Loveball

Walking towards our meeting place, I thought my head would explode. Whether it was high blood pressure, exhaustion, the change of air… I wanted to get rid of the throbbing pain in my temples as quickly as possible. Now I regretted going to a concert instead of going straight home.

Entering the smoky room, I mentally scolded myself even more – I could have guessed my friends were playing heavy rock. And, as if to spite me, my phone had died, so I couldn't locate the rest. I really didn't feel like listening to a series of identical songs, but I finally forced myself to stay in my seat.

I didn't feel strange… well, maybe a little – everyone was dressed in black, the guys had long hair, the girls had black makeup, and everyone was obligatory in combat boots. I, the only one, stood out with my rather bright outfit, colorful bag, and a few other details. That's why everyone was staring at me. I couldn't even begin to interpret those glances – envious from the girls and curious from the guys. I stood so I could see clearly and avoid being crushed by the others' wild dancing.

It began. Sharp sounds pierced my poor head, and my blood began to pump twice as hard as before. I staggered slightly, placing my hand to my forehead and closing my eyes. I leaned on someone standing behind me. Luckily, in this crowd, everyone kept brushing and bumping into each other. I smelled masculine perfume. And perfectly sculpted abs.

I stopped thinking about the pain and started picturing the guy standing behind me. Probably with long, dark hair, in black clothes, maybe glasses. He couldn't be much taller than me, and he wasn't jumping around like the others, but that didn't mean anything. He had a fantastic stomach… I could feel the muscles through my clothes – so they must have been incredible in all their glory.

The concert was coming to an end, and one of the encore songs, the last one, was slowly fading away. And I had to get a better look at this guy… I just didn't have any concrete plan, and the headache wasn't helping me come up with one. So I had to accept that I probably wouldn't see him again, and besides, I'd probably forget about him in a few days.

Suddenly, I heard my name from the back of the room, turned around, and spotted the group of friends I'd arranged to meet there. I also happened to see my neighbor. And I froze…

He wasn't a metalhead.

He wasn't wearing black, combat boots, or waist-length hair.

He looked exactly like my friends from the club – Nikes, looser pants, and longer hair. He was wearing a snowboarding jacket, and on his hat were badges she also recognized from the slopes.

Before I could react (i.e., smile disarmingly and say something noncommittal), my group had woken up to me and, after greeting me first, looked expectantly at the boy.

"Ivy, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend...?" someone finally asked, more daring. All eyes, including mine, turned to the mysterious guest, who smiled brightly and, shaking everyone's hand, said,

"Szymon." He passed me by, implying that I would decide how to explain this myself. It was a bad choice, because I'm not one to be dictated to by rules, and I decided to make my own. Or rather, to take on this ridiculous challenge.

"You didn't say you were coming with someone... I mean, not that it bothers me or anything... it's just...

" "We just happened to meet here," I replied confidently.

"Well, let's go to the table, order something to drink, and we'll chat there..."

The whole group, which suddenly turned out to be quite large, found themselves in a quieter room, everyone sitting at a table with their own drink. Initially, I was distracted by my friends from the group; after all, I came here because of them. And the whole situation had to seem relatively natural, so only after a while, when everyone was immersed in other conversations, could I calmly meet Szymon.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, but you wanted...

" "Oh, come on! I thought it might be interesting..." he winked at her in a friendly way. "Your name is...

" "...Iwona, but they call me Ivy, it's faster and... more original." And that's how the conversation went.

We got to talking—the same interests, the same clubs, the same sports, the same favorite movies and books, the same music, mutual friends... it got late, he walked me home, kissed me on the cheek, and... left.

He only forgot one detail. Or, as it looked to me, he deliberately didn't take my number. He didn't want to see me again.

Oh well. On the one hand, it was his loss, but on the other, I could still feel that six-pack on his back...

A few weeks later, as we always do on sunny, free days, we all gathered and went to play basketball at a nearby court. The heat was unbelievable, but the promised pool provided by the losing team was a real boost. Breathing deeply, I doused myself with water from a bottle, generally not caring if my hair got ruined or my shirt got wet—it was incredibly hot. And I genuinely admired the guys skating on the ramp right next to the court.

I closed my eyes to finally catch my breath. I could hear voices, the commotion on the pitch, but I didn't care much now – my team was winning, by a significant margin, so I guess I'll save up some pocket money today. And that thought made me even happier – we were saving up for a big trip to Amsterdam together, and my job as a waitress at a crummy diner wasn't exactly in my budget. Thanks to today's money, I'd be able to quit a day early.

"Ivy, are you okay?" I heard, and I opened my eyes. In front of me, besides Miśka, my teammate, were those guys with their boards.

"Sorry, what for?" I asked absentmindedly, trying to remember where I knew one of them from.

