"You tasted the poison; tell me, is it addictive?"

Chris Omar Vaughn

"AND ONE," Jabari screamed from the floor. He clapped obnoxiously enough to make me roll my eyes as his teammate helped him up.

AJ checked the ball with me and I dribbled down the court, walking to buy time so my team could set up.

Jabari tried defending me but I crossed over and he tripped. Because everyone was busy clowning him for falling, I easily laid the ball up on the left to make the score 89-73 with thirty seconds left. Jabari's team thought they'd come back but I had a better line up this week.

Jabari tripped me as I walked by, looking down at him.

He got up and brought the ball down.

AJ, myself, and the rest of our team didn't bother defending them because time was running out and they couldn't possibly come back.

ERRRR! The buzzer sounded, concluding the just-for-fun game at the complex.

Sweaty, Jabari and I bumped chests.

"Good game, boy," he said, pushing my head in.

Since high school I'd been going back to the sports complex/training gym (fitness center) on the weekends when I could go hoop.

I led my varsity team to the championships every year, won three, lost my junior year.

Game two into my senior year, I made the 1,000 points club. My dad said I was the best power forward since Pau Gasol but he's biased. My favorite player was Kevin Garnett, but I'm bias, too, 'cause I got to meet him once.

Anyway, it was just good to get a hoop session in every once in a while. AJ's some shit, really just there to clown the whole game. He didn't make the team 'til he was in eleventh grade, poor guy. And even then, he rode the bench unless we were blowing the other team out.

"Who got next?!" Jabari's brother yelled, looking around at all the other spectators just standing there.

"Ayeee," some of the guys hollered.

I turned my neck to see who walked into that welcome.

His eyes shot right to me. Fucking Rodney Camper.

"Isn't that Rodney 'Latrell' Camper?" Adriel (AJ) asked me in a whisper to me and Jabari like he was scared.

My lip involuntarily curled up.

"Why do they call him Latrell?" I wondered, wiping sweat from my face, neck, and chest with the soaked t-shirt I had just removed.

Jabari laughed. "Like Terry Crews from White Chicks, 'cause he only like snowbunnies."

"Why. is. he. here?" I grumbled, throwing my shirt in the bag on the bleachers.

"I asked him to play in the tournament," Malcolm said out of no where.

He slapped hands with Jabari and then Adriel's. Lastly, I watched his hand inch towards my body. I stared at it and finally slapped my palm against his.

Ugh. I didn't want to touch him, made me sick just looking at the man who wanted to "have his way" with Morgan.

"Oh, shit, I almost forgot about that. That's coming up, right?" Jabari made sure.

"End of the month, yep. The jerseys I ordered you guys will be in next week. I got sponsors and all."

"So this is, like, a big deal?" AJ asked, starry-eyed.

Malcolm nodded.

"Can I play?!" AJ exclaimed.

We all shifted our eyes to him.

AJ sucked his teeth, turtling in the stands. "I didn't wanna play anyway."

"Yeah, I'm not playing on the same team as him," I scoffed, alluding to Rodney.

Malcolm rubbed his hands. "Age old rivalry, huh? Still won't admit you're the best?"

I shook my head, the corners of my lips pulled down.

"Said I'm overrated and still thinks I cheated in that tenth grade play-off game," I said low, waiting to finish so I could drink from my gallon water jug.

"After me, you're the best player in the state," Jabari commented, tossing the ball in the air.

I let him think that.

Our beef was beyond that, though. I don't know why, but Rodney always hated me since freshman year, game one against his team in the neighboring county. Two minutes into that game he was talking shit, like players do, I didn't think anything of it until he started talking about AJ. The game progressed and every time I scored — dropped twenty-nine that night, by the way— he would be in my ear, push me, or talk more shit. I started clapping back, getting more hype with my celebrations, until he said something about my mom. I don't know, something like "she's a bitch" or "she raised a bitch." Whatever he said got him thrown to the floor. My parents ran off the bleachers to restrain me but my whole team got to me first. Rodney's team was rowdy, trying to argue, but no one was throwing hands. Rodney started throwing chairs and finally they were escorted out so we technically won the game. It was the third quarter by then and we were up 72-45 anyway.

Or maybe it had something to do with what I did to his best friend: David Bowen. But that was years ago and I'm paying for it. . .

Ever since, he makes it a point to shit-talk me online, claim I'm "not good." Pfft.

"Well bring your A-game, he's on the opposing team," Malcolm told me, stalking away to go great Rodney.

I watched Malcolm and Rodney hug and laugh about whatever.
A second later, Rodney clapped and yelled, "yeah," pointing right at me.

