Soul in the Game, page 5
Reggie grabs a second carton of milk and walks out of the kitchen without another word. And I’m left standing in the doorway, gobsmacked. Maybe Reggie isn’t so dumb after all.
I jump in the shower and throw on some clothes, my mind on Nara.
I screwed up with her the other night. Not just by nearly calling her by my dead ex-girlfriend’s name, but by keeping so much of myself guarded from her. She deserves to know the truth about my past—as much of it as I can bear to tell her.
It’s selfish of me, this upwelling of need I feel for Nara. Who the hell knows if I can be as good for her as I think she can be for me. But in this moment, all I know for certain is that this bubbly, smart, kind woman warms me up from the inside out and makes me smile more than anyone has since Shelby died.
The tea shop is full of students working and relaxing, but Charlotte, the owner, comes over to me immediately.
“Mr. Mayhew,” she says with a smile. “That lovely woman you brought by the other evening was in just this morning.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “I need your help with that, actually,” I start. I tell Charlotte what I need, and she sets to work. She even arranges one of her employees to deliver the parcel.
I perch on a stool and stare at a blank sheet of paper, somehow trying to convey my thoughts through the pen without coming off peculiar or desperate. My emotions feel terribly rusty, I’ve been shoving them down and covering them with anger for so long. But I have to let Nara know what’s on my mind. I have to convince her I deserve a second chance.
Finally, I bend over the paper and scrawl a quick note, then seal it up with the parcel and leave, hoping for the best.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nara
"Where are you today, Nara?"
I shake my head in a daze and accept the hand that my stunt partner, Chad, offers me. I hadn’t been paying attention to the cue and had missed my dismount from the stunt. Chad flicked his hands where he balanced me above his head, but I hadn’t twisted, and the only thing that kept me from slamming straight into the ground was a quick spotter at our backs. He’d broken my fall out of the stunt, but we’d both ended up on the mats.
Across the practice gym, Jess eyes me. She flips her long, silky blond ponytail, then tenses and throws herself into the standing back handspring. Her base is there; he grabs her waist as she straightens up from the handspring and vaults her into a full extension, her standing on his hands that are pressed above his head.
The music hits a booming note, and he flicks his wrists. Jess throws her shoulders and tucks her arms to her chest, twisting into a tight dismount. The base catches her easily, and Jess is grinning as she jumps from his arms.
“That is how you do it,” she crows, holding up her hand for a high five.
I can barely contain my groan. Beside me, Chad bristles.
“She’s charming as ever today,” he whispers next to me.
I share a look with him. Chad and Jess are both seniors and had been stunt partners their freshmen year. Apparently it’d ended in a screaming match, and the next year Coach Higgins partnered me with Chad. Though he still bases with Jess’ stunt partner for the show-stopping basket toss.
The thought of the basket toss just makes me think of Ben again, and that pulls my lips down. What the hell happened Saturday night? Everything had been going so well, and then he’d told me to be quiet and practically ran away. The memory of it makes my cheeks burn with shame. Lord, I nearly ….
I know I need to brush it off and move on. He made that especially clear with the one-line text message he sent me the next morning canceling our planned date. I swear, the guy has more mood swings than the entire cheerleading squad.
No date means no basket toss. But dammit, I would destroy the basket toss, if only I’d be given the chance. I toe my white sneaker into the mat and press the back of my hands against my heated cheeks. Coach Higgins probably has no idea how badly I want the stunt. I’m always her girl with a smile, eager to do whatever the team needs, even if that means languishing in a shoulder-sit holding “Defense” signs while Jess gets a tumbling pass.
“Come on,” I say to Chad. “Let’s go again.”
“Wait!” Jess’ green eyes sparkle with malice. “Coach, I wanted to show you something new I’m thinking about for the basket toss.”
Coach Higgins looks up from where she’s walking a couple girls through a new stunt.
“Let’s see it then, Jess.”
“Actually,” I say loudly.
