Page 15 of Sweet Little Lies
Chapter 5
Lance
“Hey, bro. Waddup? How’s it going?”
My friend, Cade, reaches for my hand as we go through our typical man-shake that we started our first year of college. God, that seems like a lifetime ago.
Cade called me yesterday to see if I wanted to get in some one on one time on the court at the campus athletic center. I quickly agreed since today is Saturday and I don’t have any classes; the timing was perfect.
“Yo, Griff. How’s the shackles treating ya?” I laugh and shove his shoulder with mine, giving him a hard time about his newly engaged status.
It’s crazy to think my two best friends are now settled down with the women they want to spend the rest of their lives with. I’m happy for them, but it freaks me out a little. We’re all still so young, in my humble opinion, and there’s still so much partying to be done.
I lace up my shoes as Cade does some stretching on the side of the half court we reserved in the large arena gym. The perks of being basketball players for the school is free gym time whenever we want it. And since it’s the summer quarter, there isn’t much happening this time of year.
A few students saw us in the locker room on the way out and stopped to chat for a bit, asking us questions about playing and the past championships we’d played in. Word will likely get out soon enough that we’re both in here today and a crowd will form. It always happens. Especially when Cade’s around. He was the big man on campus. I’ve always just been the dopey sidekick to the big stars.
Which my dad never fails to remind me of.
Cade laughs. “Shit, man. My life is fucking perfect. I can’t believe how lucky I am. So, shackles or not, life is good. And hey, how about you? Last I recall, you went home with Mica the night of our engagement party. What’s up with that? You were fucking adamant that she was the only one who could put you to bed. Man, you were blitzed.”
Cade laughs, but I know there’s more than joking fun in his comment. He and Ainsley are protective of Mica and knowing who I am, I can understand why. They don’t want me to mess around with her or hurt her. I get it.
She’s the perfectly unblemished glass rose and I’m an unpolished and marred concrete block. I’d crush her with the weight of me just because of who I am. Of how I am. And all the tarnished baggage that exists in my dark soul.
Something inside me twists and I feel this ire grow in my belly. Even though he’s not coming right out and saying it like my dad would, he’s suggesting I’m not good enough for Mica. So my tone is defensive when I speak, causing Cade to stare at me wide-eyed as I stand.
“I’m not a fucking rapist, man. I didn’t take advantage of her that night, if that’s what you think.”
He waves his hands dismissively. “Whoa, bruh. I didn’t say that. I would never think that, dude. Calm down. I just know that you were really wasted that night and when you’re drunk, you get a little-”
“A little what?” Okay, I’m totally being a dickhead right now, but I can’t help it.
“I don’t know, just uncooperative.Impulsive[SH1].Defiant.”
He swipes the ball from my hands, pivoting and dribbling it a few steps before making a layup.
I stand there for a moment and watch him, wondering what he truly thinks of me. And how I’m perceived by others. But then I shake it off, because I don’t give a fuck.
I stopped giving a fuck when my younger brother, Landon died, when my mother died, and when my father started blaming all his problems on me.
Finally, I step into motion, pushing my legs forward and jumping up to block his next shot. It hits the rim and I rebound it, dribbling back to the center line.
“That’s not true,” I complain. “I’ve been told I’m a funny-ass drunk. I make the girls laugh and then they drop their panties for me. Women like men who are funny.”
“Yeah, man. You’re funny, all right. Funny looking,” he retorts, stealing the ball from my hands again and going up for a dunk.
“Fuck that noise. I’m the new hot stud on campus, bruh. You’re just an old, retired ball player who has to wear around a ball-and-chain and wears a lab coat with a pocket protector at work.”
I steal the ball back from him and this is how it goes between us for the next twenty minutes; each of us throwing out well-played and well-timed cuts about each other. It’s who we are and how we do things. This is how we’ve always been.
Friends, guys, basketball players. The slams and smack talking are all part of the game we love to play. And there’s never any hard feelings, because the truths – while there – are covered up with carefully crafted put-downs and ribs that are meant to be funny, not hurtful.
When we’re finally breathing hard and need to take a break, we walk back over to the sidelines and grab our water bottles and towels. Sweat pours from my head down my face and into my eyes. I taste the saltiness on my lips and smile. I’ve missed this easy comradery that I have with Cade. And for a moment, I’m nostalgic over the last four years and miss my other friends – Carver and Van.
“You heard from Carver recently?”
Carver is one of the only guys from our class that went pro. He’s now up in Seattle playing for the Puget Sound Pilots – the year’s rookie sensation – and he’s now back together with his long-time love, Logan. He’s promised us courtside seats when his team is down in Phoenix playing the Suns the next time they play. It will be different watching from the audience instead of being in the action with my buddy – but I’m so fucking happy he’s living his dream.
