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“Yeah, I just need to clear my head. Can we wait to talk in the tree house?” he begs, his eyes glued to his feet. I don’t miss the way his eyes close and tighten when he speaks, like he is struggling more so than what he led on.
“Sure, yeah,” I reply quickly, staying quiet the rest of the way.
Settling in, we both fall mute, he’s sitting adjacent me, with his back against the TV stand we have in here. I look around nervously, not sure if I should say something or just wait patiently for him to open up. This is the place we first met and I take time to reminisce while he ponders his own thoughts.
“She didn’t understand the pain she would cause if she left. She left and created a fucking cold shield around my heart.”
I gulp. His mom. He’s talking about his mom. This is the first time he has ever opened up to me or anyone else about this, I’m sure.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can offer or even muster up to say. Really though, what can I say to make this situation better?
“You have nothing to be sorry about, I just don’t think loving someone is something I can do.”
I furrow my brows, my eyes studying his distraught face. Emotional Trey. This is the raw Trey, bare for the world to see. Except I’m the only one in this tree house, I’m the only girl who gets to see this. The rise and fall of a broken man.
“Why do you say that?” I’m really confused about why exactly he is bringing up falling in love during the topic of his deadbeat mother. She left before we even met, when he was eight. Sure, she may cause him to feel lonely in her absence, especially on this monumental day, but love? What does him falling in love have to do with this?
He looks up at me, his eyes drowning with emotion and his face growing heavy with sadness. “My dad found love after my mother left. Kathy is fucking amazing, yes. But how he found love, after what my mother did to us, shocks me.” He shakes his head. “Then today he asked me why I never bring my girlfriends around, and I told him I don’t do the girlfriend thing. I said love is for fools.” He chuckles sarcastically, causing my back to straighten and my heart to feel weighed down. I don’t want him to think love is jaded or overrated, love is beautiful.
“Trey, you can find love again, you just have to let go of your mother and the mistake she made. That—and you have to find the right girl.” I smirk, but he doesn’t return it. Instead, his eyes search my face, looking vacant and disconnected. Like he is processing what I’m saying but from another planet.
He’s so handsome, his blue eyes etching into my memory, his lips searing my skin with the thought of them connecting with mine. The pain he is feeling is something I so badly wish I could take away from him, something I could cure. With love.
“I don’t want love, love turned my dad into a fool and he nearly lost himself in the ashes of my mother’s fire.”
“But love resurrected him, too. It saved him,” I say, referring to Kathy and the relationship her and Pops—Trey’s dad—built. I am a victim of a broken home too, but there is one person in this world who makes me feel alive, fell the desire to be loved and to love. Trey.
“I pity the woman who tries to love me, I’m nothing but a shell of a man. A product of broken love and shattered fairytales.” His deep voice slices through my heart, like a switchblade knife. The man I love—my best friend—could never love, which means he could never love me.
“I think you deserve and will find the purest of loves, Trey. I hope you know that.” I state, scooting closer to him and grabbing his hand into mine. I watch a flicker of hope scorch in his eyes then see it flee as fast as it came. My hope for ever being able to tell Trey my feelings vanishes just as fast as that look did, and I feel the world around me stand still, waiting for someone to come knock it out of orbit.
“I want to believe that. You make me want to believe that, Shay. God, I love you. I would be lost without you,” he confesses, pulling me in his arms. I do my best to keep my tears at bay and my emotions in check. And for just a moment I let him hold me, and for another moment I pretend we are more than best friends. No, I pretend we are lovers and he is loving me in his strong arms. Oh, how I wish.
I SNAP BACK INTO reality. My thoughts only taking me where I didn’t want them to go. Where I would talk myself out of following my heart. I’m a lost cause, and I know it. I damn well know it.
Trey
“PASS THE BALL, FUCKER!” I yell at Kingston from across the basketball court, knowing damn well he won’t pass it to me. He likes to show off for the girls who gather to see guys play in here after their workouts. If I’m being honest, they’re attractive but a little too desperate for me. I’m a man who has his sights set on something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to have—Shayla Donovan.
“If you want the ball come get it, bro, don’t stand by like a little bitch.” Kingston smiles and throws a wink at his own personal fan club.
I roll my eyes as the girls eat it up. I hear them giggling and trying desperately to stand out and get noticed. That’s what they are, girls, not women, the exact reason why I’m trying to avoid them like the plague. I used to be into random one-night stands and no strings attached sort of thing. But as of lately, I want someone I can talk to and bond with on a more intimate level than sex. I’ve never done relationships, but I want to try with Shay. She engages me in everything—conversation, adventure—and to top it off, she turns me on. That’s a first for me; all of this is a first for me, really.
If he wants to play, game on. He could use a reality check for his oversized ego. Running up to him, I swipe left then right as fast as I can before he has a second to catch on. Running with the ball, I take off for the net.
“Oh, nice, you think you are gonna make it? Fat chance, bro.” I hear the sound of his shoes squeaking against the hardwood finish of the court floor, and I jump to take the shot before he can knock me on my ass. I shoot, and I score. Booyah!
“Boom, hotshot! How’s that for a little bitch?” I joke as I dodge his fist just before it makes contact with my shoulder.
“You think you’re the greatest thing since Kool-Aid because you made one shot on me today. Dude, I still won if we are counting points.” He laughs. “Which I am, dumbass.” The girls are still cheering for me, and I take the moment to add fuel to his fire.
“Thanks, ladies,” I tease. “I’ll be here all week.” Flexing my arms, I turn to face them. Kingston hits the back of my head with a loud smack, making my arms drop. Taking this opportunity, he puts me in a headlock.
“All right, pretty boy, you’re cut off, let’s get the fuck out of here. We’re going out tonight and you, my friend, smell like BO.” We head for the locker room to grab our gym bags and make our way out to my black Titan truck.
“Remind me of why we’re going out tonight. You know, Kings, just because it’s a Friday night doesn’t mean we have to go out,” I say as we approach my truck, throwing our bags into the cab before we both climb in. Just then his phone rings and he picks up, putting our conversation on hold.
Starting the truck, I head for home. I look out the windows and take in the scenery. We live right in the city, but the best part is the bursts of green we get. It’s the best of both worlds, having the city and forest. I never thought I would like the rainy city, but I do. This is home. Rain begins to pelt the roof of the truck when we pull up to a stoplight. I’m brought back to our conversation when I hear him say good-bye to whoever called.
