Page 44 of Full Court Love

Lucy:

Yes. Are you?

Now it’s my turn to take a while to reply. Of course I’m okay doing this with her. I’m more than okay with it. Being around Lucy is like being around the sun. It makes me feel warm and potentially want to start removing clothes.

But I can’t open Pandora’s box. Once my dad knows that a new car is on the table, he will be like gum on my shoe–if gum was a life ruiner and not just a footwear ruiner.

Me:

You know what caused me to transfer. I can’t

risk that happening again.

Me:

And I definitely can’t risk ruining anything for

you.

Lucy:

I’m a big girl, remember? I can take care of

myself.

Me:

But there shouldn’t be anything to take care of

in the first place.

Me:

Also, I want to take care of you.

I mean it. I want to spend every waking moment protecting this girl. And just being with her. Time with her makes me feel lighter. It seems like she feels the same way, considering how tightly she physically clings to me when we’re together. She always has one point of contact–a hand, her head, even a foot.

Most times there are multiple, and I’m not complaining for a second.

Behind the competitive beast, perfect student, and polished persona, there’s the sweet and adorable Lucy who rants about the integrity of movies staying true to books and how sad it is that Pluto lost its planet status. There’s also the vulnerable Lucy who cries when she randomly experiences a wave of grief over missing her dad or when watching commercials about grandparents getting their house ready for the holidays.

Speaking of the holidays, they’re looming ever closer, and I can only hold Lucy off for so long. I can’t afford to fly home for the two days we have off from workouts, and even though spending Christmas alone is the norm for me, Lucy won’t stand for it.

She lives an hour away from Maverick City, in East Platte. Apparently her mom is insisting I come back and celebrate Christmas with the two of them and Lucy’s grandparents. It feels like a lot, very soon. And I’m not exactly the boy next door.

I’m the problem next door.

I’m the guy dads tell their daughters to steer clear of.

There’s a reason I’ve never celebrated a holiday like this. For me, Christmas was always just the time of year when it got cold and other people talked about everything Santa got them. They decorated and went on vacations and had big family gatherings.

My mom usually worked on Christmas because she made more money on holidays, and my dad would pass out drunk at home or at a bar down the street. I would usually watch basketball all day and then my mom and I would watch a Christmas movie when she got home. Our favorites wereIt’s a Wonderful LifeandHome Alone. I probably related to that one a little too much.

Usually we had a little tree that she and I decorated with homemade ornaments. We’d string popcorn and hang candy canes, and my favorite Christmases were the ones when my dad joined in. That stopped a long time ago.

Lucy has a family that loves being together, and I’ve heard many stories of cherished memories from Christmases with her dad. Even now, her dad’s parents come to celebrate with her and her mom, as well as her mom’s parents. I visualize it looking like every happy ending in every legendary holiday movie.

I’ve accepted that I won’t ever have that.