"This should be good," AJ said in my ear.

"I fuckin' hate that guy," I snarled, snatching my bag to leave.

***

Malcolm called me over after the gym session. I didn't have time to do much but take a shower and get changed. Dad was pissed because I had to blow him off again to help Malcolm. He had to understand, though, before he came along I was working with him, and I couldn't just bail for father/son bonding all of a sudden.

Besides, I hadn't heard from Morgan all weekend, I was kind of worried. I guess I could've texted her, I just didn't want to seem clingy.

She's probably just shopping or hanging out with Quinn, I thought.

Malcolm finally stopped talking. I say "finally" but I didn't hear a word he said.
I was thinking about his little "darling." Where was she?

"—I gotta take this," Malcolm announced, excusing himself to go through the sliding glass door and answer the call from the backyard.

Sage looked me up and down, which I returned, and then he followed his boss. I don't know his deal, but I can't stand him. Like, his name is Sage, the fuck?

I got up from the desk and wandered around the house.

Having found my way upstairs, I let my curiosity get the best of me.

Morgan's bedroom door was cracked open. I lunged towards it but was stopped by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind my back.

I turned and was actually glad to see it was only Teddy.

"What you doin', bro?" He asked me, quiet.

I dropped my hand from the door. "Where is she?"

"Out with Quinn," he confirmed what I thought.

"Doesn't answer my question, though," he enforced. "What are you doing with this girl?"

I sighed. "I don't need a lecture."

"Right under your uncle's nose, though?"

"Shut the fuck up," I huffed, walking inside the room anyway.

What the?

I was stunned, faced with a nearly empty room. All that was left: a bed.

"I didn't want you to see," Teddy said to me, hand on my shoulder.

I don't know why, but I assumed the worst.

"Where is she, what's all this?" I asked.

"She moved into Malcolm's room," Teddy answered. "said he wouldn't wait anymore."

Oh. I thought she died, or something. But still, the real news wasn't good, either.

I didn't have anything else to say, I just left the room and ultimately, the house.

***

Childish laughter grew louder as I walked around the b&b.

It was Quinn, giggling with her aunt and my father. They were painting the old tool shed. It looked a mess, like a rainbow threw up on it, but they were having fun. Besides, I knew my mom would just go over it later.

Some old Beatles song played from my father's old-school speaker. I laughed, remembering how that speaker and his dated music would wake me up every Sunday growing up and I knew that meant I had to do chores.

"What do you know about this song, Morgan?" Dad teased, splattering green on the side of the shed.

She proudly sung along, shocking my father.

I watched her laugh, flashing her teeth and it hit me how much I actually really appreciated her little gap now.
She was radiant, smile contagious. Her skin glowed under the golden sun that was setting behind their backs.

"Psst."

I whipped my neck to see who was there.

It was my mother at the door. She smiled.

"Come help me in the kitchen?" she asked in a whisper.

*

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Mom talked in my ear.

I turned off the water at the sink and dried my hands, eyes not tearing away from Morgan at the shed.

"Huh?"

Mom giggled, taking a seat at the table. "Morgan. You've washed your hands six times just to stare at her through the window."

She caught me.

I threw the hand towel on the island and went to sit with my mother.

All she could do was smile.

"What?" I laughed, leg shaking under the table.

"Nothing," Mom shrugged, blowing her coffee. "I like her, Dad approves."

"But?" I said, knowing one was coming.

"But she's with Malcolm, that's what your dad said? Is that true, Chris, tell me you wouldn't do that to your uncle."

I stopped my leg movement, growing irritated.

My jaw clenched and only my eyes looked at her, nothing else moved.

"I'm not doing anything with her," I made clear.

Mom looked like she wanted to believe me but couldn't. I didn't care. It's the truth, Morgan and I weren't involved, I told her we can't be. Besides, she moved into his room.

"Oh," my mom squeaked, making me turn to see what she was talking about. "Hey, Morgan."

"Hey," she replied like her bubbly self.

I pulled the toothpick from between my teeth and hung my head for a moment, hoping she'd walk away.

She didn't.

For the next few moments, it was quiet. Mom just looked between Morgan and myself, awkwardly patting her palms on the kitchen table.

"O-K," she popped her gums, standing up. "I'm going to check on The Porters; I heard they're playing strip poker, and no one wants to see that."

Morgan giggled, letting my mom place her hand on her shoulder as she walked out.

Arms crossed over my chest, I held my elbows, slouching in the chair, waiting for Morgan to say or do anything.
It's like she wanted to, but couldn't, the way she darted her blue-green eyes around anxiously and chewed her lip.