All eyes slice toward me, and my hot cheeks blaze. I smooth a hand over my hair. I’m due for another relaxing treatment—just one more way I strive to blend in with these girls.
“Yeah, Nara?” Coach Higgins looks at me expectantly.
“Actually,” I say again, then take a big breath. “I thought maybe I could try the basket toss.” My nerves get the best of me, and I say in a tumble of words, “you know, if everyone thinks it’d work.”
To my eternal gratitude, Chad straightens his shoulders and nods. “We should go for it, Coach.”
Jess laughs and stalks closer. She flips her ponytail again then grins wide. “Honey, you nearly killed your spotter on the last stunt. I just don’t think you’re worth the risk,” she says, her eyes drilling into mine.
With her back turned to the coach, she glares at me, the challenge in her eyes willing me to look down, to cower. For some odd reason, Ben flashes in my mind. For better or worse, he’d never back down if he knew he was the best choice for something. I jut my chin and stare right back at Jess.
“What are you afraid of, Jess? I just want to try it.”
Jess blinks quickly and her mouth twists, her face contorting with rage for an unguarded moment, then she pulls that perfect mask back over her features and laughs loudly.
“Jeez, girl. What’s gotten into you today? Don’t go all angry on us.”
My chest goes tight, my throat bone dry. Angry. Like a black woman speaking up for herself can be anything other than angry. My heart kicks hard against my ribs, and I can’t swallow back the loathing in my tone.
“What’s gotten into me is that you’re a stone cold bitch,” I snarl.
The practice gym goes suddenly, horribly silent. Like all the air has been sucked out by me uttering the forbidden word. Even Chad and Madison—my two closest allies on the squad—look away from me.
Coach Higgins reacts first. Her lips thin and she points one finger at me. “Nara Robinson, that was totally uncalled for.”
I nearly stumble back against the truth. It was uncalled for. And more than that, more than stooping to calling a teammate a bitch just because I want her stunt, is the lashing rage that boiled through me. Darkness, like what my sister succumbed to. It’s there, hiding in me, ready to swallow me whole if I let it.
I stutter an apology, and Coach calls a quick end to practice. I’m left sore—emotionally and physically—as I trudge home. Even though we’re headed the same way, I walk quickly to stay ahead of Jess all the way back to the Kappa house.
There’s a house dinner tonight that I probably need to shower and dress for, but I can only manage to fling myself onto my bed and cover my head with a pillow. But Lou is right there, and she clicks her laptop shut before I can pull the covers up.
“A package came for you,” she says, nodding toward a silver-papered box on my desk. “Maybe it’s some good liquor to get you out of whatever this funk is.”
I eye Lou, wanting more than anything to be left alone or alternatively have her tumble onto my bed and force me to watch romantic comedies all night. But Lou isn’t that kind of girl.
I drag myself out of bed and over to the package. The paper is thick, the edges creased and pretty floral washi tape holding it closed. I slide a finger under one edge and slowly reveal a small brown box with a piece of torn notebook paper on top.
Can I explain everything over dinner? Until then, here’s something to say I’m sorry.
—Your Englishman, Ben
My heart speeds up, then races faster as I pull out a tin of the soothing tea I sipped at the tea shop the other night and two beautiful, delicate tea cups.
“Oh, your Englishman,” Lou says from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to see her eyeing the note.
“Are you going to call him?”
I press my lips together, uncertainty wriggling through me.
“He ran off mid-kiss, Lou.”
But more than that … I would have done so much more with him if he hadn’t run off. On the porch of my sorority house, for all the damn world to see. He made me so … wanton, so absolutely unconcerned with the ramifications of our actions. And I don’t do anything—get dressed, speak, hell, even smile—without carefully considering it. But with Ben ….
I shake my head and glance at Lou. “He’s not good for me.”
Lou cocks a hip and stares. “That doesn’t answer my question. Do you want to call him?”
God, so much. He’s arrogant, unfathomable, and too sour by half. And he’s deeply intelligent, thoughtful, and too handsome for his own good. Or mine.
