Sweet Little Lies Page 8

  My skills on the court have improved since I began playing under Coach Lawson this past year in middle school. He helped me form my hook shot, my pull up jumper and my turn-around jumper, which I do with a fake pump, pivot and jump. The ball arcs over Curtis’s extended arms and hits the net.

  “Yes! Suck it, C,” I preen, strutting past my buddy with an arrogant swagger.

  Landon and Russ, the other guy playing in our threesome, give me a high fives.

  “Nice shot, Britton.”

  I nod my chin and get into position to guard my friend Jimmy, who has the ball and is working to give an inbound pass. However, just before he has a chance, his mother calls him from down the street.

  “James Cameron Willson, you need to get your butt home right this minute. It’s dinner time!”

  We all give a collective groan.

  “Dammit,” Russ complains. “Just when things were getting good.”

  Jimmy grumbles loudly and slaps the ball onto the ground, with a “sorry guys” apology as he leaves. The ball bounces high above our heads and Landon is quick to rush for it, but I yank it out of his hands.

  “Laaaance…you’re a douchewad.”

  That’s a pretty good insult coming from my little brother, but I laugh at him as I hold my hand against his forehead as he scrambles to try to get at the ball from my hand.

  Russ laughs from behind us. “I gotta go, too, guys. I’ll check ya later.”

  The rest of the guys pack up and leave but Landon and I decide to play a little longer. He’s two and half years younger than me and about four inches shorter. My mom said I sprouted this spring and I’m constantly growing out of my clothes while my brother is a midget compared to my lanky almost thirteen-year-old body.

  Although he annoys the shit out of me just like any younger brother might, I know he looks up to me and always wants to do what I’m doing. So, giving him some of my time isn’t the end of the world. I know it makes him happy, and he’s a good kid, even though my dad is unnecessarily cruel to him.

  We play for about fifteen minutes until I see Carrie and Dana walking by wearing their tiny denim shorts and tank tops. I make a few more shots and strut around. Because I know they’re watching, I put on a show with my studly act, making shots left and right while Landon complains and whines, running around trying to get the ball from me.

  I finally give into the desire to talk to them and walk over to where Carrie and Dana sit.

  Landon is not happy with this development and I still have the ball in my hands.

  “Hey, asswipe! What the hell you doing? We were playing here!” he yells at me, but I don’t pay him any attention.

  Instead, I stop in front of the girls with a sly smirk on my face and they giggle to themselves over my presence.

  “Hey girls. You’re both looking sic today.”

  I hear Landon in the background scoff and gripe about wanting to play. In order to stop his bellyaching so I can have some alone time with Carrie, who I’ve harbored a crush on all year, I turn and throw the ball as far as I can. Landon stares and then grins as we both watch the ball roll off the court, down a small hill and into the street.

  “Go get it, numb nuts,” I call to my brother as I turn my attention back to the girls.

  I don’t see it happen right away. But I see it reflected in the wordless scream that penetrates the air and washes over Carrie’s face. It registers shock and terror and when I realize she’s looking behind me, I turn to find out what the deal is.

  It’s then that I see the truck…and an object flies through the air down the block. At first, I think it’s the basketball. But it’s too big for that and not the right shape.

  I blink several times and then begin running, the sounds of my heartbeats thumping loudly and drowning out all the screams and yells from around me.

  “Landon!” I cry, rushing past the open doors of the truck, as the driver and passenger both jump out, confusion blurring their vision.

  I take off down the hill, the slope of the ground causing me to skid, as I land on my hip and slide the rest of the way down until I hit the road and jump back up to my feet. The lump in the street isn’t moving. But I know it’s him. He’s upside down on his stomach, one arm is outstretched over his head and the other…it’s mangled at his side in an unnatural position.

  “Oh, fuck me,” I hear some voice behind me say. But I don’t even look up.

  My feet propel me forward until they are next to my brother’s sprawled out body. His face is smashed into the ground, his light brown hair now sticky with blood. So much fucking blood.