Finally, she lunged towards the table and sat in the chair across from mine. I took a second to appreciate how she tucked her red dress under her before doing so.

I swallowed hard when the floral notes of her fragrance wafted my nose, it was inviting, for sure.

"You haven't been around," she started to talk.

I couldn't bring myself to dare to make eye contact, knowing hers would suck me in.

My shoulders just popped, no real answer to give.

She was trying to meet my eyes, but I wouldn't let her.

"You haven't called or texted?" Morgan added, leaning in, her breasts spilling on the top of the table.
I kind of smiled, it was misplaced, but I couldn't help but remember how perfect they were - that damn night on the boat.

Seeing me smile, Morgan must've mistaken that for something else, she put her soft hand on mine. I jerked, taking it under the table.

"I don't have anything to say," I rasped, sitting back. My neck slightly rolled as I watched her react to what I just said.

Her lips parted. I hated that no matter how much I know we can't, I wanted to. Every little thing she did I either found cute or down right sexy.
If I had it my way, and this was a perfect world, I'd flip the table, be on her knees between my legs, her chin between my hand, telling her how I want to violate that pretty mouth of hers.

But I'm reminded of reality when she starts to speak.
And even though I'm distracted by how soothing her girlish voice is, and immediately start to daydream about how I want to hear her scream my name, I caught most of what she said. I think.

"—What did I do?" She asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I blinked, scratching the stubble growing down my neck.

Before I could reply, she raised her voice — only slightly but enough to notice she was serious— and stared me down.
I had to fight off how I liked her sudden dominance but only in this instance would I let that fly.

"Huh? Chris, what did I do to you? Why are you acting like this?"

"You moved in with him," I answered at once, now looking her directly in the eyes.

She relaxed her usually well-maintained posture and covered her mouth with both hands for a second, then fixed her hair.
I read people well, I know body language. On a basic level, anyway. So I know covering the mouth meant because there's something she didn't want to talk about, like she's concealing it. She fixed her hair because she's concerned about how I'm perceiving her right now. That, or just nerves, but she's not usually so anxious with me.

"Yeah, that's the whole reason I'm here," she said. Deflecting. She's deflecting.

"No." I spat, rotating my jaw in annoyance. "In his room."

Her eyelashes fluttered, more than normal.

"I-" she hesitated and then wet her lips. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," I said, standing to go.

Morgan stayed seated but flailed her arms after me.

"That's it?"

"What, Morgan, what do you want from me?!" I growled, standing over the threshold.

She kind of scoffed. "I thought you'd have more to say. You know my situation, it's not that simple. If you want me to leave him, I'll— I don't know, but I'll do something. Just... what are we going to do?"

I took one step and was in her face.

I bent down, leaning over her in the chair, one of my hands on the back of her seat while the other was palm-down on the table.

I inhaled before I said anything, looking between her striking eyes.

"I don't want you to do shit. We don't mean anything to each other, it was just one night. You're with him for whatever fucking reason, fine, stay with him. I'll respect that. But this," I gestured between both our bodies. "stops now."

She blinked slow once.

In a swift, sudden motion, she pushed me in the chest and out of her way to storm out.

With a 'slam' of the door, my mom came back in the kitchen to see me stuck in place, wondering if I really just said that when it's quite the fucking opposite of what I'm thinking.

My mother stalked inside, arms folded in a fit. I knew that look on her face, she was going to say—

"So you lied to me?" She asked.

I knew it.

I let my eyes roll back. Women.

Im getting it from all sides tonight, huh?

"About what?" I grumbled, breathing hard through my nose.

"About you, about Morgan and your uncle? Chris, why didn't you tell me?"

Fed up, I said exactly what was on my mind. This time.

"'Cause who I fuck isn't your business," I argued with my arms and hands.

She looked taken aback. "Watch your mouth! Gosh."

She shook her head. "You know, I'd say that's no way to talk to women and that I raised you better than that, but clearly not. Why'd you say that to her?"

"And eavesdropping, too?" I barked, throwing my arms up after I pushed my weight off the wall.

"Look at what you're doing, how you're talking to the poor girl. If you like her, act on it! Stop being so hard, Chris, you're on the defense and I know you're just doing it to protect yourself. Listen to me: hurt people, hurt people."

Whatever that meant. . .

In walked her husband, confused at the noise.

"What's going on?" He questioned, standing at Mom's side.

She just sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I'm gonna go," I said, snatching my keys off the hook as I turned.

"Honey?" Dad sounded. His way of getting her to open up.

I waited at the front door, out of their sight, to listen.

She better not tell him, I thought in my head because they tell each other everything.

When I heard her little voice go, "nothing," I relaxed and walked through the door.