Page 15

ELEVEN

lorenzo

Cash is supposedly on his way over, hopefully to feed me and apologize for almost screwing up our senior season, and I’m excited for some Friday night company and a little break in the monotony of recovery.

But he’s half an hour late, I’m irritated from having my arm trapped in a sling, and now I’m half hoping he does bring that magic weed, because even though I haven’t touched anything like that in months, I’m bored out of my mind.

But when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not Cash standing on the other side.

“Allison,” I say, caught off guard. “Hey.” Awkwardly, I take my phone out of my pocket. “Did you ... ?”

“I didn’t text first. Sorry. I was just driving by and thought I’d take a chance you were home.

” Alli smiles apologetically, but unless she was driving by on her way to a date, I call bullshit.

Her hair’s all perfect and her lavender perfume is heavy and she’s wearing this jeans-and-off-the-shoulder-sweatshirt thing that I know from watching Ruby isn’t as casual as girls make it look.

“No problem. Um ...” I gesture inside. “Come in.” I follow her into the living room, snatching a random flannel button-down off the back of the couch when I remember I’m shirtless.

Alli sits on the edge of the couch and crosses her legs, her gaze following my fingers up my body as I quickly button the shirt. “Sorry to ambush you,” she says softly, her eyes on my chest.

“Don’t be. I was just doing my stretches. It’s pretty much all I ever do these days.”

Her gaze finally reaches my eyes. “So you don’t have plans tonight?”

“I do,” I say quickly. “Cash is coming over.”

“Oh.” It’s hard for me to admit I don’t hate the disappointment in her voice.

It’s flattering that even after six months apart, while she spent spring in Paris, she still comes home and looks at me the way she used to.

That even as demure as Alli is, she can’t take her eyes off my naked chest. Because Alli is beautiful and accomplished, and if she were right for me, she’d probably be the perfect girlfriend. But she’s never been right for me.

“So what’s been up? How do you like being stateside again?”

“Good. An adjustment, I guess.” She tucks her hair behind one ear. “I’ve been wanting to see you.”

I swallow. “I know,” I say guiltily. “I owe you a dinner. Things have been busy lately.”

“No, I get it. I’d just like to catch up and see you for a while. It’s been such a long time.”

We broke up weeks before she went to France, and we were clear that her going abroad wasn’t the reason for the breakup—it was just the excuse.

And when spring rolled around and she was telling me she missed me, I was clear that I wasn’t looking for a relationship when she came back.

But now here she is, asking me for another chance, and it’s hard for me to say the words I know are going to hurt her.

Because Alli has never done anything wrong except for not being the girl I want.

“Al,” I start, hoping my mouth might just take over with something brilliant, because my brain isn’t providing shit. “We can catch up, yeah, but I have a lot going on with recovery and trying to get ready for fall. I’m not ... available, you know?”

“I’m not asking for much, Lorenzo. A dinner?”

Funny how she thinks I don’t know her anymore. That just because we spent a semester apart, I don’t know when she’s saying the opposite of what she means. “It’s not just a dinner.”

She raises her chin but keeps her eyes trained on me.

“Right?”

She slips the black headband off her head and tousles her long hair. “Okay, yes, if I had my way? It would be more than dinner.”

The way she says it— more than dinner —instantly makes my mind go to sex.

Maybe that’s why she said it just like that.

And if she really meant sex, I might even consider it in a weak moment—this definitely being a weak moment.

But that’s not what she meant. I run a hand through my hair.

“We were pretty good together, Alli, but there’s a reason we didn’t go the distance.

And right now I don’t have anything to give to a relationship.

” That’s not all of it. Alli wants to marry young, have babies and nannies and tutors, a big house, and a dual-income household.

She knows what she wants and she wants it soon.

Meanwhile, I know nothing about my future except that I can’t get serious until I can give all of myself to a girl.

And that’s a distant goal. “I can’t give you something I don’t have. ”

She looks down at her manicured hands. “I just miss how things used to be.”

“Yeah.” I sigh. I don’t have it in me to watch her cry tonight. “I know.”

But it’s a fatal mistake to give her even that much. She raises her eyes to mine, and I see a little flicker of hope. Alli’s like a honey badger: She sounds sweet and adorable, but when she wants something, she clamps down and doesn’t let go.

My phone beeps and I pull it out, grateful for the interruption. Maybe someone’s dead and I can run out of here home free.

Alli gives an expectant look at my phone.

“That’s Cash. He’ll be here soon.” I stand.

“So we can talk another time?” she asks, standing up.

“I said what I need to say, Al.”

“Well, I didn’t.” A car door slams out front, and even though I know it can’t be Cash yet, she seems to think otherwise.

She blinks and turns for the door. Near the threshold, she pauses and turns back to me.

“I have an exhibition coming up. Some of my photos from France. Maybe you’ll come? I could use the support.”

“I don’t know. Send me the details and I’ll see what I can do.”

I drop my head in my hands when the door closes behind her. I gotta get free.

“It’s open!” I yell from the living room floor when someone pounds on my front door.

Cash walks in—scratch that, hobbles in, his backward hat askew and his arms loaded with pizza boxes and groceries.

“Down here,” I say from my spot on the floor when I see him looking around in confusion.

