The You I've Never Known(67)

But touch we did, with mouths and tongues and, oh, you can hardly imagine the incredible sensuousness of the lowly fingertip when bringing pleasure to a partner is your entire realm of being for an hour or more.

More. Much more, until, completely spent, we fell asleep, safe in each other’s arms. Oh, that was sex as it should be.





What I Can Say


In retrospect

is I still like sex.

But I think it’s better with trust involved.

I didn’t have to worry about doing anything right

or

wrong.

I just had to trust we’d take care of each other, there in bed, but also after, when maybe cake becomes the determining factor, or tamales or a horror flick.

Anything except orgasm

which is not

necessarily dependent on someone wanting to spend the night with you.





What I Can’t Say


With certainty is how I feel about Gabe this morning.

Maybe I overreacted on a purely emotional level.

I mean, he was protecting me, and had he not stepped up, who knows what might have happened?

Still, pulling back from the situation and dissecting his response, I come away

not only disappointed but also a little scared.

Not so much scared that Gabe would hurt me.

I’ve never felt threatened by him before. But then again, how would I know exactly what might set him off?

And that’s what

really scares me— that I never noticed even hints of warning signs before.





Or Maybe


It was just a fluke and I’m way overthinking it, when right now

what I should be thinking about is the game.

I take my car.

Syrah follows with Monica in hers. I’m sure sooner or later I’ll try to cheat the system and allow someone under twenty-five to ride with me

before my provisional license becomes unrestricted in a year. But for now I’ll play by the rules.

The high school isn’t far, and when we pull into the parking lot, I’m gratified to see it’s already filling with spectator vehicles.

A quick scan

doesn’t reveal Dad’s car, but it’s still an hour to game time,

so maybe he’ll show.

The GTO, now sporting a fresh coat of racing green paint, is noticeable, however.

I park close to the locker room, go in to suit up in my shiny blue uniform, nerves tingling.

This will be my first actual game

and as starting center the pressure to perform well is building.

Coach Booker gives a short pep talk

that does little to alleviate the tension bloating the space between the locker rows.

At least it’s not just me who’s nervous.

We’re all pacing

or bouncing up and down on our toes.

It’s a relief

when Coach calls us to go warm up.

At least until we file into the gym,

where the bleachers seem to sag beneath the weight of so many people.

But hey, it’s cool.

No reason to think we’ll blow it.





From Tip-Off to Halftime


It’s a fairly even match, the scoring shifting back and forth between teams.

Syrah misses a couple

of rebounds; I miss a shot or two, and so does Monica.

But on the upside, I sink four two-pointers and one from outside the key that nets us three. Monica scores a half-dozen times,

including the free throw

that puts us ahead

going into the locker

room at the half.

As we start in that direction, I scan the bleachers.

No sign of Dad. Big surprise.

I do catch sight of Hillary, who’s sitting between Peg and Gabe. They’re laughing.

One other person stands out, mostly because she holds

herself painfully straight, which puts her a good six inches taller than the man beside her, and if I’m not mistaken,

she’s staring at me.

When she sees me notice her, she smiles warmly,

as if we know each other, which we definitely don’t.

If she wasn’t so pretty,

I might think she was

some creepy stalker.

Maybe she just likes

watching stellar girls’

basketball play.

In the locker room,

Syrah comes puffing up,

water bottle in hand.

Did you see Gabe, all over Hillary? What’s up with that?

Why do you care? asks Monica. Not like he’s yours.

But maybe he could be.

I mean, as long as you’re finished with him. Addressed to me.

“Listen, if you can snag him, go for it.” Seems doubtful.

“Anyway, I don’t think

he and Hillary are together together. Just sitting together.”





Coach Rallies Us


For the third quarter, figuratively slapping us on the back and promising: You girls got this.

Now get on out there and take ’em down!

We don’t exactly drop them to their knees, but two quarters of hard play put us ahead by four at the end of the game, and I can personally take credit for nineteen points, second only to Monica.

Syrah even scored six, so we’re all happy