Page 135 of Keep My Heart


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"Will you get in trouble?" she asks, frowning.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve had to sneak in,” I tell her with more confidence than I actually feel. The biggest game of my life, and I lost track of time with a girl in a bar.

But what a girl.

Looking at her, replaying every moment, every joke, every memory we shared over the last few hours, I can’t regret it.

“Let me at least walk you home.” Curfew or not, there’s no way I’m letting her go alone.

“No. I’m really close.”

This part of the city is completely commercial as far as I can tell, not residential. “Your apartment is nearby? Or are you staying at a hotel?”

Does she live here? Is she visiting? A student? Is she in town for the game? Will she be there tomorrow? Does she want tickets to come see me play? All the things wedidtalk about are suddenly less important than all the things we never said. I don’t even know her damn name. “Gumbo” won’t get me very far after tonight. Panic tightens my body into a drawn bow. Even if it’s never more than what we had tonight—the honesty, humor, ease, empathy— I want to continue with her. I’ll even settle for the dreaded word—friendship.

“I’ll walk you home,” I insist.

“I’ll be fine.” She looks down at the ground and then back at me. The end is in her eyes. I see goodbye, and I want to stop it before it reaches her lips, but I don’t.

“Goodbye, August. Good luck tomorrow.” She turns and starts up the sidewalk.

I want to chase her. To follow and find out where she lives or where she’s staying. Even knowing some lucky bastard found her first, I can’t imagine having no idea how to find her again.

“Hey, wait,” I call after her, forcing my feet not to follow. “You should at least tell me your name. Do you really want me to think of you as Gumbo forever?”

She faces me but keeps walking backward, steadily putting more space between us. Between this night and the rest of our lives. Mischief lights her eyes, and the sly smile playing around her lips makes me think for a terrible moment that she won’t tell me.

“It’s Iris,” she calls back to me. “My name is Iris.”

I stay still, absorbing the sound of her name, absorbing the look on her face as she walks out of my life with as little fanfare as she entered it. Her smile dies off, and she’s staring at me like she wants to remember my face—like she won’t forget tonight either. Like maybe, unreasonably, undeniably, this night meant as much to her as it did to me. If she felt it, too, this connection, she can’t be walking away, but she is. I’ve only known her a few hours. It’s unreasonable that desperation bands my chest and panic shortens my breath, like I’m sprinting.

Except I’m standing still. And she’s still walking.

Walking and turning the corner, out of my sight.

She takes my hope for more with her when she goes.

Iris

Anticipation charges the arena,every breath I draw making my heart race that much faster. I’m sitting in the best seats money didn’t even have to buy at the NCAA Championship, yet the basketball game is the last thing on my mind.

“You’re as nervous as a live lobster in a boiling pot.” Lotus’s words are a splash of cold water across my face. Am I that obvious? I feel obvious, like there’s a huge neon sign flashing over my head. I keep telling myself that nothing happened with August last night. I have nothing to feel guilty about, but guilt gnaws through my rationale.

“It’s a big game for Caleb.” I shrug, hoping it looks more casual than I feel. “Of course I’m nervous for him.”

“I get that,” Lotus says. “But you’re downright agitated. Keep bouncing your knee like that and you’ll cause a quake in here.”

Even after she says it, my knee can’t stop hopping, my foot tapping out an erratic rhythm on the stadium floor.

“Bo, what the hell?” Lotus demands, shortening Gumbo as only she does. She presses her hand to my knee, forcing it still. “Seriously, I know this is a huge night for Caleb, but chill.”

I stare down at the court, searching for my boyfriend in the clusters of players shooting around and warming up for the biggest game of their lives. I didn’t want to distract him before the game by telling him I met August West, but what will I tell him after? A conversation at a bar during a Lakers game is no big deal, but somehow, I know Caleb won’t agree.

“Are you even hearing me?” The concern in Lotus’s dark eyes jars me out of my head.

“Yeah. Sorry.” I finally give her my full attention. “I’ll try to relax.”

She searches my face, and I force myself not to look away. Braids spill over her shoulders and arms. High, slanting cheekbones and a narrow chin lend her face an almost feline quality. She’s slim and emanates strength. I’m not sure if it’s the jut of her jaw, her obstinate chin, or her wise eyes. Or maybe it’s something beneath her skin, built into her bones.