21. Lucy
CHAPTER 21
LUCY
I t’s been a few weeks since the promo shoot with Pierson Automotive, and relatively nothing has happened. I mean, other than Jordan and I both getting awesome new cars. I know basically zero about cars, but apparently this is a good one. All I know is mine is a really pretty shade of olive green and I recognize this makes me sound like the dumb girl that I am–“Ooh, look, a pretty color”—but I just can’t get myself to care about cars.
I’m sorry, but it gets me from point A to point B.
And it’s green.
That’s all I know.
To be totally honest, they could’ve saved the money by just giving us one car between the two of us because we’re basically together every minute that we aren’t in class or at the arena. And most days, we even drive to workouts at the arena together.
When six a.m. rolls around and it’s time for weightlifting, I can count on Jordan being pulled up to the curb outside my house, usually with a muffin or bagel for me. His apartment is closer to the Cozy Cow, so he frequently picks up morning snacks on his way to get me. I munch my muffin and hold his hand as we soak in the quiet of the morning.
He’s a little bit unreal. The selflessness he displays on a daily basis is borderline suspicious, yet he never shows any signs of resentment or expects anything in return. It’s unconditional–maybe not love yet, but definitely unconditional like . Is that a thing? It should be, because that’s my life.
I’m becoming incredibly spoiled, and I know it. I genuinely didn’t believe guys like this existed. Or a guy–I don’t need multiple. I just need him. Even if he’s seemed slightly off ever since the shoot. He doesn’t talk about it, but in moments of quiet, I catch him nervously fidgeting or staring off into space with a sad expression blanketing his otherwise gorgeous face.
Not that he’s not gorgeous when he’s sad, because he definitely is.
Still incredibly model-like.
It’s just hard to enjoy it when I know he’s in pain. Or a better way to describe it is that he’s anticipating the pain that he believes is inevitable. He’s not in it quite yet, but he might as well be. Kind of like how the anticipation of getting a shot at the doctor’s is often worse than the actual shot itself.
The tough part is, I don’t know how bad this shot is going to be. And neither does he. Or if the shot is coming at all. There’s a good chance that it won’t, considering the deal that Pierson agreed to. But with Sasha being a wild card of bitterness, you never know.
So, I’ve decided that I am the official Czar of Distraction. These last few weeks have been idyllic, aside from the looming threats of Sasha and Jordan’s father casting a shadow over almost everything we do.
Which sounds morbid.
But we’ve still tried to find joy in it.
We’ve baked a million new recipes and gone bowling at the hole-in-the-wall place connected to a grungy bar here. Every day, I’m brainstorming potential new ways to both distract Jordan and keep his spirits up. Most nights, we just end up watching reruns of The Office or Suits –Jordan’s choice, because he wants to be a lawyer–and eating whatever we baked that day. It’s a pretty good life.
It’s also no secret that make-out sessions are really the best diversion from negativity, so we employ that regularly. And every time he smiles down at me when we finally come up for air, I forget any anxiety I was carrying. Our tactics are working in creating on-court success as well. We’re both having the best seasons of our lives.
I just set a record for winning Player of the Week more times than anyone in our conference’s history, and Jordan has won it a few times now too–which is something he’s never done before. I’m definitely more excited for his awards than I am for my own.
The best was when we won it the same week and to celebrate, both our teams carried the two of us around the arena on their shoulders. They chanted “love and basketball” while they did it. Well, everyone except Sasha, who suddenly really needed to take a phone call.
Despite my intense embarrassment and the cheesiness of the whole ordeal, it’s now one of my favorite memories. I just really hope it never happens again.
I lug my giant duffle bag into the arena and finally give in to just dragging it on the floor. We are finally done with road trips for a few weeks. Both our team and the men’s team have one game left in conference play this weekend. Then we get a week off before the conference tournament.
If we win this weekend, we will have gone undefeated in conference play–the first team in our school’s history to do so. The men’s team needs a win to secure the #2 seed in the tournament. Needless to say, the pressure is on.
I push open the door to our locker room and Jacey is there, along with two of the juniors, Taya and Malika. They are gathered around Taya’s phone, looking excited. Malika rushes over to me and gives me a hug.