“You want my opinion?”
I smile weakly at Lou, but it makes her grimace.
“Don’t with that. Don’t smile if you don’t want to. You think I don’t know why you do that? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman trying to get hers?” Lou throws up her hands. “A black woman trying to get hers when every damn thing we do is judged?”
The smile slips off my face, and my shoulders relax. Am I that transparent? But what Lou said pricks at me. She’s not wrong. But I just don’t know if I have the brash confidence that she does. As far as I know, she doesn’t have darkness in her family that she’s trying every day to fight off.
Lou drops a hand on my shoulder. “Feel better?” When I nod, she flashes me a smile—a real one. “Look, you think he’s bad for you, but there’s only one way to find out. I’ve seen you two together, and I think you need to chase this … this possibility, and see where it goes.”
Lou presses my phone into my hands. “Plus, I want to see Good Girl Nara give in to your naughty side for once.”
I glance at her once, my cheeks going hot, then dial Ben’s number.
CHAPTER NINE
Nara
A wonderfully cool breeze had swirled through campus earlier in the day, so I dig at the back of my closet for warmer clothes. Some girls—especially some of my sorority sisters—would scoff at wearing jeans on a first date, but Ben sees me in tiny skirts all the time. Jeans will be a nice change.
Lou quirks an eyebrow as I turn side to side.
“It doesn’t really scream ‘first date,’” she offers. Lou is wearing a body-skimming gray dress with geometric cut-outs at the shoulders and back. She is the queen of rocking killer looks for first dates. “But, I guess it’ll be hot when he peels those jeans off you.”
“Lou!” But the image of Ben’s hands on my ass, on my legs …. Something curls up tight deep inside me, something begging to be released. “We’re just getting dinner.”
“Uh-huh. Be bad for once, Nara. It can be so much fun.”
I smooth hands down my butter yellow silk blouse and the thighs of my dark skinnies. With some dark gray suede booties and a dove gray jacket, I’m happy with the look. I slick on some deep berry lipstick and touch my hair one last time. I’d been tempted to wear it natural, but it’s been years since I’ve worn it anything other than straight and sleek.
My eyes are on my reflection in the mirror, but my mind is on Lou’s words. Be bad. If the number of crazy hot dreams I’ve had about Ben the last few nights are any indication, my Inner Nara definitely wants me to do very bad things with Ben. I’m just not sure I can go through with all the fantasies running through my head.
“Nara!” A girl’s voice yells from the bottom of the staircase. “Ben’s here!” I share a final look with Lou, then head out to meet Ben.
The wide staircase turns a corner, and I find myself staring not just at Haley—the girl who called me—but Jess too. Haley laughs nervously, then skitters away, leaving me facing Jess. I look past her, beyond the large, couch-filled common room toward the foyer where I can just spot Ben waiting for me. Honestly, I don’t have anything more to say to Jess. Do I feel bad for calling her a bitch in practice? Yeah, I do. But she’s swiped at me for three years now, and I just don’t want to deal with her anymore.
“You must really want this basket toss,” Jess says, her eyes heavily lidded. “It’s kind of desperate, honestly.”
I let my gaze rest on Jess for a long moment, then step past her. “Not everything is about you, Jess.”
She snorts with incredulity. “So you don’t want a chance to show me up in front of Coach? Yeah, right.”
I just want to leave Jess behind and go to Ben, but I stop. “I do want that stunt, Jess. I think I’d be better at it than you. But if you want to go back on your bet, I’m not going to stop you. After all, I think I proved my point by getting this date with Ben anyway.”
Jess’ green eyes go wide and her lips compress, but I leave her behind, seething. Jess has dogged my steps since the moment I made it onto the squad. And it only got worse after I rushed Kappa my freshman year. I’ve never known what she has against me, but she reminds me a lot of Yaya before she cracked: she always has to have an enemy. Right now, though, I don’t really care. In the foyer, Ben eyes Jess for a second before his gaze snaps back to me.