  “Landon…” I whisper, but I don’t even think it comes out of my mouth.

  Kneeling in my brother’s bodily fluids, I reach underneath him and pull him into my lap.

  And then I hear siren’s and that’s the last thing I remember until the hospital.

  ~~~

  The high-pitched noise that had been sirens in my dream now shakes me awake, as does the distinct odor of burning pizza.

  It takes me a few moments to remember where I am and when it does dawn on me, I jump off the couch and run into the kitchen which is thick with clouds of smoke.

  “Shit.”

  Swinging open the kitchen door and windows, I grab a potholder and yank open the oven, which only serves to flood more smoke into the tiny apartment kitchen. But the smoke alarm finally dies off and my frantic waving of the towel in the air has increased the visibility a little.

  Just my luck. Could this day get any worse?

  My head throbs with a tension headache and I’m now out of beer with no food to feed Mica.

  FML.

  Dropping the blackened round disk into the sink, I flush it with water, turning on the disposal to get rid of the evidence of my failure.

  Fail. That’s what you are. You’re a failure. A screw up. A no-good, fucking bastard.

  The bitter hate-filled insults from my father haunt me as I walk back down the hallway to my bedroom, pulling open my top dresser drawer and locating the bottle of Oxy from the rolled up sock in the back.

  It’s my prescription, one that I got after an injury last year, so it’s legal and all, but I keep it hidden away so I’m not tempted to finish it off. Most days I can fend off those thoughts with workout sessions, basketball training or booze. But right now, after that fucking nightmare and the drama with Mica’s nephew earlier today, I just can’t deal.

  I open up the bottle and shake out two pills in my hands, staring at the white tablets like they hold all the answers to all my problems.

  My fist opens and closes several times as I head back to the kitchen to grab some water. I take my time on this decision. Because fuck all, I know they’ll make me feel good. And I’ll want more. They’ll dull the pain that lives inside me caused by years of my father’s abuse and the emptiness I feel every day of my life from missing my brother.

  For causing his death.

  Throwing the pills into the back of my mouth, I tip the glass of water to my lips and take a long drink. They go down without a problem.

  I close my eyes and wait.

  Wait for the calm that will eventually snake through my veins. Will unbundle the nerves that are jumbled up in knots in my stomach. Will quiet the ever-present bitter words that cut me to the core from my own self-loathing.

  And once that happens, I’ll be back to my old self again.

  I’ll be fun Lance – the one everyone adores and finds so funny and amusing.

  The guy that can make people laugh and who feed on my energy, but holds nothing but darkness inside.

  Chapter 12

  Mica

  “Hey, is everything okay? We heard on the news about Alvie. Oh my God, Micaela. Why didn’t you call me or something? I would’ve been there for you.”

  Ainsley called me just as I was getting ready to head out the door to Lance’s. I’d spent all afternoon at the hospital with my family, as well as talking to the police regarding the incident, and finally had to
leave. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  So, I came home, showered and gathered up my books to bring with me to study at Lance’s. Although, I’m not sure I’m in any frame of mind to study tonight.

  And after that kiss in the hospital parking lot, I’d prefer doing more of that tonight. Much, much more.

  I know Ainsley is worried about me and my family. She’s my best friend and we’re both slogging through our nursing program together. She’s had her own family drama to deal with in life, so I know she’d understand what I’m going through.

  But in all honestly, I just didn’t know what to say. I’m still numb – from the near drowning accident, all the aftermath and then the scene between my mother and Lance. That kiss in the parking lot that made me forget everything – even my surroundings – and turned me into a la puta. A slut.

  At least, that’s the look of disgrace that my mother gave me when she read me the riot act.

  “I’m so sorry, Ainsley. It was just so crazy after everything happened. I’m still in shock.”

  “Oh honey, do you want me to come over tonight? I can be there as soon as my shift is over.”

  When Ainsley and I first met, I had no idea that were so much alike or had such similar situations. You’d give one look at the beautiful face and body of Ainsley Locker and you’d think she had it all going for her. But she has had to work just as hard – if not harder – than me to get through life. She works two jobs, cares for her teen sister, and does all of that without the support of her mentally ill mother.

