Chapter 23 Lewis
It’s been three weeks since I saw Amy Hitman. All it took was a single mess-up—that one time I rolled up to the scrimmage game late was enough to make me want to do better, and so I’ve been throwing myself into practice, putting basketball back where it belongs—at the top of my priority list.
I should be feeling pretty happy with myself—I’m doing what I set out to achieve, after all.
But it’s like I’m under more pressure than ever before.
There’s something niggling at the back of my mind, and I can’t figure out what’s bothering me.
It’s starting to affect my play, too—making me touchy and moody, upping my foul count.
Donovan and his dad keep trying to talk me down, but that’s not helping me get any closer to the root of the problem.
Amy tried calling me once. She didn’t try again.
It took everything I had not to just pick up that phone and hit her number, and it took even more self-control not to jump in my car and go find her.
It’s insane, when I really think about it.
I can’t put my finger on the exact moment she became central to keeping me on track, but that’s what I’m dealing with.
The past few days, I’ve felt myself brushing up against my limits, like I could snap at any given moment.
And more important still, I need to get back to thinking about the Campus Drivers—I’ve been neglecting my mentoring, and I need to remember that Firebird is first and foremost my mentee.
I’m pretty confident the past three weeks have been the palate cleanser I needed, which is why I decided to get back in touch with her this morning. Definitely no ulterior motive.
I spent way too long freaking out ahead of our meetup—running through all my new resolutions, and stuff—and the result is I’m already ten minutes late.
It doesn’t take me long to spot her Pontiac in the parking lot, and when I catch sight of her standing there next to it, my decision to cool off suddenly strikes me as batshit.
Back in the woods that day… All you had to do was keep an eye on the time.
Just seeing her makes my heart race, the same whirlwind of feelings that hits every time we get together.
Shit. I already want her so bad. Deep down, I know I have enough self-control to not let things slip this time.
I need to rein it in. Enjoy myself, sure—but keep a lid on it, too.
And since Amy feels the same, this shouldn’t be too hard.
A sense of calm washes over me, and I’m just about to flash her a grin when I spot the guy she’s with.
My smile fades. Some dude is leaning there against the hood; his arms crossed over his chest as they talk.
Seems like a pretty intense conversation, and I’m hating the way he’s looking at her like he owns her. Who is this asshole?
I speed up and pull in alongside them.
Amy turns to me, watching me for a few seconds, the thrumming of my engine muffling her words.
The guy shoots me a dirty look, and though his mouth moves, I can’t make out what he’s saying.
He leans into her and whispers something in her ear before striding away, and she just stands there staring after him until he disappears out of sight.
She heads over to join me, her jaw clenched.
“Who was that?” The words tumble out, and I wince at how pissy I sound.
She fastens her seat belt, her eyes ice-cold. “Great to see you, too, Conley.”
I pause for a moment. “So? Who is that guy?”
“ ‘Oh my God, Amy! It’s been so long—how you been? Really sorry I’m late!’ ” She glares at me.
“I’m super sorry,” I drawl. “How’s that for you?”
“You’re a real wordsmith, you know that?” She snorts. “No big deal, though—it’s not like you’ve been ghosting me for weeks, or anything.”
As we crawl out of the parking lot, my mind is in overdrive. She really doesn’t want to answer that, does she? There’s no way I’m letting this drop, though—I don’t know why, but something about that guy has rubbed me the wrong way.
“Just some random dude hitting on you, huh?”
“Just a friend.”
“You have friends here?”
“Why the surprise?” she snaps.
“He like drag races, too?”
She rolls her eyes. “Why are you being such an asshole today? I was expecting some kind of heartfelt reunion…”
“Never seen him around campus before,” I continue.
“SHU has a student body of, like, sixty thousand people, Lewis. Maybe you don’t know every single one of them.”
I shrug. “He doesn’t look like a student.”
“Really? What does he look like, then?”
“He looks like the guys who were sniffing around my car back in Brooklyn.”
I sneak a look at her. Got it in one.
“Real observant, aren’t you?”
I’m a basketball player—sizing up the competition is just what we do.
“Okay, so he’s a Brooklyn buddy who came down to visit?”
“Something like that.” She tosses her hair back. “I’ve had a lot of free time lately, you know? So I thought, ‘Hey, why not reconnect with old friends?’ ”
I’m definitely picking up on her sideswipes about my lack of communication, but there’s only one thing I care about right now.
“He like drag races, too?” I try again.
“That’s not his thing. Esteban is more into buying and selling.”
Esteban? The muscles in my jaw twitch. I hate the way his name sounds on her lips.
“He’s a great mechanic, too. My dad…” She falls silent. “My dad taught him a lot.”
“I see how it is—he’s a very good friend of yours.”
And I hate that. I never expected to feel this jealous, but I suddenly want to rip out the steering wheel.
“Something like that,” she says again.
How hard is it to just answer a goddamn question?
“Should I be worried?”
“He came to help RJ out at the shop; they’re working through his backlog. It’s no biggie.”
“I thought that was your job…”
“Sure, but it frees me up for our sessions—or it did, I should say.” She turns to me. “Speaking of which… You planning on doing any actual teaching today?”
“When did he get here?”
“Three weeks ago, maybe.”
