man on a mission, and just killin’ it. Where was she seven years ago, is all I’m wondering,” he says.
“I don’t think I would have appreciated her seven years ago,” I murmur. My life was totally different then. Mom wasn’t sick. Our only worries were where the week’s groceries were coming from and which foster kid was gonna create the next family issue. I thought I was an adult back then, but boy was I wrong. I was just a kid dealing with adult issues. Now I have mental fortitude and some problem solving skills that ease the stress of life. Mom won’t have to worry about anything anymore.
Speaking of which, I need to work out plans with Nick and Jenna to care for Aran over Christmas break. I’ll have to tell Aran that I’m going home to Colorado for a week. I dread that conversation. I really don’t want to go, but I won’t let Mom spend Christmas in that place by herself. I wish she could come here. I could take care of both my girls. Where the hell did that thought come from? Both my girls? Luke was right, I am my mother’s son.
Aran takes my plate from me, and snaps my thoughts back to the present. “No, I’ll take that,” I tell her.
“I’ve got it,” she says as she carries our plates to the sink. “Who do you think carried my plates while you were gone?”
“I don’t even want to think about that,” I say as I pick her up and carry her into the living room, then deposit her in front of the couch.
I untie the strings of her shorts and shimmy them down her thighs until they drop to the carpet. Dear god help me, she’s got that emerald green and black thong on again. They ride high on her hips and I slide my hand around to caress her bare ass. Jeez, that ass.
I glide her thong down her thighs and toss them across the room. She lifts her casted leg up to rest it on the edge of the couch, opening up her legs to me. Her pussy is already slick with wetness and I drop to my knees, licking and sucking her until her legs shudder. She pulls at my hair and scrapes her nails against my scalp in that way that drives me nuts. I ease her down so that she’s lying on the floor, then walk into the bedroom to strip off my clothes and fetch a condom. When I come back to her, she’s rubbing her clit, trying to keep the feeling going.
I kiss up her stomach and pull her breasts out of her bra cups, drawing her hardened nipples into my mouth. She takes my hand and starts rubbing it on her clit, but I pull away. She’s gonna receive tonight the way I want to give it. Her face draws up in a pout, puckering those sexy-as-hell lips as she watches me roll the condom over my hard cock. Teasing will come later, but right now, I need to drive myself deep into her pussy just to take the edge off.
I scoop her up and carry her over to the sliding glass door in the living room, pressing her back into it and wrapping her legs around me. Her wet pussy slides over my cock, and we groan.
She clamps onto my shoulders and her nails dig into my skin every time I thrust into her. I push harder and faster, until my name breathlessly escapes her lips. My hands grip the backs of her thighs right at her ass. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m an ass man. Holding hers in all its perfection makes my dick even harder. She starts grinding onto me trying to get closer and put more friction on her clit. She slides her hand between us and rubs herself furiously. “Oh my god, Kyle, I’m so close. Faster.”
The weight of her cast is pulling her leg down, so I move my hands to the small of her back and move away from the glass. When I stop thrusting, she squeals in protest. I drop to my knees and lay down on top of her, then flip us over so that she’s on top, being careful not to twist her bad leg. I grasp her hips and start grinding into her and she arches her back and picks up the rhythm, riding me. Her stomach rolls like a belly dancer, grinding on me, back and forth, then in circles. She reaches behind her and cups my balls, squeezing and massaging them. She sits upright and increases her rhythm, kneading her breasts and staring at me with those smoldering green eyes.
Aran’s movements become frantic and her legs start to shudder. She leans backward and places her hands on my thighs, burying my cock in her to my balls. She cries out and her pussy spasms, squeezing me until I can’t hold back anymore. I grasp her hips and shove into her one final time, then follow her over the edge. She collapses against my chest, completely spent.
I run my fingers through her hair as I catch my breath, and love the way it curls around my fingers. I breath in the scent of her coconut shampoo. She’s sexy as fuck, and a wildcat in the sack. But that’s not all; she’s also smart as hell and doesn’t take shit from anyone. God, I think I love her. Holy fuck, I love her. The thought terrifies me, because I have to leave her; I have no choice if I want to follow my dreams. I’ve worked too long and too hard to stop now, when I’m so close.