“Nice ass.” He raises an eyebrow as I roll from my side to my back. “What are you supposed to be doing?”

“Physical therapy. This is what I do. This and eat.” I eye the greasy pizza box and catch sight of a carton of ice cream in a grocery bag as Cash places his burden on the table. “Thanks for doing your part at helping me stay in shape.”

“Lemme see.” He pushes his foot against my abs, testing their strength. “Nah, you’re still good. Besides, we can’t all have eight-packs, can we?” He makes a face like he’s hot shit and lifts his T-shirt. It’s true, his abs are even better than mine. And mine are pretty great.

“Yeah, break an ankle and see just how ripped your abs stay.”

“I didn’t break an ankle.”

“Yet.”

“So what are we doing tonight? You really can’t go out?”

I start another set of stretches. “No.”

“When’s your doc gonna clear you to go out?”

I can’t help laughing. “I’m not under house arrest, moron. My doctor doesn’t forbid going to bars; he just needs me to take it easy.”

“Great, so you can take it easy on a barstool. I’ve got this hot volleyball chick texting me all day.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t have to come over, man. Go out, it’s cool. I’m happy here.”

“This is you happy?” He takes in the sight of me sprawled on the floor. “Fine, if you don’t want to go out, we’ll stay here.” He pops open a pizza box and sits down, but I can tell by the way he’s perched on the edge of his chair that he’s restless.

“You can go, man,” I say. “You’ve brought me dinner, so your duty is done.”

He shakes his head. “I got a feeling you’re gonna need help getting off the floor.” His eyes land on something on the side table, and he reaches for it. “Whose is this?” He holds up a black headband.

Alli’s. I wonder if she did it on purpose to keep me thinking about her. If so, her panties would have done the job a lot more effectively. “Definitely not what it looks like.”

“It looks like a girl’s been here.”

“Alli stopped by. Nothing interesting happened,” I report flatly.

He drops the headband. “Did you shut her down?”

“Yeah ... and then I fucked up and told her maybe I’d come to her show.”

“Really drawing it out there, aren’t you, man?”

“I spelled it out for her—not interested in a relationship. But I’m fucking cooped up and miserable and she comes in without warning? It’s not easy to tell her I don’t ever want to see her again. I can’t handle the crying tonight.”

“Not your problem if she’s sad. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He flips the TV to a baseball game.

I peel myself off the floor and open a beer. “So what’s your story?” I point the beer at his ankle before handing it to him.

“Okay, have you ever seen those pictures where the dude jumps on a broom and someone takes a picture just at the right time so it looks like the guy’s a witch flying his broom?”

“You had to get on a roof to do that?”

“With a pool underneath. It looks so fucking cool, dude. You jump off the roof with the broom, someone snaps a pic, and you land in the pool.”

“Are you aware of the existence of photo-editing apps?”

He gives me a look like I’m a disappointment.

“Okay, so what went wrong?”

“Steep roof, man. Very steep.”

“And you were shit-faced.”

“Right.”

“Man, you need to quit fucking around like that.”

“I’ve heard it all,” Cash says in a warning tone. “I don’t need it from you.”

“I’m sorry, but look at me.” I gesture to my shoulder. “I’m at a total standstill here, no clue if I’m ever going to play at a top level again. Or play at all.”

“I get it, Lor. Fucking sucks. But I partied a little too hard, like we all do, and something went wrong. Can’t be helped. In two days I won’t even feel it. The worst part is I lost one of my earrings.” He touches one ear, which is missing its usual gaudy stud.

I bite my lip and look at the TV. I know he gets it, but I’m a fucking grouch and, well, what if he doesn’t actually get it? Because if he did, he wouldn’t be partying that hard in the first place. “Fine. Just stop being stupid and we won’t have to have this conversation again.”

Cash snorts. “You know what? Fuck off.” He stands and grabs his phone off the couch. “Sorry you’re laid up, but?—”

“That’s not why—” I say quickly, but he cuts me off just as quick.

“And sorry about your cousin. I get you have a fucking sob story, Lorenzo, but we’re all sick of hearing you tell us what to do.”

I swallow, watching him hobble toward the door. We? So my friends have been talking about this when I’m not around? “What, you’re out?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Come on, Cash. Hey, I wasn’t calling you stupid. I just got worked up.”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna go meet this girl for a while. I’ll come back in a few hours.”

Yeah, I wouldn’t want to spend the evening with me either. “Whatever. Stay out. Get laid. I don’t need to be put to bed.”

He ignores me, finding his wallet among the bags he dropped on the counter.

No one’s put the ice cream away yet. I turn back to the TV, determined not to say anything more to him.

Yeah, I’m a total nag, but I know what I’m talking about.

I’m right, Cash is wrong. But regret is already building inside me.

“Sorry, man,” I say when he’s almost to the door.

Cash stops, pausing before he turns to look at me. “Not a big deal, dude. Just ... chill the fuck out already. Everyone misses the way you used to be.”

The way I used to be? The hell does that mean? I’m still who I always was. Cash is being a fucking drama queen. Just because I want to focus on my body instead of spending every night drunk doesn’t mean I’ve changed.

I grit my teeth. I should have listened to Ruby and just shut up.