Page 21 of Lovetown, USA

Trey

The ball is slick with sweat, my grip loosening as I drive toward the hoop.

I hear the satisfying smack of sneakers on the hardwood, the echo of a good bounce, the call of my teammates.

For a moment, it feels good. It feels simple.

It’s like being twenty-one again, even though my knee is screaming otherwise.

It still hurts when I do too much.

Which is every time.

We win our scrimmage, then I step off the court, grabbing my water on the way. Bryce claps me on the shoulder. “Aye, lemme holler at you for a minute.”

I incline my head toward the bleachers.

After we settle, he blows out a sigh. “Your girl.”

“Be more specific,” I say.

“The writer. The one who wrote that article.”

My hackles are raised, just a little. “What about her?”

“Where’s she going with that?”

“How the fuck should I know?” I say, laughing. “Write her an email and ask her.”

“I mean, you know I don’t give a fuck, but Sanaa was all up in my ear about it.”

I take a long gulp of water, completely unsurprised by the turn this has taken.

Bryce’s wife Sanaa is on the Lovetown Hospitality and Tourism committee.

I still look back fondly on the dinner they hosted for me when I got to town—I didn’t know at the time that being a handsome, single black doctor was like catnip.

They wanted to get in on the ground floor I guess, but here I am, still single almost three years later despite their aggressive attempts to set me up.

I bet Sanaa reminds Bryce every day what a big disappointment I am.

“Look, I don’t control what she writes,” I say. “Whatever she puts on a page is exactly what she wants to say and she don’t give a fuck what anybody thinks. I lowkey like that about her.”

Bryce frowns, studying me closely before smiling big. “You hit.”

“What?”

He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “I figured you did, but listening to you, I see I was right.”

“Fuck outta here,” I say, laughing. “We’re just friends.”

“And? Nigga, you got a lot of friends.”

“Whatever. Tell Sanaa I said hey.”

I don’t take the bait. I might have a few years ago, but I don’t need to prove my conquests like trophies on a shelf. That shit is lame, and I’m too damn old for it.

My phone buzzes in my gym bag. I fish it out and get annoyed.

It’s Daphne.

I step away, pressing the phone to my ear. “Mayor.”

“Trey,” she says, her voice sharp and impatient. “Give me an update.”

I wipe sweat from my forehead with the hem of my shirt. “I’m getting closer. She trusts me. We have a date tonight.”

She sighs. “Okay. That’s progress, at least.”

“Anything else?”

“You rushing me off the phone?”

“Basically. I got shit to do.”

She waits a beat. “Well, as a show of good faith, send Monica something and I’ll approve it.”

“Why?”

“Because you sound irritated, and I wanna show my appreciation.”

I stare at the empty court, squinting against the sun as I realize something is finally going right for me with this clinic.

“I’ll stop by my office and send you something.”

“Perfect. See? This is give and take, Trey. I’m grateful for your help on this.”

I end the call, irritated by the nagging feeling that there’s something Daphne isn’t telling me, something that explains why she’s so pressed about this.

But I can’t think about that right now. Tonight, it’s all about Lane.

Damn, she looks good as hell.

I’m leading her across the crowded football field, and I can’t help but sneak looks behind me every few steps.

I’d like to think she wore that tight red strapless dress for me, but I guess the why doesn’t matter when the reward is this great.

Brown skin glowing, curves showing, hair pulled off her pretty face, which looks like it belongs to an angel.

I’m the luckiest man out here tonight.

Her eyes are focused on her surroundings, taking in the lantern lights swaying gently in the breeze and the candles flickering in jars all across the grass.

Her eyes dance over the couples sprawled on blankets surrounded by picnic blankets and bottles of wine.

We’re about to be one of those couples, too.

I’m carrying the basket I packed with charcuterie and a bottle of sparkling cider. I also have the chocolate chip cookies I baked for her.

I find a spot near the middle of the field, spreading the blanket and getting her settled onto it before I pull out our snack. The air hums with laughter and soft music from a speaker somewhere at the front.

Feels romantic to me. I hope she feels the same.

“That looks so good,” she says of the spread. “Did you wash the grapes?”

“Yes, your highness,” I tease as I settle next to her on the blanket.

“Sparkling cider.” She shoots me a look. “Is this what we’re doing?”

“If you absolutely have to have alcohol to get through this date with me, there’s a bar in the back.”

