Vérité (15 page)

“Mel.” It was more a threat than anything else, but coming from Tiberius, it sort of warmed me in all the right places.

“I got ya, bro,” Jamel hollered back before Trey pulled the car away from the corner and into a parking spot.

I guess they’re really coming.

As we crossed the street, I leaned in and said, “I’m sorry,” to Tiberius.

“Don’t be.” He reached down and squeezed my hand. “I shoulda made my intentions more clear. I’m not looking for a quickie fuck, Rex, and neither are you. Even when you try to throw all that ‘I’m a ho’ garbage in my face. We all make shit mistakes.”

I gulped air, swallowing pollution and exhaust fumes, but was unable to form a response. By the time we reached the door to Lupe’s, Trey and Jamel were hot on our tail.

Trey grabbed the door from behind me and held it open. “Ladies first, Rex.”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe everyone is calling me that. And I thought I didn’t like Tingly.”

“Oh, come on, it’s cute. Our little guy Ty and his toy, Rex,” Trey teased.

I knew he was joking. Coming from Jamel, I wouldn’t be so sure, but Trey was deep down a softie—like Tiberius.

“Come on, I wanna meet your team.” Jamel pushed forward before stopping suddenly, turning his narrowed gaze on me. “Is that fucking prick gonna be here? Logan?”

I shook my head again. “No, he’s on suspension for a fight
he got into
at a party.”

“I told you we shoulda bloodied him up more,” he said—not at all discreetly—to Tiberius.

“Mel, let it go, man.”

We had reached a big table in the back covered in pitchers of lime-green and pink margaritas, chips and salsa, and shots of tequila, where a chorus of “Tingly!” greeted us.

“You made it! Everyone, this is Tiberius.” Nadine came over and slipped under Tiberius’s arm, edging his shoulder over her small frame and smiling up at him.

Geez. Is it the alcohol making her bold? Or is this her normal?

“Great time today,” one of my teammates called out.

“Sit down and grab a drink,” one of the guys shouted.

Grabbing a pitcher of margaritas, I announced, “This is Jamel and Trey. They’re on the basketball team with Tiberius.”

The track team was generally pretty nice and welcoming, and tonight was no different. My teammates slid out of their seats and scrambled, pulling more chairs around the table to make room for my friends. Considered the poor stepchildren of the athletic program, we runners were always happy to be considered athletes by the big-revenue sports players.

Nadine was still bopping up and down on her feet, her tiny little boobs jiggling with every jump. “Do you want something, Tiberius?” she asked, but his teammates interrupted.

“You want a beer, man?” Jamel asked. He slipped his arm around Tiberius and tugged him away from Nadine, steering him toward where I’d relocated.

Trey gave me a chin lift and said, “I’m gonna grab a few drinks from the bar. Ones that ain’t so girly. You want anything else?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

Leaning close, Jamel whispered in my ear. “Don’t let your friend get up on your man, girl.”

Surprised, I gaped up at him. Just when I thought he didn’t like me, he went all big-brother on me.

“’Kay,” I whispered back.

“I’m gonna go meet some of these bitches. Behave yourself, Ty,” he said through a laugh, then swaggered off toward the other side of the table.

Tiberius wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his side. “This okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded and took a sip of my margarita. When I peered over my glass to see Nadine looking inquisitively at the two of us, she mouthed, “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’re pretty fast, girl,” Tiberius said in a low voice, breaking the awkward silence.

I smiled. It was odd how everything was okay with us. I’d basically accused him of being an epic dick, and then he came and watched my meet before joining the whole team for Mexican.

“Well, that’s the point,” I joked.

“Yeah, I pretty much got that,” he quipped back.

A comfortable easiness seemed to settle over the two of us. I didn’t get it, but I couldn’t resist it either. I reached over and grabbed a chip and plunked it into some salsa. The salty flavor burst into my mouth and tasted amazing after how many calories I burned today. I ran my tongue along my lips, catching any remaining salt, and Tiberius followed its path with his eyes, not missing a single movement. His baby blues darkened, and I caught my reflection in them. I was starved . . . and not for food.