“That woman hates me,” he says quietly as I stop before him.
A smile spreads across my lips. “She hates everybody. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Ben offers his arm, and I take it without a backward glance at Jess.
***
It feels so natural, my hand resting against his arm, our bodies close together. Overhead, the brilliant yellows and reds of turning leaves shiver against the oaks and aspens. I smile up at the twilight-pink sky and sigh deeply. The air is crisp, but a hint of Ben’s clean-smelling soap whispers under my nose.
He squeezes my arm, pulling my focus back to him.
“You look amazing, Nara.”
I bite back a grin. Ben doesn’t look so bad either. Unlike his teammates, Ben never dresses down. Even his workout gear has a whiff of poshness about it. Now, he’s wearing slim-cut gray trousers that make me want to take a master’s course in Ass Appreciation. His navy and white checked shirt is tucked in but not fussy, and he’s wearing a solid green tie. I’ve never dated a guy who wore a tie on a date.
Eyes still ahead, Ben says, “I want to apologize for my behavior the other night.” He clears his throat. “There are things that happened to me, things that are hard for me to talk about, and—”
I’ve wanted this explanation. I deserve it. But right now, what I deserve more is to be treated to a lovely dinner with a devilishly handsome man.
“Ben,” I say, cutting him off. “There’s plenty of time to explain. Are you sorry you left me on that porch?”
“More than anything,” he says with a groan.
I squeeze his arm. “Then let’s leave it at that tonight. Speaking of, where are you taking me? I’ve been going to that little coffee shop to study lately. And that tea you sent me is so perfect.”
One corner of Ben’s mouth lifts as he glances down at me. I’ve never done well with silence; it always makes me afraid something is wrong. But with Ben … his silence seems to be filled with contentment. I take a breath and looked around.
Ben is leading me through campus, down tree-lined paths and past sandstone buildings with their windows glowing yellow. It’s wonderfully quiet, and the hint of chill makes me cuddle in to Ben’s strong arm. He nods at one of the buildings and then leads me up the steps. It’s the international building, a beautiful structure with a soaring bell tower. I’ve never attended a class here, but I know it’s where a lot of language classes are held and international studies majors congregate.
“Is this our date? Going to class?”
“Just wait,” Ben promises.
He pulls the door open for me and ushers me through. The building is silent, and my heeled booties click on the tile floors. Overhead, colorful flags hang from the tall ceilings representing every nationality of student who’s attended MSU in its nearly hundred-and-fifty-year history. Ben nods down the hushed corridor and leads me deeper into the beautiful old building.
“My first week here, I was wandering the building after meeting with an advisor,” Ben says as we walk. He stops at a nondescript door and tugs it open. Inside, dimly lit, narrow stairs climb straight up. He takes my hand, pulls out a little flashlight, and starts up the stairs. “I found this place, and it’s become something of my secret. There’s something up here I think you’d like to see.”
The stairs climb up at least three stories, tight turns leading to a never-ending progression of landings. Suddenly, the stairs open into the middle of a large, square room. It’s circled in narrow, rectangular windows that bathe the space in the last glow of the setting sun. And everywhere else, stacked on tall shelves between each window, are books. My fingers brush against the spines on the shelf nearest me. They’re leather and cloth, worn with time and cracked down their bindings. I breathe in deep, and the warm, woody smell of them swirls around me.
Ben slides a long finger down the spine of one big, leather book. I can feel him behind me, his body seeping warmth into my back. “I think the books were stored up here when the building’s reading room was redone and just never got reshelved.” His voice is quiet, like this is a library—if a little-used one.
“Where are we?” My eyes are still on the shelf, trying to make out the faded titles.
With soft fingers, Ben tilts my chin up. The place where he touches me blazes suddenly, a spreading warmth that I feel all the way down to my core. Such a small point of contact, but I feel like I’m suddenly lit from within. All those secret fantasies come pouring out of my mind and suffuse my body. The things I want to do with him, the things my body desires.
