Page 73 of Sweet Girl
Chapter Twenty-four
Van
My college basketball career is nearing the end. The second week of each February marks the countdown to the last full month of regular play before things get interesting. It’s the calm before the storm, when all eyes were focused on what is ahead of us, in hopes that we’d wind up in the championship tournament.
Even those who aren’t college basketball fans have heard about March Madness. It’s the culmination of a hard work and sacrifice when a total of sixty-eight teams head into the post season NCAA tournament, also known as the Big Dance. Some teams get there by their conference championships and wins, and others are selected on the aptly named Selection Sunday when we are slotted into seeds and brackets. It’s every gambler’s dream - March Madness is the Holy Grail for betting types.
I’m both excited and a bit mournful over the upcoming month of play. I want to take it all in, remembering every aspect of each game played, locking it away as memories for my future life. It’s difficult to imagine when play is finally done, I’ll no longer be a basketball player. My final game will definitely be bittersweet.
Some of the guys on the team will be entering the draft come June. Two for certain are Carver Edwards and the other center on the team, Christian Lancaster. They both decided to remain in school and graduate before announcing their interest. A lot of players in the league dropout somewhere between their freshman and sophomore years, hoping to capitalize on their youthful physicality, agility, and vitality to make it in the big leagues. For me, that was never in my field of vision.
What has been in my future plans is making my parents and Dougie proud of who I am and what I could become. I’m not going to make a name for myself in finance, but I think someday I could be a good leader and maybe CFO. Every business needs one of those. Coach Welby has always told me to “step up and use my natural born leadership skills”. I’m not an in-your-face leader like Carver, who is gregarious and overly-confident. I’m more of the laid back kind of guys who quietly assert my opinions and ideas without blasting it in your face.
Like tonight’s game, for example. We were down by twelve points going into the second half. Carver went out with an injury to his calf, so our other point guard, Kenyon Lyons, a sophomore from Missouri, stepped in. He’s a good kid, but a little like a skittish bunny. So during one of the timeouts, I slapped him on the shoulder, grabbing the scruff behind his head, and gave him a little pep talk.
“Look, bruh. You’re doing great. No one expects you to be Carver. Be yourself. Trust your instincts. You got this, dude.”
After that, the stars started to align and we began making baskets, finding the open holes and taking the shots that got us the lead. I ended up making two three-pointers from the perimeter, and a couple rebounds while under the basket. We won the game by one point.
Everyone went out to celebrate afterward, but I left early so I could get home for my Skype date with Kylah. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I had shipped her a care package with a bunch of stuff I knew she would like.
Included in the package was a pair of polka dot panties I found at Victoria’s Secret. I might not be able to see her wear them this weekend, but I’d definitely get a chance the next time we were together. Or maybe in our Skype session tonight I’d ask her to try them on for me.
Fuck, my cock is hard just thinking about the possibility of her laying out on her bed dressed only in her panties. I wonder if I could convince my shy little sex kitten to do that for me?
I can’t wait to get her online to see her. I’ve missed her so much I can barely stand it any longer. I just want to hold her in my arms. Kiss her dewy lips until they turn swollen and puffy from my attention. Touch her body in all the places I know will make her squirm with excitement.
I open the door to my dorm room and the first thing I notice is that my desk light is on. I don’t recall leaving it on. Weird. And then I catch a long-forgotten, yet very familiar, scent.
My eyes snap to the bed, where laid out nearly naked, in only a lacy bra and panties, is not Kylah...but my ex.
“Lyndsay.”
Her name echoes off the walls of my small room, as I instinctively take a step back, planting my butt against the door. My hand firmly on the handle, as if my mind already knows I’ll need a quick escape.
My immediate thought is that I need her to leave. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing here – practically naked in my bed – but she is an uninvited and unwanted guest. And that’s a liberal term since she’s not even a guest. That would imply that I’m the host of this little party, and that I certainly am not.
My eyes can’t help but peruse her body. I’ve seen her in my bed a hundred times before. I know the feel of her body. The taste of her skin. The scent of her...
Fuck.
My tone is harsh and lacks any form of welcome. “What the hell are you doing here, Lynds?”
Lyndsay’s eyes narrow on me, in an appraising glance, her penetrating stare sweeps over me as she makes her way seductively toward me on her hands and knees. Her lips curl into a licentious smile.
“Do you know what today is?” she asks, now kneeling at the edge of my bed, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. It’s supposed to be seductive, but it makes me want to throttle her.
“No, and I don’t care. I want you to leave.”
She moves with the speed of a gazelle, jumping off the bed and landing softly with a thud within inches of me. I try to back up, but I’m as far against the door as I can possibly go. I’m trapped. So I do the only thing I can do, I place my hands on her bare shoulders to hold her at bay.
“Van,” she coos, tilting her head, chin down so her lips meet the top of my hand, which she kisses. “You don’t remember? This is a special night for us. It’s the anniversary of the first time we ever had sex. On our camping trip up at Coal Springs. God, it was such a great night.”
My heart remembers. Damn it. She doesn’t play fair. Of course, it was a great night. She was my first. We fumbled and stumbled together that first time, trying to figure out how to put a condom on and where and how to fit my dick inside her. It’s almost comical to think back on it now.
But I don’t want to think about it. It’s not laughing matter. There’s no room for history between us. It’s done. Over. She fucking cheated on me, got knocked up by another guy and dumped me. And now I’m in love with another girl. I’ve moved on and so has she.
So why is she even here?