She thinks for a moment, then says, “I’m good. I just feel insulted by that, and I don’t know why.”

I put a hand on her knee. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, Lane. I was concerned, that’s all.”

“Whatever. Go get me a martini.”

I nod and move to stand, but she puts her hand on her arm as her face breaks and a smile appears.

“I was kidding.”

“And I was gonna do it. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

“For the record, I don’t need to drink to get through a date with you. Of all the shit I have going on right now, you’re one of a few things that doesn’t make me want a drink.”

I’m both flattered and concerned by that, but now is not the time.

“I don’t think I told you, but they’re showing The Notebook tonight. I don’t know if you like that one.”

“It’s cool,” she says with a shrug. “But do they ever show our movies?”

I think about that. “I’ve been to this two times before. And no, at least not when I was here.”

“Not even, like, Love Jones or Love and Basketball? ”

I shake my head. “It’s funny. My ex-wife hated both of those.”

Her face scrunches up. “Was she white?”

“No,” I say, laughing. “She just didn’t feel like they were really love stories.”

She thinks about that as I pour the cider into our glasses. “I guess now that you mention it…they weren’t, like, epic love stories where the man crosses oceans or grovels or begs to have her in his life.” She takes a sip. “It would be nice to see that in our movies.”

“You think that’s romantic?”

“I do.” She raises her glass. “Let’s toast.”

“Nah, you already drank some,” I tease. “You ruined it.”

She laughs sheepishly. “Sorry. We’ll toast with the next one.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. “So you’ve been here twice, huh? With two different women?”

I smile. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Something flickers across her face, but I can’t read it.

Then a small smile plays on her lips. “While we’re on the subject…I should tell you…I was intimate with someone else.”

I keep my face steady even as my stomach twists. But then she adds, “It was a woman.”

I’m not gonna lie, that hits me differently. I feel my pulse quicken as my body starts to stir below the waist. It takes a second for my brain to catch up, and when it does, I smirk. “Wow. I mean…feel free to invite me next time.”

She laughs, swatting at me. “You’re ridiculous. And like last time, it was just oral. On her part.”

“Damn, girl! How many eaters you got?”

“Shhhh!” Her eyes go wide as she swats me again.

The couples on either side of us turn to look, and I realize how loud I was.

“My bad,” I say to whoever can hear before turning my attention back to Lane. “I mean, I get it, though. Tasting you was—“

“Stop,” she whines softly. “When does the movie start?”

“When the sun goes down.” I pop a few grapes off the stem and feed her one. “How was it?”

She rolls her eyes as she chews. “If you must know…it was actually kind of amazing.”

“Wow.” I stare off into the distance trying to picture it in my head. I’ve worked up a crude visual when she bursts out laughing.

“Not you getting hard in front of all these people.”

I glance down at my dick as if I didn’t already feel the erection. “Just one more question,” I say as I bring my eyes back to hers. “Real quick. Were you standing or laying down?”

She shakes her head. “Just call me Beyonce, cuz you ain’t gettin’ no visuals, baby.”

I laugh at that, feeding her the rest of the grapes before moving on to the crostini and brie.

I watch her lips as they part, her mouth as she chews, her eyes as they flutter shut.

I’m hard again, but it’s not as sexual as the last erection.

This time, my body is responding to the sight of her happy and content.

It’s like I can sense her, and when she’s calm, I’m calm.

When she’s pleased, I’m relaxed. I don’t know why I’m so in tune with her.

I wasn’t even like this with Desiree when we were married .

The crowd claps as the large screen lights up at the front of the field.

My phone buzzes. Of course. Perfect timing. I move to silence it, but when I see the name on the screen, I quickly press the button to answer.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” I say to Lane as I stand. I wait until I’m out of the way of any viewers before I bring the phone to my ear.

“Where the hell you been?”

My son laughs at that, with his goofy ass. “My bad, Daddy. I been busy.”

“Busy doing what? Failing? You on something? Sick? Somethin’ gotta be goin’ on with you for you to ignore me like this. All that money I pay to that damn school. When I call you—“

“Where is this coming from?” he interrupts. “We never talk like that.”

“Your mother. She’s worried about you.”

“Oh.” He sucks his teeth. “Why do you let her get you all riled up? Daddy, I swear, I’m good. I have a girlfriend now, that’s all. She be makin’ a lotta demands on my time.”

I smile at that as relief blooms in my chest. “Well now it all makes sense.”

“You know how it is.”