“Congrats, girl! This is going to make you huge!”
I open my mouth to reply but pause because I have no clue what she’s referring to. “Uhh, thank you? What did I do?”
It sounds arrogant, but sometimes I win awards I don’t know about, so I find out from other people. I’m assuming this is one of those times. Taya chimes in.
“The Pierson Automotive content just dropped. It’s going viral–like, already approaching a million views on some of the Instagram reels.” She hands me her phone. “Haven’t you seen it? You and Jordan look so freaking adorable together.”
My eyes are struggling to focus. My heart is racing, and the pit in my stomach is about two million pounds of pure cement. I can’t even absorb the video she’s trying to show me.
My brain can only focus on one single thought: I need to find Jordan.
Just as I spin around to walk back out of the locker room, a massive group of my teammates comes in, with Sasha in the middle. They’re all watching something on her phone while she wears a satisfied grin.
“Oh, my gosh, Lucy. Did you see the content? Wow, our marketing crew really killed it. How happy are you? You and Jordan are famous!”
Smirking, she raises her eyebrows, waiting for my reply.
This conniver has me, and she knows it. I can’t act upset because I’d have to reveal all the vulnerable details of Jordan's home life. I can’t make an accusation about the deal because I don’t even know for sure that it was in writing. Basically, I can’t do anything. Or say anything.
But I’m also so livid that I don’t trust myself to speak.
I push past her into the big hallway, tears blurring my vision, heading toward the men’s locker room .
Tyler is just walking out, dressed in his practice jersey and pushing a rack of balls.
“Where’s Jordan?” I don’t have time for a greeting.
He sees the look on my face and becomes obviously concerned. “Lucy, is everything okay? Did something happen?”
I take a deep breath and rub my temples. “Yes. Sorry I came in hot—I just really need to talk to Jordan. Do you know where he is?”
He scratches his chin. “Umm, I think he mentioned something about going to see Coach Daniels before practice.”
I turn on my heel and beeline for the wing of the arena that houses the coaches’ offices. As I turn the final corner, I almost collide with a giant mass moving slowly in the other direction.
It’s Jordan. Head turned down, shoulders slumped, looking pale.
I don’t say anything. I just wrap my arms around his waist, and he nestles his head into the crook of my neck. We just stand there–I don’t even know how many minutes pass. I just know we stand there until we’re breathing in sync, slowly and deeply.
Finally, he raises his head. “Maybe I should be a psychic. I predicted this whole thing. Or I should go buy a lottery ticket or something.”
He’s trying to make light of it and even attempts a smile, but it doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes.
I hold both his hands in mine, trying to will him to be okay. “What did Coach Daniels say?”
He shakes his head. “I mean, he said he talked to Mr. Pierson about what the content would be used for, but it was more of a handshake agreement. He passed along the message to his marketing and social media teams, and even told them the nature of why. But…”
I’m seeing red. “So, Sasha got all the information about what it would take to hurt you? And then went ahead and did it?”
He shrugs in defeat. “Sounds like it. We can’t really do anything now. It’s out there. We aren’t going to piss off the Piersons by making them take down their most successful campaign ever. Now the fallout is on me.”
I squeeze his hands harder, but I can feel him starting to shut down. He’s trying to distance himself from me already. Good luck doing that without a fight. “No, it’s on us. You aren’t in this alone. I’m in it with you. Please let me be.”
The smile he gives me is simultaneously broken and sweet and defeated.
“Lucy, I’m keeping you as far away from the inevitable aftermath as possible. This is my mess. I’m used to dealing with it. It’s nothing new for me. I just have to get through the weekend.”
“Wait—why just the weekend? You mean the game? You’ve been playing so well—that’s going to be great. Don’t worry about that.”
His smile turns bitter. “I really wish that was possible. But I have a feeling it won’t be the case now.”
He holds up a text that came in an hour ago.
Your mom and I are coming to the Wake Forest game. See
you soon.
I wrap Jordan in another smothering hug. It’s the only thing I can think to do. I don’t know how to find any words of comfort because I’m not even sure what’s coming. I just know that in all likelihood, it’s going to be bad.
Jordan predicted all of this.
The devil works fast, but Sasha and Mr. Mitchell work faster.