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He leans back in his seat, visibly taking a deep breath. “It depends, you can ask but I might not answer.”
I nod before taking my own deep breath. “You were on the basketball team?” Well, it's clear he was at one point. I figured so with the way his living room’s decorated, plus his issue with Aaron, they had to be rivals.
I know I wasn't supposed to bring up the sport, but if he's trying to be who he was then maybe I could help in some way.
He stares at me for a moment and his mouth twitches. “Yeah.”
“And you're not anymore.” It's not a question. I overheard them talk about the upcoming season, and how they wish he'd come back.He tried to dodge the questions, and they let him.
He nods. “I'm not.”
“Why?” I don't even think before I ask, and his face turns cold. His eyes flicking away from me and looking forward.
He fumbles with the headlights, turning them on. I automatically wish I hadn't asked. He's told me over and over he isn't ready to fully open up and I, of course, find new ways to ask without even thinking.
“Is the reason you stopped and the reason you've been away the same reason?” I quickly ask, again cursing myself.
Jesus, Bliss, shut the freak up.
Cuba doesn't say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, his fingers tapping on the touch screen radio changing songs rapidly until he lands on Amine’s Caroline, the volume low but the with the silence between us it may as well be blaring.
Sighing in defeat, I press further against the soft leather seat and tilt my head to look out the window, watching the street lights pass in a blur. I shouldn't have said anything, then maybe this car ride would be different.
Cuba is still as hot and cold as ever. Tonight, he was flirty and all smiles, now he’s silent and cold. This time I know his mood change is my fault.
We don't say anything the whole ride, and I mouth lyrics as the songs change to keep from blurting anything else. When he pulls up to the curb in front of my place, I waste no time hopping out.
“Thanks for the ride.” I refuse to look back when I shut the door, but the engine shuts off and a door closes behind me. Turning, I see Cuba walking around the front of his car toward me.
My eyebrows draw together in confusion when he takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine, giving it a little tug.
“I'll walk you,” he says softly.
I don't know what to make of this, so instead I make my way to my door. I am thankful I live on the bottom floor. He follows next to me quietly until we're at my door. He literally walked me ten steps, but it was nice of him.
I'm not sure if I'm supposed to invite him in. Do I want to invite him in? What does he expect?
“Yes,” he says, his hazel eyes locking with mine. “I've been away and stopped playing basketball for the same reason.”
I take a breath and nod. “Will you tell me sometime?” I didn't want to push again.
A small smile pulls at his lips. “I'm sure India can fill you in or you can Google it.”
My smile matches his and I swing our joined hands softly. “Yeah, well you once told me that they don't know you. I want you to tell me, when you're ready. I want to know you.” Yes, the thought of Googling him crossed my mind when we met, but like he said, he’d rather I didn't, and I'm not going to.
He nods. “I did say that.” His other hand lifts and his fingers brush against my cheek. I lean against his touch without thought. “Thanks for staying and hanging out with me, even though you were bored.”
I was bored but I don't agree. “It was fun.” And it was fun to see him so carefree and not an asshole. “Even with your fan club glaring at me."
He laughs. “I don't have a fan club.”
“Please, you’re not blind.” I roll my eyes.
Cuba shakes his head. “Anyway, thanks for hanging out. I guess I'll see you Monday.”
I nod, a strange feeling dropping in my stomach. “Yeah, Monday.”
I turn to my door, pulling my hand from his, but he pulls back hard enough that I hit his chest. Glancing up at him, our eyes meet, and his hands rest on my waist. His thumbs pressing into my bare skin.