If I’m honest with myself, I fell for her weeks ago, when she was having a rough night with pain. We cuddled in bed for hours until she fell asleep. I stayed up most of the night watching her sleep, and kept smoothing her wild hair off her face. The need to simply touch her was too strong to resist. That’s when I knew she had me. She fucking owns me, and doesn’t even know it.
She’s my soul mate. We’ve had this connection since the moment I laid eyes on her in the gym. The bond has only gotten stronger the more intimate we’ve become and now I absolutely can’t resist her.
Scooping her up again, I carry her into the bathroom and set her on the long counter. Wetting a wash cloth with warm water, I wipe her down while kissing at her cheeks and lips. Her bra straps slide down her arms, and I reach behind her to unhook it, letting it fall to the floor. I carry her to the bed, lifting back the blankets and depositing her softly inside. I crawl in with her and wrap my arms around her waist, then lay my head down on her stomach, giving us both time to recover.
She plays with my hair, stroking her fingers through its length. That usually wakes my dick up, but even it’s tired. I’m exhausted from two nights in a strange bed, one hardcore game that we almost lost, and a long fucking bus ride to get home to her. She’s been on my mind all day long, and now I’ll probably think about her all night.
Her next surgery isn’t until mid-January. One month until she starts to walk again, and one month before I’ve got to walk away from her. I can’t take her away from her dreams any more than I can give up my own, no matter how much I would love for her to come with me.
Coach is always reminding us of what awaits us after graduation. Gentle reminders that if we keep our dicks wrapped up, then our futures are a blank line where we can write in anything we want. That idea used to sound nice. I bought into it hook, line and sinker. Now, I hate it. I want to write Aran on that line and I can’t. It’s too selfish, to her and to my mother.
Chapter 16
Aran
Today is the last day I’ll spend with Kyle before he leaves on Christmas break. His flight to Colorado is tomorrow afternoon. He’s gone to class and then to practice, but promised that tonight was our Christmas. I finally got around to putting up the Christmas tree, and wrapping the few Christmas presents I’ve been able to buy during my quick shopping trips with Jenna. Tonight’s dinner is planned; now all I have to do is wait. I never realized how quiet my apartment is when I’m alone. It’s going to be a long week without him.
I perform my weekly chores and hobble into the bedroom to put away laundry, pushing the basket across the floor with my crutches. I’ve offered him the second dresser drawer down several times. I pull on the knobs and it glides open easily—still empty. Instead, he lives out of his duffel bag. He’s a typical guy—always wearing rumpled clothes that don’t match—but to me, it’s another reminder that we’re temporary. Every day he leaves with that bag full of his possessions, and I can’t help but wonder if he plans on returning.
The pain in my calf is worse than usual today. It started in the middle of the night, and almost had me in tears. I thought it was a muscle cramp, but I’ve done everything Dr. Google suggests yet it’s getting worse. It’s an excruciating pain that feels like someone is digging their fingernails into me. I finally broke down and took a pain pill, which is giving me some relief but not much. Something’s wrong.
Finally, I call the doctor’s office and ask to speak to the nurse. She regurgitates everything that I already read on Google, leaving me more frustrated than I was when I called. Once I explained to her that I’ve already done all of the things she’s suggested, she advises me to go to an Urgent Care or the Emergency Room. I really don’t have time for that; I’m supposed to be at Kyle’s practice in a few hours. He wasn’t going to have time to pick me up, so I was going to call an Uber to drop me off. Guess they’ll be dropping me off at the ER instead.
The laundry is done and put away, so I call Kris and explain what’s going on. He promises to get to basketball practice on time and take care of everything. I pull up my Uber app and request a ride. Within a few minutes, I receive a message that someone should arrive shortly. I hustle myself down the stairs and wait in the parking lot, zipping off a quick group text to Jenna, Nick, and Kyle to let them know what’s going on.
A: Going to ER, severe pain in casted leg. I will advise later.