“Here, man,” Trey interrupted, handing Tiberius his beer, but he didn’t stay. With no further words, he sauntered down toward Jamel and what was now a huge group of girls. Not just track people, but also sorority girls from across the room and a few unaffiliated alternative types from over at the bar. They were hanging on every word that came from Jamel’s mouth, and were equally as awed when Trey approached.

“Good to see Jamel is being loyal to his girl at home and the one here,” I said somewhat sarcastically.

“He’s no pope,” Tiberius answered.

“Obviously.”

“Told you when we first met, the team was fast. I’m not, but I don’t judge. They’re all I got, ’specially now that my mom is gone.”

It was an opportunity for me to say he had me, but I didn’t. I swallowed my intended proclamation with a big gulp and sipped my drink. Needing something to do, I grabbed another chip, this one loaded with guacamole, and continued to battle the urge to tell Tiberius he could count on me too.

Studying me intently, he said, “You don’t have to say anything. I see your thoughts running through your mind. He’s a player, and I’m not. Judging does no one any good. That’s why I’m not judging you, other than by how you make me feel. Which is good,” he explained, jarring my thoughts, forcing them to dig deeper into my mind. And soul.

Glancing toward the window, I noticed the sun was down, daylight now just a memory like our fight from earlier in the week. Lupe’s dimmed the lights a bit and turned up the music, the restaurant slipping from happy hour into full-on party time. Some college grunge came through the speakers, and I swayed to the beat.

“These tunes are shit,” Tiberius said, his hand on my hip.

I laughed. “You don’t like the music?”

“Nah. This is crap. Not even a fucking beat . . . but I do like your dancing.” His voice was somewhat hoarse, made scratchy by what I hoped was need.
For me
.

“I kind of like it,” I teased him. “The music.”

He gave me a mock glare. “Stop it, I know you’re kidding. You could
not
even talk to me if you liked this shit.”

“Well, what would you rather they play?”

“Taylor Swift.”

I burst out laughing so hard I spilled my drink across the table, causing a commotion and everyone’s attention to turn toward us.

“What you do, Tiberius?” Jamel yelled across the room.

“He wants to hear some Taylor Swift,” I yelled back, practically doubled over in fits of laughter.

“Bro, I told you to date the skinny white chick, but you don’t have to like that music . . . shit she likes,” came hurled from the other side of the room.

Tiberius broke into a huge smile, his dimple coming out. It was such a contradiction to his daunting stature, but I loved it.

“Nah, man. She’s busting balls,” he hollered back. “Let’s blow this joint and go somewhere else. Tingly wants to dance.”

“I’m in,” was shouted all around. Everyone started throwing bills on the table, then Jamel led the crowd out of Lupe’s and gave instructions as to where we should go.

“I think I’m still gonna go to the party on College,” Nadine said, and one of the other girls offered to go with her.

“Okay, ’bye. Have fun!” I said while hurrying off with my hand inside Tiberius’s.

As many as we could fit piled into Trey’s SUV; the others walked toward the address. It was an apartment right off campus. Apparently, one of the grad students who coached the team was having a party. The car was vibrating, rap tearing through the air as we drove the short distance.

It was such a different experience from the last time I rode in the SUV. I sat next to Tiberius, my thigh rubbing up against his, and I considered taking Tiberius home and not going to the party at all. But I wanted more than just the physical.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I pulled it out. I had two texts from Ginny and a voice mail from my parents. I deleted the voice mail without listening to it, and opened up the texts.

GINNY
: How was the meet? You going out?

GINNY
: Hello? You okay?

ME
: Yeah, all good. Went to Lupe’s with team. Now met up with Tiberius and his teammates. You?

GINNY
: I was worried about you. I’m heading to party on College with Bryce. Where you going?

ME
: Somewhere off campus, basketball thing.

GINNY
: Oh, you’ll see Chey and Stacy.

I didn’t even think about our roommates and that they may be at this basketball party. I hardly ever saw them at home. They were nice and all, but hadn’t invited me to any of their events. I worried they wouldn’t want me there.

ME
: Shit. I forgot. You think they’ll be mad?

GINNY
: Too bad.

ME
: Who is this? And what have you done with Ginny?

