Jess
As soon as they sat down on the bed, Jess started telling Kione about wanting to write in the future. He was aware he hadn’t written anything in a long time, but seeing Layla work on her art for the past couple of weeks and then, seeing her passion for art the day before, seeing how inspired she felt, inspired him as well. He wanted to finally tell his best friend. Jess had no doubt in his mind that he had his support, but he still needed him to say it.
Kione sat quietly, reading what Jess showed him. It was an old project, just to show him an example of something that he’d created. After a few minutes, Kione looked tense, and a little concerned, which was a look only a few people were allowed to see on him.
“I have a question,” he signed and spoke the words out loud.
“Go on.”
“Would you have pursued basketball if I didn’t push you? Because this is obviously your dream.”
Push him was a little too far, and dramatic. Jess was aware of his very misplaced guilt because they talked about it so many times, but Kione was a man that worried a lot about the people he loved, and he needed to be reassured. When they were kids, training for basketball was everything he wanted to do. Jess loved it too, but no one loved it as much as Kione did.
Jess let silence fill the room, only to torture him, his annoying best friend. Then he grabbed Kione’s face and planted an obnoxious, sloppy, wet kiss on his forehead.
“Stop man; I’m being serious! And you need to stop with that disgusting kiss.”
“I love that we play together. I’ve always known we were meant to be on the same team, and just because I have room in my heart to love something else, doesn’t mean I love basketball any less, okay? But I’ve always been honest with you that I don’t want to do this for too long.” He relaxed a bit and then his smile stretched. He had big full lips and blinding perfect teeth, so when he smiled you couldn’t help but smile with him.
“You’re the most talented motherfucker I know, okay?” Kione said, lunging at Jess, which cause them to fall on the floor “I’m proud of you,” he yelled. They were rolling on the floor when the door opened and Mateo walked in.
“It’s not cool to treat me like an outsider in my own home.”
There was a lot of tackling after that. Too many limbs and screaming. In the middle of it, he thought he heard Celia’s distant voice say, “Now I get why you want to leave this place.”
⸻
Layla didn’t come out of her room that night. Then, the next morning, she avoided his eyes.
“Sleep well yesterday?” he asked her. She was ready to go out, packing lipstick and perfume in her mini bag. “I didn’t; I couldn’t find the lavender.”
“It’s right here.” She rolled her eyes and pointed at the huge jar on the counter.
Jess to the audience: Alright, I really didn’t think that one through.
“Well, I couldn’t find it.”
“Mhmm.”
“I have cruel roommates; did you know that? They just leave me here, looking for some lavender tea all on my own.”
“Yes, that must have been traumatic for you.”
“I’m so glad you agree.” She didn’t look him in the eye, she only looked at his hands. He felt an itch rise in his chest.
Hello? Look at me. Look at me, he thought.
He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t stop himself from teasing her, trying to provoke her, and trying to get her to smile. He could handle a crush, he hoped, but he feared it would be a lot deeper than that.
Layla is the kind of person you can easily fall for, he thought.
Layla left to look for a new apartment with Celia. It was a reminder that soon they’d both go back to their own space. Jess burst into Mateo’s room. “I need someone to rebound for me.”
He hadn’t been doing a lot of activities and he avoided going anywhere near basketball courts. It felt a little like he was punishing himself, but every time Jess or Layla tried talking to him, he shut them out.
“I don’t want to.”
“Please” He didn’t know what Mateo saw in his eyes, but it made him get up. This has always been a habit of Jess—whenever he felt disoriented or out of control, he would head to wherever he could play basketball. Usually, it was the indoor court in Kione’s house.
When they get there, Jess noticed how Mateo avoided looking around—how ashamed he looked. He had a little program to help him recover; it focused mostly on improving core strength, breathing exercises, stretching and massaging tight muscles, so he was healing well.
Mateo took the spot under the net, and then passed the ball, nailing it in Jess’s shooter’s pocket.
“Are you getting along with Layla?” he asked, acting all innocent.
“I guess.”
“It looks okay; she hasn’t bitten your head off.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just thought it might be difficult for her to be in close proximity to a stranger, even if you’re my friend and I trust you.” He hesitated. “I do think it would be cool if you guys were friends.”
“Why?”
“When I first met Layla, she was like a scared cat. It was like she’d never had friends before; she never talked about any family besides her sister. She was so easily startled and she had some marks on her face and hand. It took such a long time to get her to trust me and she still would hide some things. I know she talks about how much I’m a pain in the ass sometimes, but she worries me, just as much as I worry her. Maybe she’ll open up to you. If anyone can do it, it’s you.” He looked hopeful.
“What kind of marks?”
“She said a cat scratched her, but it looked like a big scratch. I don’t know, maybe it really was just a big cat. If I asked too much questions, she would get annoyed or just disappear for days.
I want to earn her trust, he thought. He wanted to know everything.
“I was thinking I could stay,” he signed after the shot sank.
“Stay?” Mateo signed back, his brows furrowed.
“You know how Celia and Layla are moving together? I thought we could do the same thing.”
“If you’re doing this because you’re worried about me, I’m fine.”
“It’s not that. It’s nice, you know? Not coming back to an empty place.” I don’t want to be alone either. He didn’t voice that particular thought out loud.
“It is.” Jess liked the apartment; it was in a fancy building, the area was safe, and the doorman was funny—even though they could afford to have their own place, considering the amount of money they both made. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
