Page 30 of Sweet Girl
We are interrupted by this surreal conversation when my phone chimes. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I pull it out of my shorts pocket and check the display. Margarita lets out a sigh of frustration. I blow out a sigh of relief.
I pull back, her proximity almost cloistering, and give her a little wave. “I gotta take this. I’ll see you next semester.”
Pivoting on my Nike-clad heels, I exit into the hallway as fast as I can before I stop and lean against the brick wall of the concourse. My heart is hammering and my cheeks are hot, red and blotchy, I’m sure. I have a tendency to flush easily when I’m embarrassed. Just a trait that I was born with and that brings a lot of attention to my face when I’m in front of reporters during press conferences.
I open my hand and look down at the display. It’s Kylah. I feel guilty for even thinking this, but I consider not answering it. Getting involved with her, no matter how much I want to, will only prove difficult. Not that she’s difficult. She’s great. It’s just the damn timing and circumstances that bum me out.
The picture I took of her the night we went to the movie is the contact photo. We’d been goofing around after we’d eaten dinner and before we went back to Cade’s and she was laughing hysterically over something we were talking about. I just couldn’t help myself. I opened up my camera app and snapped a picture. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes are squinty because her smile is wide-open and takes up most of her face. And her chin is pulled up, head back. She looks gorgeous. Happy. Irresistible.
So how can I not answer her call?
“Hey, Ky. What’s up?”
I hear her form a soft ‘O’, like she’s surprised I answered the phone.
“Oh my gosh,” she stammers. “Hi, Van. I didn’t expect you to answer. I thought you’d still be in class. I was just going to leave a message. But now I don’t have to.” She’s rambling nervously and it’s pretty cute.
“Where are you?”
“I just got home.”
“Really?” I ask. This is different than what she originally mentioned. “I thought you weren’t expected back until tomorrow? Isn’t that when your flight was scheduled?”
After our hot and sexy conversation the other night, things felt a little awkward. Or maybe it was just me for feeling like I steered us into uncomfortable territory. So I’d made up an excuse the next day that I had been really drunk that night and I apologized for my participation in that discussion. I told her I was sorry for bringing the blowjob thing up and I’d hoped she could forgive me and we could still be friends.
Her reaction was a little weird. It was like she was angry with me. She didn’t come right out and say it, but things seemed a little stilted after that.
We moved on to other topics, though. One being her expected return to Phoenix. She said her parents booked her flight for Wednesday afternoon and her last final was on Tuesday. Same as mine. And today is Tuesday.
“Yeah, I was supposed to fly in tomorrow. But I finished early and booked it to the airport and flew standby. So here I am!”
“That’s so awesome.”
Part of me is disappointed when she says she’s at home and not at Cades, because then I can’t go over to see her. On the other hand, it saves me from seeing her. I’m afraid of being around her too much. Afraid of what might happen. Of what I might do. I want her so bad. And I’m pretty sure she wants the same thing, but is too shy to admit it.
If this isn’t the biggest conundrum ever, I don’t know what is.
“Well, I’m at home for now. My mom is making us dinner tonight. She said she has an announcement and was waiting for all of us to be home together to tell us. I’m hoping it’s about our Christmas gift. Last year we went on a four-day cruise and it was amazing! My mom loves cruises. We never went as a family before because my dad hated them.”
“Huh. Cool. How are things going with your dad? Are you going to see him much while you’re home?”
I walk out the building and head toward my dorm. I’m one of the only senior ball players that still lives in the dorms, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love my privacy. Because of my status, I get a private dorm suite. It’s small, but I have a small couch in my room, along with a bed and desk, and my own bathroom. It’s not a palace, but it definitely allows me the luxury of being by myself when I need the quiet. It was also a big plus when Lyndsay would...
Shit. My brain needs to eliminate her from my thought patterns. She’s my ex. We’re over. Done with. Kaput.
It’s not like I’m missing her or anything like that. It’s been over a month since we broke up and there’s no chance we’d ever get back together because of the charming circumstances involved in our split.
That brings me back into our conversation about Kylah’s dad. She’d told me that her mom and he divorced a few years back and she’s still reeling from the split. Said it’s really difficult trying to spend equal time with each of them – especially now that she’s away at school. Apparently Kylah’s the only one of the kids that actually like her dad. I know for a fact Cade’s relationship with him was really rocky for a while.
“Well, depending on how things pan out, I’ll spend this week with my mom and we’ll be there for Christmas Eve and day, then the following week with my dad. I’ll be at Cade’s New Year’s Eve, and I don’t have to return to school until January 5th. So I’ll wing it ’til then.”
She says all this with a flare of excitement. She seems happy and animated now that she’s home, and it only increases my desire to see her. To charge my batteries with the power of her positivity.
My parents already know to expect me at home only until Saturday, when I’ll return to school. We have practice, but no games during the week between holidays. It’ll be great to have some downtime for once. Although my parents know that Lyndsay and I broke up over Thanksgiving, it does create a little weirdness with our families. Her parents and mine attend the same church and spend a lot of time together in various social circles. Thankfully, we don’t spend Christmas with them.
“So how about you? You mentioned you’d be home with your family for a few days in Tucson, right? And then what?”
Walking up to my third floor dorm room, I unlock the door and throw my bag down on my bed. Before I can think better of it, and because I can’t think of anymore more than I want to do, I invite her over.
