Block Shot (Hoops 2)

Though getting in Banner’s pants . . . I wouldn’t turn it down right about now. I need more than that, though. And it’s disconcerting because I’ve never needed more before.

I walk out of the shower, dry off. I’m pulling on briefs when the air changes in the room. The leftover steam shifts with the opening of my bathroom door. I glance up and couldn’t be more shocked to see Banner standing there, wearing a white fluffy robe like the one hanging on the back of my door. Damp hair falls past her shoulders. I don’t speak. I don’t move toward her. I don’t do anything but stare because I’ve screwed things up enough doing things. I wanted Banner to come to me.

The next move is hers to make.

28

Banner

“I don't need to be so full of myself

that I feel I am without flaw.

I can feel beautiful and imperfect at the same time.

I have a healthy relationship with my aesthetic insecurities."

* * *

- -Lupita Nyong’o, Oscar-Winning Actress

* * *

Why are you here?

The perfectly reasonable question ricochets inside my head, a lonely echo bouncing around.

I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to . . . what do I want from Jared? We’re well past just liking each other, but not ready for the l-word. We’ve already bumped uglies—twice. I’m the one who insisted on my own room. So what exactly am I here asking him to do?

See me.

The answer whispers from behind the wall I’ve built around myself, a drawbridge I’m ready to lower. Why him? Why Jared, the guy I’ve made sure to hate through the years? I think I made sure to hate Jared because I liked him so much, and if he did what Prescott said he did, then he couldn’t possibly have felt the same for me. My incredulity from that night in the laundromat when he kissed me, when he said he’d been thinking about it for a long time is only matched by my shock earlier when I told him about the blogger. I wondered how someone like Jared, with his parade of beauty queens and Cindy’s, would go so drastically “off brand” and choose someone like me. And tonight I heard the answer.

He sees me. Really sees me. Fifty pounds in either direction, and the look in his eyes—that intensity, the longing, the desire—never changed.

If I asked myself why I’m standing here, Jared’s curiosity is practically foaming at the mouth.

“That night was more traumatic for me than you probably realize,” I say, starting in the middle instead of the beginning, taking up a thought that had no precedence and hoping he’s following. “It was probably more traumatic than it should have been. I’m not the first girl caught naked in a room with a guy.”

I laugh, even though nothing is funny. Jared watches me intently through lingering clouds of steam.

“But I was already self-conscious,” I remind him.

“You wanted the lights out.”

“Right.” I lick my lips and fiddle with the belt of the fluffy white robe. “I had a boyfriend who was less than impressed with me when the lights were on and shared his opinion freely.”

Jared

steps toward me, muffling a curse, but I put my hand up to stop him. With only scraps of clothing between the two of us, and all this steam and naked flesh just under surface, if he gets too close, this conversation will catch fire, and I need to get this out.

“Just . . . let me speak.”

He pauses, leaning one hip against the marble counter, eyes trained on my face.

“I’ve always had a contentious relationship with food.” I swallow the embarrassment that would choke this confession. “I’ve always struggled with my weight, and it got worse in college. I gained a lot in those years, but I was also in a relationship with a guy who used me. He pretended to be attracted to me so I could help him academically. He cheated on me.”

Iron streaks through my hollow chuckle.