Love and Other Things

chapter fifteen: when are we leaving?

I don't see Love for the next two weeks. Not at parties, not at KidzTime considering they'd canceled it to give the kids their fall break. She hadn't texted me, she hadn't sought me out, and she hadn't even used London as a messenger.

Maybe asking her in the dead of night after she'd broken up with her — and pardon the Henry Stone reference — situationship wasn't the best idea. Or anywhere in the wheelhouse of a good one. At least I assume that's her situationship considering she kissed me before the argument, and I don't think Love is in the business of cheating.

Today was a gym day with the hint of a study session classified by Trey rattling off flashcard terms to me as we study for the Microeconomics exam we have in the morning.

I'm lying flat on the bench, hands gripping the handle of the bar and I lift it from the rack.

"Bench pressing 250 straight out the gate is wild, man," Trey comments, and I note that he might be right but with how much stress running through my veins, I'd be disappointed in myself if I went any lower. I can see the sun setting through the windows on the fourth floor of the gym, and part of me regrets coming out so late in the day but I also spent most of it sitting around my apartment, phone in hand as I waited for a call or a text or something from a certain someone.

I do one rep, "You say that like you can't do the same."

He shrugs, "Yeah, but I'm bigger than you so it's less of a spectacle."

Compared to my 6'3" frame, Trey is a beast. He's one of the tallest on the team and considering I'm not one of them, that should put that into perspective for anyone who's seen any of North Atlantic's athletic lineup.

Similar to most of the team, we met freshman year when we all started playing together and I roomed with his brother and maybe slept with his sister. It was when we were talking and one night of hanging out together getting food turned into us eating said food in the backseat of my car, and me eating ... something else. She transferred to a school with a better dental program so it's easier to pretend nothing happened when I don't have to see her often.

Regrettably, her brothers know because we accidentally let it slip out when we were all hanging out, but her defending me was enough to lighten the ass beating I would've inevitably suffered.

"There's no spectacle," I grunt, completing my tenth rep. I rack the bar and sit up, "I just need to burn off whatever energy I got running through me right now."

"Right, 'cause that Celtics rep approaching you has nothing to do with this." I turn to him and his expressive brown eyes light up, "I saw him walking out the locker room at that game against LVU and you had a lil' smile on your face. It wasn't hard to put together."

I sigh and stand, "Who else knows?"

He shrugs, poking his bottom lip out, "I don't know, man. I see more than I hear. You know that." He points to the cochlear implant in his right ear that he rarely wears and I nod. Right. "If they do know, though, I think they'd be happy for you."

"Yeah, that's if I was even thinking about it."

"You're not?" I shake my head, "Are you dumb?" I cringe at how harshly he says it, "You personally got approached by a recruiter from the NBA and you're not even thinking about it? Did you hit your head at that bar the other day?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. Of course, I expected as much backlash from someone who's practically a shoo-in for any team in the NBA, but considering he's the only other person who knows, apart from Parker, it doesn't help that he doesn't know the situation with my dad.

"I didn't, and it also doesn't matter because it's not something I want to do." What I meant is it's not something that my Dad would want me to do. "I just wanna focus on what I'm here for and that's law."

I can feel Trey's eyes burning into the side of my head as I add another set of weights.

"You obviously want to change the topic so let's talk about that girl at the bar. What was her name again?"

I don't know what about me said 'Let's change the topic of conversation to something I also don't want to talk about' but Trey obviously can't read situations as well as he claims to. Instead of completely ruining the mood, however, I decide to entertain it. Maybe I can get some advice from someone who pulls as much as I'd expect him to. And it's a lot.

"Love," I lower myself back onto the seat.

He smirks, "Are y'all like a thing now? You're driving her home and shit."

"That was one time and no, we're not a thing. If anything, we're less than a thing."

"How does that work?"

"We don't talk. At least, we haven't since that night."

He snorts, "I can see you're really torn up about it." I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not but I just allow him to hover his hands below the bar I've now lifted, spotting me. "Is that your fault or hers?"

"Neither. We're not friends, remember?" I grunt out of strain and slight frustration. It is hers though, isn't it? She kissed me and I kissed her back. I defended her and drove her home. I told her to text me but she hasn't. I know I shouldn't expect anything in return for anything I've done for her, but I thought she'd at least let me know something.

"Not-friends don't kiss like that." Trey's words make me pause. I quickly rack the bar with his help before I drop it on my neck. "That was an 'I'm in love with you' kiss. 'Get in the bathroom and pull those panties down' kinda kiss."

"Okay, how long are we going to talk about this?"

"Five more minutes." He deadpans, "Seriously, how do you feel about her?"

"I don't know." I grab my water. Maybe I can drown myself with an entire Gatorade squeeze bottle worth. "We see each other every now and then and we always insult each other when we do, but we don't talk casually or in any other context."

"And you want to." He doesn't say it like a question but I respond like it is one.

"I wouldn't be opposed."

"Then do it." He suggests as if it's that easy, "Just talk to her."

My head hangs, eyes on my feet, "I told her to text me and she hasn't. I don't wanna come off like I'm trying too hard."

"Girls love that shit." No, they don't. "Matter of fact, you should be showing up to her crib and demanding she talk to you." She doesn't take well to demands, I mentally note. "Not in a white boy way though, 'cause she'd probably murder you or something."

Right.

It's when we complete our workout that I even think about checking my phone. There are notifications from different group chats, either for group projects in different classes or the team group chat that I had to mute the other day because there was a weekly topic that had them blowing up my phone. More notifications, more messages all as a result of an hour away.

But one message sticks out to me. One that has my heart racing and a grin on my face so wide that my cheeks hurt.

Love Lewis
when are we leaving?

hola mis amores