  “No, mi amiga. You have enough going on. You need to spend time with Cade and Anika,” I persuade. Because it’s the truth. She never has enough alone time with her fiancé or younger sister. “And anyway, I’m heading over to Lance’s for dinner and studying.”

  She pauses. “We saw him on TV being interviewed on the local news station. They’re calling him a hero. He saved Alvaro?”

  My smile, although weary, turns upward at the corner of my lips. “Yes. He is a hero.”

  My Knight in Shining Armor.

  “Wow, that’s incredible. I’d never guess he had it in him to do that.”

  “He was amazing, Ains. He remained so calm during the entire thing. And I’m the one who is supposed to know what to do in times of crisis, but I just cried the whole time. I broke down and was a mess. Thank God he was there with us.”

  So much of the memory of how it all transpired is blocked from the shock I was in today, but I do remember watching Lance’s face as he performed CPR. He was so purposeful and self-assured. Like he’d done it a hundred times and was practiced in the art of saving people. I was in awe and plan to make sure he knows it tonight.

  “Mica, I need to ask…is he…are you two together now? I mean, that last time I saw you both was when you left our engagement party together. Is something going on between you two that I should know about?”

  I laugh. She has no idea. And I don’t either. I don’t even know how to explain it to myself, much less my friend. How do I put into words how I feel about Lance?

  “Don’t worry, mamacita. If anything happens between us, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She sighs. “Okay. I hope so. I love you both to bits, but I worry about Lance, you know. Sometimes he’s…”

  “Unpredictable. Si, I know.”

  She laughs, but it’s laced with concern. “That boy has the biggest heart and has been such a good friend to Cade and me. You remember when he intervened and worked to get us back together, right?”

  “Yeah. That day out in the quad. I remember.”

  And boy, do I.

  That was the first time I felt weak in the knees over a guy. He towered over us, his conditioned body tan and fit, his hair still a little wet from his recent post-workout shower, and he smelled so good. A soapy mixture smelling faintly of leather and man. He’d been talking to Ainsley, trying to convince her to give Cade another chance after they’d briefly split up. Lance wanted Ainsley to come over to their apartment that night. And all while he spoke, I stared at him with a dreamy contentment. The way fangirls worship the guys of One Direction or Shawn Mendez.

  Like they are the only stars in their universe.

  Lance had openly flirted with me that day and I acted like a smitten teenager. Because I was. He was this untouchable basketball player who had swarms of groupies. And I was just…a daughter of a Mexican immigrant who had a crush on a unicorn of a man that she could never have.

  But when he left us standing there to return to his group of friends, the way he said goodbye to me…the way our eyes connected together and how his smile made my heart ricochet in my chest. Well, I knew he was special. That there was something inside Lance that spoke to me and maybe I to him.

  “But he can also be careless with girl. I hate to speak poorly of him, because he’s my friend, but I just don’t want you to get hurt. I love you, girly.”

  Ainsley’s fears are not unfounded, because Lance does go through scores of girls and he presents himself like a player. But that’s the way appears on the outside – to people who don’t take the time to understand him. I know him better than most.

  He’s just not accustomed to having love returned, so he pretends to act like he doesn’t care – even when I know he does. And I know he cares about me.

  “Love you too. I gotta get going, though. I’ll talk to you later this week, k?”

  We hang up and I jump into my car, which I’m borrowing back from my brother tonight. It’s a short drive to Lance’s apartment complex, but during the drive I get to thinking about all the sweet things Lance has done for me over the past year.

  And while some of it might have originally been to get in my pants, he’s turned more sentimental and maybe even romantic without even knowing it.

  That’s the Lance I’ve fallen for. The guy who cooks me dinners every Sunday night (even though he’s a horrible cook and it’s mostly takeout), or stays late after a class to drive me home from school, or quizzes me the night before I have a big test in my Nursing Theories class.

  Or the guy who respects me enough to stop when I tell him “no” – which has been every time - and still continues to like my company even though I’ve turned him down time and time again.

  But enough if enough. I’m tired of saying no, when what I really want to do is say yes. Tonight, it’s going to happen between us. Damn the consequences.

  Forget the potential that this could go bad for me in the long run. Or could ruin our friendship. Or could alienate my family.

  It could also be a jumping off point to something really, really good.

