IILICIT AFFAIRS ━━ Lamelo Ball

3.3

Obviously, I couldn't avoid Lamelo forever. But to be fair to myself, I did a pretty damn good job. I felt like a kid again— playing this prolonged, probably one-sided game of hide and seek. But like every game of hide and seek, the hider is always found.

Lamelo caught me off-guard after one of his pre-season games. I was finishing up an interview with his coach. I'd been tucked aside in a long corridor, writing notes in my little notepad, and I began brainstorming the highlights I'd talk about in that article the following morning. I was so immersed in my work, I forgot that I about that whole game I was playing. Luckily, I wasn't the only playing, apparently.

"You been avoiding me, Anne-Breanna?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

Without looking up from my scribbled paper, I replied, "Not the case whatsoever. Just a busy girl."

There's never a comfortable silence with Lamelo. His presence is just so... big and loud that when you shut that down, it's just so... unnatural. You can sense Lamelo from miles away, and he wouldn't even have to yell.

Lamelo stayed quiet for a while. He just kept peeeing over me. I guess he was trying to piece what he wanted to say to me. He's always been so conscious of the way he words things around me. He used to say it was because I was a writer, and that any wrong wording could mean some doomsday laid upon him.

In this soft, almost timid voice, he said, "About the party..." Lamelo trailed, not completing his thoughts. I didn't get why he couldn't just say it. It was as if saying it made it real and not some nightmare stuck in the back of his head.

"What about the party?"

"Look, you know I've never been good with words. But like, what you said got me thinking about my character and all of that," he explained, scratching his head.

"Okay... I'm glad you've been reflecting, Lamelo," I replied. I wasn't so sure of what to say. I mean, what exactly are you supposed to say?

"That's not all. What you said made me realize that I wanna be the best version of myself for Skyla."

There was something about that sentence that made my heart quiver. Listen, Lamelo isn't a bad guy, but he's got that reputation for a reason— the playboy reputation. Something about him wanting to be good for Skyla and not me... it hurt. I'm sure Skyla is a wonderful woman, but what did she have that I didn't?

Unfazed, I replied, "Okay... what's that gotta do with me?"

"Bre," he never really called me Bre, but I liked it 'cause that was his thing. Every time he'd say my name, I swear my heart would glisten, even if I was supposed to hate his fucking guts. "I've hurt a lot of people. This past summer, I've just been on an apology tour. I've been making amends to those I really hurt."

He paused, gathering his thoughts together. It was hard to stop the tears from slipping as every memory of hurt played out. "And I meant it when I said you were the one I hurt the most. I... I loved you back then, you know, but then I just left you hanging."

"Stop," I commanded, but by then the tears stained my notepad. "Please, don't remind me. It's okay now. It's whatever. Just please leave me be."

"Anne-Breanna. I want you to forgive me and mean it," he took a seat right next to me and placed his hand on my thigh. He was staring me right in the eyes, but I couldn't look. Medusa would have been a safer bet to make eye contact with.

I turned away, moving his wandering hand off of me. "You're forgiven, LaMelo. Just please... your presence is too much. I... I can't control my emotions around you, man. I don't know if I wanna slap you, breakdown in front of you, or hug you. Yeah, we work in the same field but please, for my sake. Leave me alone. That's all I ask. I'll forgive you if you do that."

He looked defeated after that. But LaMelo's not the kind of guy who is defeated so easily. His resilience helped him navigate the basketball atmosphere and as well as the real world. He fought for whatever he wanted, and for some reason he wanted me more six years later than sophomore year.

"Anne-Breanna. Let me make it up to you," he pleaded once more.

"How are you magically going to undo years of hurt?"

"We could always start off with lemon bars and coffee at Monét's."

And with lemon bars once again, came the downward spiral that has led me to this point, Kepner.

***

AUTHOR'S NOTE
hi. it's me again.

it's been a whileeee but i've been busy with work and school. so much has happened but here is an update. it's short but hopefully I can start updating more frequently after exam szn