I nod, because yeah, I do. “You being safe?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you using condoms?”

“Uhhhh, that’s awkward.”

“It ain’t more awkward than getting child support taken out your check or getting your dick swabbed for an STD test.”

“Dad!”

“Look, you a grown man. This is grown man shit.”

He blows out a sigh. “I hear you. I do.”

“Good.”

I hear him shuffling around on the other end of the phone. “We’re good, me and you. Right?”

“Yeah," I say, wondering where this is going.

“Okay, so my mom, she’s probably just trying to stir up something. You know how she is.”

“She’s your mother,” I say with a sigh. “Respect her. Always. Even with me.”

“I hear you.” He pauses for a beat. “Alright then, Dad. I gotta go meet Raven and I can’t show up empty-handed.”

“There you go,” I encourage, laughing.

“Wait, where you at?”

“I’m on a date, actually.”

“Alright, I ain’t gon’ hold you. I want you to get a girl, too.”

I shake my head, smiling at my son. “I’m working on it.”

When I return, Lane is fidgeting, shifting around on the blanket.

“You good?”

“Trying to get comfortable. My lower back is aching a little bit.”

“I got you.” I sit behind her, stretching my legs out on either side. “Lay back against me.”

Just before she does, she turns to look at me. “Did you know about the marriage tax break?”

“Yeah. It’s been around since I got here.”

She frowns. “And you don’t think that’s odd?”

“Not really. Every city has incentives for shit.”

She doesn’t press, and instead leans back, her spine against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, shifting into a rigid stance so that she can relax.

Her hair brushes my jaw, and I can’t help inhaling the scent of whatever’s in her hair, something light and floral.

I nuzzle the curve of her neck, smiling against her skin when she tilts her head just enough to let me.

The sun finally dips, melting into the horizon, painting the darkening sky in streaks of purple and gold.

The lanterns and the flickering flames from the candles glow brighter as the shadows creep in around us.

Whatever’s being said on that screen is beyond me, fading into the distance until I can’t hear it anymore.

For a moment, it feels like the whole world belongs to us. The warmth of her body pressed against mine. The rhythm of her breath syncing with mine. The soft hum of possibility hanging in the air.

I’m lost in her, and I don’t wanna be found.

I know we’re just friends who fuck, but I feel like it’s more.

I feel her sigh. Her body gives up its last bit of slack and relaxes against me.

I press my lips gently against her skin, marking her neck, her shoulder, her ear, her jaw.

Her skin smells like cinnamon and tastes like sweat.

I wish I could take her right here. I’m so gone, I’m imagining laying her down on this blanket, surrounded by the crowd, and making love to her over and over again until we both tap out.

Her hand finds mine. She laces her fingers through my fingers, using her other hand to flip the corner of the blanket over her legs.

“You cold, baby girl?” I murmur in her ear.

“I’m good.”

I wanna tell her I’ll strip myself naked right here and dress her in my clothes if she needed warmth, but I keep my mouth shut. Instead, I close my eyes and hold her tight, not letting go until the credits start to roll.

When the stadium lights come on, I help Cinderella to her feet, then set about gathering our things while she stretches. I’m folding our blanket when a woman approaches, hesitant.

“Dr. Montgomery?”

“Yes?”

She smiles timidly. “Do you remember me? We met at the blood drive a few months back. I had my father with me. Real tall like you.”

“Ms. Jocelyn.”

She beams at that as I reach out for a hug. I try not to ever forget a face. Behind Jocelyn, Lane watches us curiously.

After we part, she gets serious. “My father is…he’s not doing well. He lost his insurance a while back, and—“

“Bring him to me,” I gently interrupt. “Any day next week. I’ll squeeze him in.”

“But—“

“I got you,” I say. “Next week.”

Her eyes widen with relief. “Thank you so much. I wasn’t asking for that, by the way. I just wanted some advice.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you next week.”

When she leaves, Lane studies me, her lips set in a tense line.

“That’s why I wanna open my clinic,” I say. “I never wanna see another person’s health deteriorate because they can’t afford care. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

I stop talking before I go on a rant. I’m known to do that, and I don’t want to turn her off. But she just nods thoughtfully. Doesn’t look disturbed at all.

As I look at her, I can’t shake the feeling that I need her. For the clinic and this whole deal with Daphne, yes, but in another way, as well. And I don’t like that. My motives feel twisted in ways that make me uncomfortable.

This might not end well.