If I spent enough time around him, I’d do to him what I did to my dad, and I’d never forgive myself for it.
As I left his apartment, chest tight and already regretting my decision, I wondered: was that really my gut feeling?
Chapter Fourteen
RIVER
“You have got to stop sulking.”
I struck my head against the wall, overwhelmed by despair. “I can’t.”
Carson sighed. “It’s been two weeks, man. You need to focus on the game.”
He had been trying to get me pumped all day about our first true game of the season. It was starting in less than two hours, and instead of feeling excitement like everyone else around me, I was wallowing in self-pity.
I hadn’t been my normal upbeat and cheery self in a while—Carson would argue that I was neither of those things ever, but that was beside the point. I was lacking my usual motivation and spunk, and it wasn’t just taking a toll on me, but also those around me.
“Mama J is in the crowd, remember?” He slapped my shoulder encouragingly. “She’s made it this time, so don’t worry so much about Alex.”
Even knowing my mom was in the crowd did not brighten my mood, and that was saying something. I had filled in Carson on some of the situation with my ex-best friend and I. Not everything—just the part about me being too cowardly to tell him the truth and him cutting me off for it. He found it ridiculous that I wouldn’t tell him for the sake of our relationship, but he didn’t get it. No one did.
My sour mood started the second I walked out of Alex’s apartment. I really let myself leave him all because I was too afraid to tell the truth. He was right at my fingertips, and I let him slip away.Again.
Was this how I made him feel when I ghosted him as a kid?
A buff arm wrapped around Carson’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Our teammate, Vernell, wore a wide, toothy grin, his excitement for the first game of the season clear. When he caught wind of my brooding, it faded.
My teammate raised a critical eyebrow. “River, where is your enthusiasm? You should be the most hyped of all of us.”
“I’m pumped,” I said lamely.
“Damn, did a girl break up with you or something?”
“Something like that,” Carson mumbled.
“Let me tell you something, man. A girl is not more important than how you play on this court today,” Vernell spoke as if it were a fact. “Turn those powerful feelings into skill on the court, yeah?”
Unbeknownst to my teammate, Alex was not a girl, and he was most certainly more important than the first game of the season.
Those were the last words of encouragement he gave to me before he rejoined the rest of our team in their pregame celebration. I tugged on the hem of my jersey, peering down at the big number nine displayed across my chest. The number that represented me and everything I stood for.
The way I was feeling, I wanted to rip the jersey off and never pick it up again.
“Maybe Alex will show, despite everything,” Carson said hopefully, but we both knew that was wishful thinking. After that, he joined the rest of the team, bonding in the locker room. I forced myself to join him, because anything was better than wallowing in self pity.
The rest of the time passed in a blur, and the game was finally beginning. We were going up against a team from Tennessee, and according to everyone, we had this win in the bag. Considering how well we did in the scrimmage, I wasn’t too worried.
Coach gave us his typical intimidating speech, filled with the usual threats heard from coaches before the season’s initial game. He directed his comments to the group, yet his intense stare felt personal, as though he could read my thoughts. Coach’s intuition, I guessed. Not only was he saying, “Wipe the floor with them like I know you can,” he was also warning, “Don’t fuck this up for us.”
As the game was starting, I ran onto the court with the starting lineup, though my attention was elsewhere. My eyes frantically scanned the bleachers for the third time that evening as I let my feet guide me to my position. Yes, a third time. I had been looking for Alex since the stadium opened to the public and had no luck.
The lack of brown hair and freckles in the audience darkened my mood. I hadn’t spoken to him in over a week, and he had every right to tell me to fuck off, yet I still believed he would show because Alex always showed.
Not this time.
Lost in thought about the boy who was always on my mind, I didn’t hear the whistle or see the ball drop.
I could feel the death stares from my coach and teammates, but I shrugged them off and zoned in on the opponent before me. He loomed above me, his wide shoulders and arms spread, with a menacing scowl, as if he was ready to devour me. Every pivot I made, he mimicked it. When I thought I’d got rid of him, he appeared. The fucker was my shadow.