  ~~~

  Lance lives in a four-plex apartment quad just outside of campus. It used to be overflow units for the dorms and is now more like upperclassman housing. What’s nice about the place is that they aren’t typical apartments and have small balconies and a courtyard below each one.

  When I get to the door I notice it’s cracked open and there’s a heavy residue of smoke wafting outside.

  I tap on the door and poke my head in.

  “Lance? You here?”

  I’m treated to silence, so I step inside and cock my head to the side – like that will give me super hearing powers or something. Walking into the kitchen, I notice the mess on the counter and the source of what caused the burning smell.

  A blackened pizza – burnt to a crisp but now soggy – sits in the sink looking like a Freddy Kruger face, all burnt and gnarly. My eyes scan the kitchen and I see a handful of bottle tops on the counter and a bunch of empties in the recycle bin.

  I’m not opposed to drinking and I’m not a tea-totaller or anything. The evidence there could point to any number of things – like Lance had some guys over last night or something. I won’t jump to the wrong conclusion just because my instincts tell me to worry.

  Although I’ve ignored it for the better part of the year, I am concerned about Lance’s drinking. He gets out of hand a lot of the time. But he’s never done anything to put hims
elf or anyone else in harm’s way, so I guess it’s just his way of blowing off steam.

  When I turn, I’m gifted with the sight of Lance standing in the arched doorway, arms raised overhead as he grips the frame, a flirtatious smile drawn across his face.

  “It appears I’ll be taking you out to dinner tonight, as my attempts at cooking have once again gone up in flames.” He lets out a loud cackle of laughter and I bite my lip trying to subdue my own.

  But it’s no use. I burst out laughing looking behind me at the mess he made.

  “A top chef, you are not,” I note, lifting an eyebrow in amusement.

  The next thing I know, he’s got me up against the counter, his arms caging me in as he hovers over me with a serious expression.

  “I have other talents and skills, ya know. If you’re lucky enough, I may show you.”

  He presses his lips to the curve of my ear, his fingers sweeping the hair which I’ve left down tonight over my shoulder, his nose caressing the sensitive skin underneath my earlobe. I tilt my head to the right, closing my eyes from the sheer intoxication of being surrounded by Lance.

  His strong jaw, normally covered with a mass of dark scruff, is clean-shaven tonight and feels soft against the skin of my neck. Words get caught in my throat when he pulls away from me and I see the searing gaze that reaches straight through me and into a private corner of my soul.

  “Micaela,” he says almost breathlessly, my name floating out in the charged air between us. “I need you so bad. Don’t deny this anymore. Please.”

  Although I wasn’t planning on denying him anything at this point, it’s the desperate plea in his voice that’s my undoing. The scratchy quality of it, mixed with heat and desire, has me flinging my arms around his neck like I did earlier today, and grasping at the base of his head.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and my feet find purchase just above his butt, as his hands cradle my bottom and pull me into him with such force it takes my breath away.

  And then we’re all lips, tongues, bodies and heat.

  He’s demanding. Gone is the gentle and sweet Lance, replaced with a man who has finally let go of the restraint like a rubber band that was expanded and now snaps. His urgency to take what he wants from me, even though I’m giving it away so freely, fuels me further. My hands venture over his wide shoulders finding the smooth, taut skin around his neck as I trace down his collarbone.