Basketball is Not Life

Chapter Eleven

I laid there wide awake, wondering if I should move or not. Parker was wrapped around me; the clock read five-fifty, which meant he would be waking up in ten minutes. The thought of lying there and acting like I was sleeping rolled around in my mind. Maybe he would leave me be, and we would not have to have the awkward morning of what the hell happened last night and why. I wanted to be mad at him; I did. But I enjoyed last night; it was as if he knew what I needed.

Usually, people kissed before they spent the night in one another's bed. And then all I could think about was Parker kissing me. His lips being on mine. What the hell.

"Stop overthinking it," Parker mumbled, his eyes still closed; he had sensed that I was awake. 

"Just let me enjoy this."

The alarm went off, and Parker hit the snooze button. He never missed a morning on the court. He tightened his arms around me, and I fell back to sleep, his warmth overtaking me.

He got out of bed two hours later; his alarm woke me up.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down at me; he knew I liked to sleep in as late as I could on my late day. "I'll set it to nine for you." He messed with his old school alarm clock that I assumed no one used anymore and departed to his bathroom. The shower turned on and then off a few minutes later, he emerged with a towel wrapped around his body, and he stepped into his closet, shutting the door. The light flicked on under the doorway, and I knew he was getting ready in the closet. Spartan was lying next to me, his head butted against mine, and I whispered. "What have I done?"

Wednesday was my late day for classes, and I arrived home after supper. On the nights I wasn't home, Parker fended for himself. The five starters for Michigan State were huddled around the kitchen island, four pizza boxes open in front of them. That was something that I found surprising; half of the basketball team, a lot of them, did not care what they were putting in their body. Pop, candy, chips, endless amounts of junk food. Their bodies should be their temples, and most of them treated it like it was a chuck e cheese for a five-year-old birthday party. They all looked up when I stepped in. Raymond, my second favorite after Larry, winked at me. Parker was the last one to look up and did a slight nod. A small nod was good; that was the typical response from him. Maybe we could go back to the way it was and not mention the night before. They looked down and went back to memorizing the plays in front of them. And it was like I was never there; besides Marshall, who kept glancing up and looking my way. Larry hadn't been lying when he said I was now on his radar.

I walked around Parker and started getting a pan out; I would be making a mushroom chicken recipe I had come across the week before, the ingredients bought by Parker. He turned around and touched my arm. "There is pizza here if you want some." I usually would not have pizza; the last time I had a slice was fifth grade, and I threw it up at a slumber party at Kelli Diverno's house.

The two kinds left were cheese and pepperoni; I went with the safer option and picked up a cheese slice. I grabbed a paper plate and set it down on the kitchen island; I then went and grabbed a paper towel, set it down next to my plate, and filled up a glass cup with water. I stared at the pizza, psyching myself up to take a bite.

When Larry spoke out. "Is she a vegan or something?" Breaking the silence.

The pizza slice was halfway to my mouth; I set it down and looked up at the starting five; they were all staring at me as if I was a science experiment—amusement all over their faces.

"I haven't had pizza in a long time. I don't know if I like it."

Raymond talked next, "how long are we talking here? A year? Two Years?" I shook my head at both. "Five years?" Another shake of my head. "Six years?"

"Seven years," I said, cringing and not knowing why this was a bad thing and why I felt like I was guilty.

Larry looks at me, stunned. "That is almost a whole decade. I say you don't eat the pizza."

Marshall said, "Why shouldn't she eat the pizza? She needs to eat a slice." He came around the island and picked the slice off the plate, and held it up to my mouth as if he was going to hand feed it to me.

"I'm just saying if you wait three more years, you can say you went a whole decade without pizza," Larry said, his typical goofy grin across his face.

Parker spoke up next, taking the pizza from Marshall's hands and sitting it on my plate. "She has a thing about people touching her food." He was right; I did. I didn't know he would know something like that about me.

Parker looks at me, his eyes not leaving mine. "I think if you have been waiting for something for a long time, don't settle. Make sure you get the best possible." My insides are getting squeamish at his words. His eyes show a hint of mischief behind them.

Marshall shoved him from the side. "If you are going to wait, you need to get Georgio's pizza." The starting five agreed that Georgios Pizza was declared the best pizza in East Lansing, and they would be taking me there Friday night. I grumbled about them wasting a Friday night on me, but none of them seemed to hear my complaints. As far as I knew, I had a date with the five best basketball players at Michigan State.

The rest of the night, I sat in the office doing my homework; Spartan decided to hang in the kitchen instead of with me; it was apparent he would pick food over me every time. It made me almost want to get a bowl of popcorn so he would stay with me.

Parker popped his head in a little after ten and said he would be going to bed. I nodded and started packing my stuff up, not realizing it had gotten so late. The kitchen was cleaned up, and I knew Parker had to clean it up. The guys always left stuff in a disarrayed mess. I was in the hallway when Parker's hand was on mine, and he was gently pulling me into his room. He led me over to his bed again and deposited me there. 

I was in jeans and a t-shirt. There was no way I was making it a whole night in jeans. I got out of bed, and Parker's face fell. There was a look of misery and sadness. I surprised myself and him by walking into his closet. I reappeared in a pair of his boxers and a shirt that fits like a nightgown.

He smiled; the misery that was there moments before was erased entirely. He climbed in next to me and shut off the light. He turned my way and tucked me into him again.

"You fit my body so well," he murmured into my ear.

"I'm still not having sex with you."

"I know." And if he was disappointed by it, he didn't sound like it. 

He tightened his arms around me and pulled me closer like the night before.