Ross scoots down the chairs until he’s sitting next to me. “Dude, you need to chill out.” He’s not usually one to meddle, but we’ve been hanging out more since that night at the bar. He’s pretty cool to hang out with. This is one of those times he needs to mind his own damn business.
“No, I need to be out on the court.” I cross my arms over my chest like a petulant child. Is it bratty? Maybe, but I don’t care. Not only have I not been able to get ahold of Serena, but Hazel keeps telling me she needs time. What does that even mean? How much time does one person need to decide if they are going to take a simple phone call?
“Look Bentley,” Ross says as we watch our teammates pass the ball down the court and go in for a layup. “Your heart is broken, I get that, but you need to stop bringing that shit out onto the court. That is why you’re sitting here and aren’t out there right now. You’re playing like shit and don’t deny it because you know it’s true.”
If I wasn’t worried he could kick my ass, I’d punch him right now. Not because he deserves it but because he’s right and I don’t want to admit it. Serena walking out on me is fucking with my head in the worse way possible. “I don’t know what to do. She’s not answering my calls or my texts. How am I supposed to clear shit up with her if she won’t talk to me?” During the game probably isn’t the best time to talk about this, but there’s only so much I can take from Mom and Gabby. A guy’s perspective is what I need. I mean, it’s not likely that I’ll be put back in the game. At least, not until I get my head out of my ass and play like I usually do.
“What about contacting her friend?”
Another point by the Rattlers, and acid burns in my gut that I’m not out there. “She’s a dead end.”
He drums his fingers against his knee and doesn’t take his eyes off the court. “Well, the only option you have is to talk to her in person.”
“How am I supposed to do that if she’s in another state?”
“You fly your broody ass up there and talk to her like a man.” He shakes his head, annoyed. “If you want her bad enough, you go after her. There’s no two ways about it.”
That’s three people who have told me the same thing. I’m almost certain if I asked Jordan for his advice, he’d tell me the same thing. Even though she won’t answer my calls, I do want to be with her. I want that more than anything. Well, maybe besides my basketball career because I’ve busted my ass for it, but it’s only complete if she’s by my side. She makes me a better person.
“You might be onto something.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. Wondering exactly how I will pull this off.
“So, when are you going?” I can see him out of the corner of my eye and he’s sporting a shit-eating grin.
“I have to check her schedule and see when she’s off.” I think her next day off is during a game day, but that might work in my favor. I’ll tell Coach I have family business I need to attend to and it’ll prove to her she’s the most important thing to me. If anything, maybe it’ll help to smooth some things over with her.
“You better make it worth it.”
I watch my team win by two points without my help. And I know deep in my gut that I won’t be able to play my best until I have the answers I need to move forward.
Twenty-Eight
Serena
“Have you talked to him?” Hazel stopped by to make sure I’m not wallowing in self-pity. She’s too late, though. I’ve been wallowing for the past two weeks.
“No,” I mutter and pull my blanket up to my shoulders. “Why should I?”
“Because you’re obviously still upset over it. You haven’t been to work since that night. I mean, I know you have a ton of vacation time, but this,” she waves her hands around the coffee table. So, what if there are takeout dishes littering it. Most of those are new-ish. “This is ridiculous, Serena.”
Why is she being so harsh? My heart was literally thrown into a blender and pureed. This is my process. It’s how I grieve the loss of what I thought I had. “I’ll throw them away later. I don’t feel like getting up right now.”
“No,” she stomps over to me and yanks the blanket off. “You are going to put them away now.” She takes hold of my arm and pulls me off the couch. “Then you’re going to shower because you smell horrible.”
“Gee, thanks for the hygiene commentary.” I love Hazel dearly, but today she’s working on my nerves. “But you don’t get it. I thought we would be something more. Something that lasted. Except he’s just like every other man…there until someone prettier comes along.”
She sighs and begins picking up the old boxes. “You don’t know that’s what happened. You didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself.”
What the hell? Did she just defend him? That’s not how this works. She’s supposed to be the one who damns him with me, not the one who takes up for him and asks me to be reasonable. I’ve gone through this before with Braxton. That one didn’t hit me nearly as hard as Bentley. I thought we were so much more. “So, I’m the one in the wrong? He had some chick hanging all over him. He didn’t push her off. Not even when he saw me.” My voice rises at the end and I’m sure my neighbors think I’m losing my mind.
Hazel throws away the stack of Styrofoam she has and whirls on me. “Number one, I never said he did nothing wrong. Not even when you came and stayed with me after you came back. Number two, just answer one of his phone calls. He’s worried about you and you both need to get out of this limbo. Either get the closure you need or write him off.”
“Wait, you’ve talked to him?” The betrayal that hits me in the stomach is not something I was expecting. She’s not supposed to be talking to him. That’s like best friend code or something.
“I haven’t physically talked to him, so calm down.” She pushes me toward the bathroom, trying to force me into the shower. “He texted me asking how you were, and I told him to give you time. I told you I’d be here for you no matter what. But, Rena, you’ve got to do something. Let him know how you’re feeling or where you want to go from here because as shitty as the situation is, you both need to move on.”
At least she didn’t give him much information. Well, none really. I could demand to see her phone to make sure she’s not lying to me, but she wouldn’t have even brought it up if she was going to. I trust her more than I trust anyone else in the world, even if she is trying to make me act like an adult. I’d much rather stay in my jammies, curled up on the couch. “Fine,” I pout. “I’ll consider talking to him. But I’ll take a shower first because you’re right, I smell horrible.”
She’s sitting on my couch when I get out of the shower and looking at what my TV is paused on. “You’re still watching his games?”
