Page 38 of The History in Us

Levi

“That’s a foul,” I shouted, pushing back aggressively against the sweaty arm holding me off from taking a shot. The older guy barked profanities at me, his face red and slick with sweat. I tucked and rolled around him, releasing the ball as my leg gave out under me. The fitness prosthetic took some getting used to, at first. I wore it for daily runs, but I hadn’t played ball this exuberantly in years. Wayne had been gently encouraging me to come to the gym, but I hadn’t wanted to. I just didn’t want to listen to a bunch of guys bitchin’ about their experiences. I’d come a long way from where I’d been, and while I understood their situations, I couldn’t handle the pain I’d relive by listening to them. I likened it to Alcoholics Anonymous. Some people can’t handle the AA meetings because the sob stories made them want to drink. I was better off alone, but today Wayne insisted.

“Quit being a pussy, and play,” Wayne barked from the bench. He’d been telling me for a year about VetGym and the things the organization did for veterans. I didn’t believe him. When I returned home, there were grand promises of support for assimilation back into society, because life abroad, fighting overseas, was different than going to a job nine-to-five every day. Those promises were broken instantly. I floundered on my own for a while, recklessly rambling the southern Atlantic states before settling on Chicago and earning a college degree. Even that hadn’t been easy at first. Returning to school was a pain in the ass. The schedule, the studies, the girls. I might have dropped out if it weren’t for Wayne and Anne. I wasn’t into the co-ed thing, so I hung my head, went to class, and partied at night with the older set like me. Lot of good that did me.

“Levi, you’re out.” Another guy with two fitness legs went in for me as point guard, a position I’d played in high school and typically in the makeshift courts of the desert. I threw myself on the bench and took a hearty drink of water, squeezing the refreshing liquid in a stream into my parched mouth. Swallowing hard, I turned my head to place the bottle behind me when something, no, someone, caught the corner of my eye. A short-haired brunette, caramel-colored and curvy stood next to a familiar blonde. Their fingers flapped and twisted, before halting to peer back in the gym. Blue eyes found me across the noise of squeaking sneakers and clanging metal.

She smiled weakly and flipped a hand in a subtle wave.

“What the hell?” I turned to Wayne Erickson. “Is that Katie Carter?”

“Appears to be.” Wayne didn’t even turn in her direction.

“Holy shit.” I lifted the hem of my tee and swiped across my forehead.

“Got something against the girl?”

“No,” I snorted, releasing my shirt, my eyes drifting sideways to see her still standing in the doorway, watching the game.

“Don’t mind if she’s against me then, would you?”

“Eew. Shut the fuck up, old man.” Wayne was too old for Katie. Instantly my hackles rose. I’d kick his ass if he tried to touch her.

“Huh. That’s what I thought.” Wayne’s mouth curled and his jaw-clenched with the gum he chomped. His eyes didn’t look at me as he spoke, but followed the stream of men running for the opposite hoop. A man shot and scored, landing on his feet to pump his arms in excitement. Katie and the woman beside her laughed, and the man leaned forward to double high-five each of them.

“Maybe he’ll ask her out.” Wayne spoke while his eyes followed the men returning down the court toward the opposite basket.

“I’d kick his ass,” I growled, watching the man Wayne implied. He looked like a putz. His hair grown-out and curled into one of those man-buns. His arm heavily tattooed with the Marine insignia. I turned back for the door, but Katie was gone.

“Missed your opportunity.”

“What?” I snorted, looking at my professor turned tormentor.

“I think she was waiting for a sign from you, but you didn’t even acknowledge her.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly he was Mr. Romance.

“Gotta wave back when a pretty girl waves at you, or you miss your chance.” What the fuck? I twisted at the waist to see an older man sitting behind me, a much older man, with weathered skin and a twinkle to his liquid-filled eyes. He wore a ball cap with his ship assignment stitched against the navy-blue lapel. “I’d marry that girl myself, if she’d have me.”

“You have a wife, Vic,” Wayne chuckled before he barked directions at one of the players on my team.

“Yes, well, there’s that detail as well,” the old man scoffed behind me. “But she’s not one to pass on. Doesn’t hurt to look, if you know what I mean?” The tease in his tone made me twist again to be met by two thick, white eyebrows dancing over blue eyes. If he wasn’t an old guy, I’d want to throat punch him for being a dirty old man. I knew exactly what he meant about looking, and if he knew the truth of Katie Carter, the feel of her body, cardiac arrest would end his days. I shifted on the bench and stared at the space vacated by Katie. She might cause my heart to kill me, because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That kiss at the museum and her orgasm on me. That kiss in my apartment, letting me take advantage of her in my time of need. I’d done nothing but push her away, while at the same time, pulling her toward me. I’d been the one to call her. I’d been the one to follow. Every turn I took, my past stood there facing me, and while I didn’t want to face it, there was something correct in what the old man said. When a pretty girl waves at you, for the second time, you don’t pass on the chance.

* * *

“Hey.” I’d wandered the corridor of the old school until I found the classroom with Katie inside. She was picking up some books and stacking them on a table when I entered.

“Hi.” She continued to straighten the books before turning to fully look at me.

“So you work here?” I smiled weakly, feeling nervous for some reason. I probably stunk after the game, but I couldn’t leave knowing she was in the same building. I didn’t want to miss my second opportunity.

“I volunteer.” Her short answer surprised me, her tone sharp and quick like her words. Nodding slowly, I sensed talking to her was going to be harder than I thought. We hadn’t spoken directly since I called her to my apartment. My stomach growled, but I ignored my hunger.