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“Seriously, Candy?” I groan.
He laughs. “What?! They're everywhere man, and I've been hungry for a little white meat,” he points to the bucket of chicken. “These thighs and breasts aren't cuttin' it. Yo man is starvin'.” He licks his lips and rubs his hands together.
I shake my head. “Fine, send them up.”
The girls arrive and it's just as I suspected. Beautiful. Fame-hungry. Eager as all hell. One latches onto Candy and the other sits too close to me. She talks to me about her viral TikTok video, showing me how many views it has. I nod, smiling at the weird dance she’s attempting in the video as her breasts bounce in her barely there clothing, but I'm not here.
I type her name into every available social media platform. No Instagram. No TikTok. No Snapchat. No Face—
Okay, there's a Facebook account.
Dylan Crawford; Northwestern. It's her. Has to be. I've seen the dingy sweatshirt.
Candy's got the girl taking a bite of chicken off the bone as he holds it above her. My face distorts as the greasy chicken slides across her face, her teeth gnawing at the hanging meat.
“Gotta clean that bone, girl,” he comments with a smirk, teeth pressed into his bottom lip as he watches her.
Fucking freak. The man has some weird kinks. Kinks that promise to stain my couch. I shake my head, sighing as I look back down at my phone screen.
Damn girl has her account marked as private, so I can't see anything other than the profile picture. But that's what freaks me out the most. I sit up on the edge of the seat, my elbows on my knees, as I take a closer look. It's a silhouette shot of what I'm assuming to be the back of her head. She's with a guy. They have their arms wrapped around each other, looking off into the distant sunset off the edge of some cliff.
Not possible she has a boyfriend and did all that she did in that hotel room. Right?
Am I her dirty little secret?
Candy and his woman are starting to get friendly, and the girl next to me looks bored as fuck after taking all the selfies she needs around my lavish condo. I haven't entertained her in the least. I'm actually sitting here scouring the internet for another woman. Before I can kick them out, Candy asks the chicks to go back to his place. They leave together, eager to continue their night, and I'm stuck with Netflix and a half-eaten bucket of chicken.
I decide to click the friend request and wait until she accepts me.
I think about sending her a text, but I’m at a loss for what to say. It's strange, this circumstance. It's not normal. We shared something, and now we're expecting to pack it away and pretend it didn't happen?
I'm finding it's harder to do than I'd imagined.
26
Lake
ThankGodmyfocusis therapy.
It doesn't even seem suspicious to my teammates or coach that I need to get back to it. Back to her.
Therapy has been decent this past week between my team meetings and practices. I've had a full decrease in my swelling and pain, and a full active and passive extension of the healing knee. We are really pushing forward with my rehabilitation, and I couldn't do it without this girl pushing me to be my best. The one who's been silently working with me the past week since the night that ruined me, not once mentioning it. The girl who's not once mentioned the fact that I friend requested her on Facebook and she's left me in pending.
Me, Lake Decker, in pending.
She's definitely been more distant. I had to reschedule an appointment for a press thing this past week, and another to help Dale with my mom, who seems to be doing much better at the moment, and Dylan simultaneously canceled on me for something she had going on. Our sessions, when we are able to meet up, are quiet and serious. The banter that used to be there is gone. It's all business with her again. Back to being the dictator with a lack of personality.
But I'm a child, as she says, and my patience is nonexistent.
I'm done pretending like I don't see the genuine smile she tries to push back when she sees me first thing in the morning. Done ignoring the flush of her cheeks when I mention how pretty she looks with her sandy hair tied up in a high bun. Done faking like I don't feel her heart beating out of her chest when we’re in close proximity during a new exercise. I'm done imagining her jealous stares, like when the flock of women circled me this morning for autographs and pictures outside the gym.
I saw her eyeing them up. Comparing herself. But it's you, D, that's got me hooked.
I've got my tricks. I'll find a way to get us in that space again. The place where she opens herself to me in every way possible.
“You got this Lake. C'mon, gimme two more. Really push through it,” she says, standing on the edge of the leg press machine, facing me as I struggle with my last few reps.
“I'ma give you whatever you need, Chief,” I groan, finally pushing out the last two. “Fuck!” I drop the weight and grab my leg, sucking in air through my teeth.
