A Sports Romance • Basketball/Soccer/Lacrosse
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Two Neighbor Enemies. One Fake Relationship.
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"I'm sick and tired of pretending. I want us. I want you and me."
"And so what? Do you want to be with me? Because I'm sure tired of being a second choic...
Mauricio turns around and runs his fingers through his hair.
"Before my dad left for rehab, he told me that my grandpa would abuse him when he was younger––and––and...FUCK!" He yells before a sob comes out.
My eyes start to water and I quickly go to hug him from behind.
"Everything was a lie, Malia. My grandpa isn't the hero I thought he was. He's the reason why my dad turned to alcohol. My dad doesn't want me to hate him but everything that has happened these past years is because of what my grandpa did. He was my fucking hero and he––I hated my dad for years and now it feels like such a fucking waste. I wasted years hating the man who only needed to heal from what his dad did to him as a child."
"I couldn't get it out of my head, Malia. I kept having his words repeated in my head and I just wanted it to stop. Hector texted me about a party he was having and I was on autopilot. And now, I am here in your house drunk crying because it hurts. It hurts to fucking know what my dad was put through and how it was by the only person I never thought would be capable of such things."
I sniff and turn him around so I can grab ahold of his face.
"I'm so sorry, Mauricio. I'm so sorry." I brought him into a hug and he started to sob into my neck.
We stood there for what seemed like hours. He sobbed into my neck while I rubbed his back and told him everything was going to be okay.
At some point, we ended up going upstairs to my room.
"I'm sorry about being drunk." He whispers as we lay in my bed.
I shake my head and place a kiss on his forehead, "It's okay...just please next time call me, Mauricio. Don't turn to alcohol. Let's fix it together."
He nods his head and closes his eyes.
It's after a few minutes he finally falls asleep and so do I.
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I've been awake for a while now.
Too afraid to go downstairs and face Malia.
What happened last night was embarrassing and I wish I'd told her another way. But here we are.
My head is pounding and I'm so hungover.
"Fuck this." I groan before getting up from the bed and grabbing the fresh clothes Malia has left for me on her nightstand.
