Page 44 of Sweet Little Lies
While that will break my heart, I don’t expect anything else from him. He’s not beholden to me, plus, I can’t get involved in a relationship with him because I don’t want to choose a side.
Over the last few weeks, Lance has shown me a completely different side of himself when we’re alone together. He doesn’t have to put on an act like I’ve witnessed him do around other people. It’s like he wears a mask when with others. A false identity that displays this outer image of a goofy jokester, when deep inside he’s really a serious and sweet guy.
I’ve never asked him about it because I don’t want to upset him or rock the boat. Right now, we’ve been floating along on this placid and calm water, bobbing together in perfect happiness. I fear if I push something, all that we are will be pummeled by a crashing wave.
“Come on, Georgie,” he persists, giving me a pouty-lip whine. “I want you to be there with me tonight. I want to introduce you to my boys.”
I want to say no, but the pleading tone of his voice tells me he really does want me there. For what, I don’t know. But I don’t have the heart to reject him or turn him down. And maybe this will be good for us. Maybe it means we are boyfriend/girlfriend and he wants to introduce me to his neighborhood boys.
I capitulate and give in. “Fine, I’ll go. You probably just want a DD so you don’t have to worry about getting home.”
His grin is mischievous and wolfish. He leans forward and nuzzles my neck with his nose and mouth, placing kisses there that he knows drive me crazy.
“You know that’s not why. I want you there so I can haul you off in some deep, dark corner and have my way with you. So you can wear that hot little skirt you wore to the engagement party and I can hike it up and finger fuck your pussy against the wall. So I can make you come apart on me, with my arms the only thing keeping you from falling. And then I’ll fuck you and make you come again when my cock’s inside you.”
My eyes are closed tight and I know I’m not breathing. He’s stolen my breath with his incredibly kinky and very dirty words. I practically tremble from the implications of his descriptive fantasy and I know I want it, too. When I finally do take a breath, it’s in short pants and my legs clench together in anticipation of what he described.
And then I hear laughter coming from behind me. “Get a room, you two.”
Lance sighs but doesn’t move, even though I jerk away from him as if we’ve been caught by the naughty police. When I twist around, I see Tra’Von Matthews sauntering up behind us. He’s chomping on an apple and wearing a grin from ear-to-ear.
He fist bumps Lance and nods his head to me. We’ve never been formally introduced, but of course I know who he is. He’s just transferred from a school in Kentucky and will be the new starting sophomore point guard.
“Yo, dog. Wassup?” Lance asks casually as if nothing is amiss and he hasn’t just been getting all nasty with me. He slowly inches back into his seat so we have a slight modicum of decorum. A huge blush breaks out across my face as I realize how we must’ve looked to everyone around us as we made out like that in public.
I scoot my chair away, but Lance stops me with his hand. Then he yanks me from my seat and into his lap, his strong arms rounding my belly and holding me tight. Obviously, it’s an act of male territorialism and a caveman way of stating, ‘mine’, I have to admit I kind of like it. It’s possessive, yes, but I like the PDA and the fact that he’s making a statement about who we are to each other.
Tra’Von nods and looks down at us, cocking his head. “Seems like you’re having a good summer, bro. Who we got here?”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or just about me, but Lance pipes up.
“This is my girl, Micaela.”
I notice he introduced me using my full name and not Mica. I want to giggle, but instead I hold out my hand for him to shake it, but Tra’Von brings it to his lips, instead. Like he’s some courtly gentleman and I’m a lady in waiting. It’s kind of cute.
“Hello, beautiful Micaela,” he drawls, a faint southern accent in his voice. “It’s a pleasure. And when you get tired of this guy, why don’t you give me a call. Cause those rumors you hear from the ladies are true about me.”
He winks and Lance bats his hand away as I wonder what rumors he’s talking about. I haven’t heard any.
“Oh, you mean about your pencil dick?” Lance lobs over in jest. “Yeah, I’ve heard those too.”
“Fuck, bro. You’re just jealous talking shit you know nothing about. But the ladies know, don’t they?”
I look between the two of them and finally understand what they’re talking about and that they’re just messing with each other. Talking smack talk. But I blush at how crass they are and how they talk about their dicks that way. Must be a jock thing.
And then the conversation veers to the fall season and rivalries and various other basketball references that I kind of tune out because it’s not my thing. But soon there are spectators gathered around us, and a group of girls that begin swarming. I’m starting to feel a little uncomfortable and out of place, so I wiggle off Lance’s lap and begin gathering up my books.
As a lull takes over and Tra’Von is distracted by a gorgeous brunette who grabs his attention, Lance leans over to me.
“Sorry about this,” he nods, his hand gesturing to the intrusion. “So tonight? Can I pick you up at nine?”
Against my better judgment, I say yes. He smiles and kisses me goodbye on the lips as I make my way through the little crowd that’s gathered.
But as I clear the edge of the circle, I hear a female voice say, “Look at that ‘spic slut. Britton must be slumming it this summer.”
Tears cut at my eyes and I blink them away as I manage to push my way to the exit, sobs stuck in my lungs. When I push open the door and make my way outside, I’m blinded by the bright sun, the heat sizzling my skin like acid.
Or maybe that’s just the pain of those hateful words. Uncensored hatred from someone who doesn’t know a thing about me and only sees the color of my skin and has decided to unfairly judge me because of it.
Which is exactly why I fear attending this party tonight. It’s like Lance is blind to any of that, which he should be, but it doesn’t help me when I know what people see and think when they see us together. All they see is a woman of color who’s with a white college athlete and they accuse me of gold-digging because of who he is.
And that’s another reason why I need to break things off with Lance sooner rather than later. Because the longer I wait and the deeper I get with him, the worse it will hurt.
Even worse than the cuts the shiv from that girl’s slew of racist remarks caused my heart to bleed.