Amazing. This guy shows up right when I duck out—unfortunate timing, to say the least.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sorry, Dad.” She laughs. “Why would I tell you? When could I have told you, come to think of it?” She brightens. “Oh, I know! That time I left you a voice message and you never called me back? Yeah, guess I could’ve told you then.”
I cringe. She has a point, and now I’m getting a fuller picture of the situation, I regret going quiet on her. Instead of explaining myself, I decide to double down.
“How long is he sticking around?”
“What is this, a cross-examination?”
“No!”
“Then what is going on with you? Because you’re behaving like a jealous boyfriend.”
She’s looking at me weirdly, and that last comment makes me feel even weirder. I’m not jealous. I just really, really care—that’s all.
“That’s not what this is about.” I shake my head. “It makes sense for me to be worried when one of your old buddies shows up in town.”
Especially when he shows up right when I drop my guard.
She sighs, bouncing a fist on her thigh. “What exactly are you so scared of? You worried that I’m gonna undo all your hard work? That I won’t make the grade?”
Something like that…
It hadn’t even occurred to me that anyone from her old life might wander out this way—especially not anyone with Esteban vibes.
“Thanks so much for believing in me,” she says flatly. “It’s nice to know I’ve earned your trust.”
I don’t like where this conversation is heading, and I know that’s on me, so I try to change tracks.
“Listen, I’m sorry—okay? I’ve been a little stressed these past few weeks.”
“Well, stop taking it out on me. Find some other way to relax.”
I can think of a few. I can feel myself hardening already.
Three weeks of hard-core basketball practice has meant three weeks of zero sex, which takes me right back to my virgin days.
That paired with this Esteban situation is making me want to just pull over and break every resolution I made this morning. Be strong, buddy.
“Okay, time-out.” I take a deep breath in. “Let’s get this lesson going.”
I’m Lewis Conley. I’m in total control of my body and mind.
EVER SINCE THAT LAST TRAINING session, I’ve had no problems trying to avoid Firebird.
My daily schedule is insane—there’s literally no time or space to see her.
Work is piling up like I can’t believe, and with my profs stepping things up, I’m stuck hitting the books harder than I’d like.
Coach is pretty riled up, too—our last two conference games were average at best, and with the tournament looming in March, this is a bad time to be scrabbling around in the dirt for points.
Throw in the rumors that scouts have started going undercover to watch us, and I’ve tripled the amount of practice I’m squeezing in.
Don says I need to take it easy, but I don’t have time for that.
I’ll spend the summer chilling—once I’ve graduated and been signed by the NBA, or once I’ve completely burned out. Whichever happens first.
I’m in the mall shopping for sneakers when I hear a woman calling my name. I turn. Amy’s sister is standing there.
“Raven! How you doing?”
She gestures at her belly, and I smile.
“When are you due?”
“May.”
“Boy or girl?”
“No idea—Charlotte and I want it to be a surprise.”
“Nice.” I nod, glancing over her shoulder. “Amy with you?”
I’ve been missing my mentee and her soothing presence, especially considering how stressed I’ve been. But if I can just hold it together and make sure we win all our final games, I’ll be able to make up for lost time with her in April—without skipping any practice.
“Nope. I’m guessing she’s at the shop.”
“With her new BFF?” I frown, and that seems to surprise her.
“I thought you liked Ronny?”
“Sure. I’m talking about Esteban, though…”
Raven’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry—what?”
Guess that makes two of us in the anti-Esteban fan club.
“Esteban?” she presses. “As in, Brooklyn Esteban?”
“Why do I feel like I just fucked up…”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
A flush blossoms over her cheeks as her lips narrow, and the way she’s looking at me reminds me so much of Firebird.
“I have no idea,” I say helplessly.
Something’s telling me I should keep quiet.
Raven starts panting hard, and I’m suddenly scared she’s about to give birth right here in the mall.
“Should I go get you a chair?”
“Go get me a shotgun.”
“Ravy?” Charlotte’s head pops up over the aisle. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes drift over to me, and she gives me a quick wave before rushing over to her wife.
“Esteban is in town,” Raven gasps.
The two women exchange knowing glances, and I shift on my feet. What is going on? And who even is this guy? Something in Raven’s tone is making me nervous.
“We need to go home. Now.” She tosses the shoes she was holding on the nearest shelf. “I need to speak to my sister.”
I watch as the pair of them stalk out of the store, and I pay for my sneakers, my mind racing as I head back to the car.
I know Raven is super protective of Amy, but still…
The way she acted back there was weird. I’m pretty sharp—when we went to fetch the Dodge back from New York, it was clear Firebird mixes with a lot of random people, and when I saw Esteban standing there with her that day, alarm bells were ringing.
And now they’re getting louder. Fuck. With the game coming up, I can’t afford distractions like this.
Amy’s made so much progress since she moved here, though, I remind myself.
And I know how to rein her in if she starts spinning out of control.
She’s got this. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as I head to the gym.
I’m guessing the butterflies in my stomach are to do with the game.
I always get a little edgy—that’s my normal.
I force myself to focus back on my breathing and the match, repeating over and over to myself that nothing else matters right now.
But it’s not working, and when the buzzer goes off over the court, all I can think about is Amy.
And that’s a problem.