GINNY
: LOL. Go have fun.

ME
: You too.

The car came to a stop in front of a small apartment building, the top floor all lit up. We exited the SUV like a bunch of clowns getting out of a Mini Cooper. The basketball guys unfolded their long legs and the track girls, all limbs, stretched themselves out of the vehicle.

Jamel tossed his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the main entrance. “I’m just starting to like you, girl, but you get my boy hooked on Taylor Swift and we’re done. You got me?”

Giggles rocked through my body.

Apparently, Tiberius was over the joke or Jamel having his arm on me because he simply said, “Enough.”

I slipped away from Mel and walked side by side with Tiberius. I didn’t get his inexperience—he was all man in his actions, protective and sensual in everything he did. But I didn’t want to bring up the discrepancy between the two of us again. Plus I felt good; the margarita was taking effect. My body felt loose and pliant, and my heart pounded with excitement, which it hadn’t done in a long time.

Once Trey pressed some buttons on the intercom, we were buzzed in to the building. He led the way up a few flights of stairs to the top floor. Music bled through the walls and out into the hallway, the walls shaking to the bass, and my heart now kept pace with the beat.

Trey rapped on the door with his fist, and it opened a crack. He mumbled something to the guy through the sliver before the door opened wide, revealing a large room with the furniture all moved off to the sides, a strobe light flickering purple and blue dots all around the space, and a DJ off to the side. A full bar was laid out on the kitchen counter. Amber-hued bottles lined the shelf, and a keg rested against the wall.

Trey and Jamel led the pack through the room, fist-bumping everyone in their path. Tiberius followed suit, touching his fist and yelling, “
Wassup
?” to everyone he came into contact with. Everyone knew him; for a freshman, he was obviously connected. “This is Tingly,” he yelled over the music. I met so many people, I couldn’t possibly remember their names.

We strolled toward the bar, where Tiberius grabbed a beer and asked, “What do you want?” His deep voice carried over the music.

“Rum and Diet Coke,” I yelled back.

He whispered my order to a shorter dude manning the alcohol, and we watched as he mixed it up. “Junior manager,” Tiberius explained, tilting his head toward the guy. “Keeps us out of trouble. He knows the team’s gonna party, so he makes sure we stay in line.”

We stood off to the side, drinking our drinks, Ty’s arm linked on my waist. If I was honest, I’d never really done this whole PDA thing. High school was all about sneaking around bedrooms in Beverly Hills mansions—or boardrooms, in my case—and college started out rough. It’s not like you flaunt having an affair with a professor.

The music was good. The DJ was jamming, spinning a vibe that ran through the floorboards all the way to my chest. It was pulsing deep in my rib cage, and my hips started to sway of their own volition.

Tiberius slipped the glass from my hand with ease and set it on the ledge with his empty bottle before pulling me close. His leg moved in between mine, and his pelvis ground against me.

As his head bopped with the beat, our bodies entwined and moving in time with the groove, I slid my hand around his back and into his jeans pockets. If I didn’t hold on, I was going to fall. My heart rate was too fast, my head too clouded—with lust, not alcohol—and my brain was swimming with thoughts of Tiberius.

“Who is this?” I yelled over the music.

“Rick Ross,” Tiberius yelled back, then he got serious. “I like this.” His breath brushed my face and neck, leaving chills in its wake. “Like it a lot, Rex.”

He smelled like beer and a good kind of man sweat, and his moves were outrageous. I’d never danced like this before. It felt totally illicit, nothing like when the girls and I back in high school used to tear it up in the middle of a house party. Tiberius and I were making love with our clothes on, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like when we actually did it.

I was afraid to speak, so I just pressed myself closer, my pelvis seeking contact with Tiberius.

“Don’t rush it,” he whispered in my ear. “This. I plan to take my time with you, Tingly. In everything I do.”

His words had me wound up, my pulse soaring, faster than earlier at the meet. Why did we have to go so slow?

The song ended, and we grudgingly broke apart when Jamel appeared.

Tiberius gave him a chin lift. “What’s up, bro? You good?”

I grabbed my drink from the ledge and took a swig as Jamel said, “Looking hot, Tingly. You got moves.”