"My friends from elementary school would like to play with us… I'm asking, is that okay?"

"Sure…" I replied, standing up. Only when Miśka was introducing the five guys to me did I remember the incident from the concert and connect the name with its owner. I noticed a knowing look in his eyes, so I picked up the game and pretended we didn't know each other.

They might not have played too badly, but they could always have tried harder. Especially once they knew what was at stake.

"Because of...you...we're...a draw..." I gasped at Szymon as we both stepped off the field.

"You should be glad we're helping you, because you wouldn't have been able to cope on your own..." he said, winking slightly at me and handing me the water. I narrowed my eyes menacingly. "He won't push me, you little brat!"

"You should be glad you joined the whole team. You wouldn't stand a chance against me alone.

" "Of course. I have no doubt about that." His ironic tone really pissed me off.

"Want to find out...?" I narrowed my eyes angrily

. "I do.

" "Where and when...?

! I'll tell you when the time is right." "Oh no. He was in charge. He was winning. No way. I won't let him." "Don't get so mad." I just prefer to do it with… hmm… surprise.

“Okay. Whatever you want. I’m better anyway.”

The pool, which we all went to together later, was the best thing ever invented. Cool water, blazing sun right after getting out, and the proximity of a small beer shop were all the team needed that Sunday afternoon.

Plus, I could gaze without fear or remorse at Szymon, whose abs, as I’d expected from the start, were the best-defined man abs I’d ever seen.

A few days later, I spent a long time watching TV. My parents were out somewhere, and I didn’t feel like throwing a big party today or cleaning up in the morning. Maybe tomorrow…?

Glancing at the clock, I registered 1 a.m. A quick shower and off to bed.

But I wasn’t meant to be… My phone started ringing as soon as I turned off the light in my room.

"Don't go to bed yet, little one. I think it's a good time to see if you were right." My first instinct was to hang up. He's a cheeky guy, calling in the middle of the night and wanting me to go play basketball with him... but on the other hand, I was very tempted to show him how much he still needs to learn.

"Where and how much do you want to meet?" I tried to speak in a normal, sleep-free voice.

"At your gate, as soon as possible, because it's a bit windy and I think it's about to start raining." He could have stopped saying that. I felt even less eager to get out of my warm bed.

"I see that if I'd called earlier, I would have found you in the shower. Blind luck." He looked at my wet hair. And only now did I notice his brown eyes.

We walked in complete silence.

A streetlight was on near the court, illuminating at least part of it. I stood in the middle of the court, holding the ball in my hands.

"Shall we just start playing...? Without any conversation...? Warm-ups?" I didn't want to think about interpreting that tone, I simply threw the ball.

A few quick moves and I scored my first points. Initially, I had the advantage, but later the gap evened out. I don't know if he'd been giving me a head start or if he really needed a little warm-up – he was good. Better than last time. And then there was that twinkle in his eyes, the agile movements of his hands… I couldn't concentrate on the game.

I lost focus, and while trying to execute a perfect two-stroke, I bumped into him. Or rather, he bumped into me. I quickly tossed the ball behind my back and held it there, his hands resting on it as well. There was only a millimeter between us. Although at the time, it seemed like an unbridgeable chasm.

He looked straight into my eyes. A few stray strands of blond hair fell across his damp forehead. He smiled faintly… I couldn't resist the urge to kiss him, but a more cunning plan formed in my mind. Because only one thing could be more pleasant than this… I tilted my head slightly, moistened my lips, and gazed lustfully into his eyes. When he began to lean toward me, and his hands slid from the ball to my hips, I quickly wriggled away from him and scored more points. At that moment, the stopwatch signaled that the game was over.

Oh yes… winning was much better than being among the large group of girls he'd won (because that's probably how he thought of me – as just another conquest).

I walked to the bench, put on my sweatshirt, took the ball, and turned to say goodbye.

Szymon stood in the same place as before, hands in his pockets, a busted elbow, and a face expressing no emotion.

"Thanks," I approached after a moment's hesitation, extending my hand to him. "You're really good." We shook hands.

I left him in the middle of the court, walking away slowly.

I didn't want him to see the triumphant smile on my face – I suspected he felt foolish enough.

"Oh, right… my parents won't be here tomorrow, I think I'll throw a little party. If you want, come with your friends…" I said, but there was no one else on the field or anywhere in sight. "…'small'…" I repeated, and smiled to myself. As usual.

"So I don't want to know what a big one looks like," I heard his voice behind me. I looked around: about 40 people were dancing, eating, drinking, and chatting in my small apartment. And every now and then, someone new would come in, someone asking if their friends could drop by… as always happens at my parties.

"Hi. Get settled, I have to… find a phone and call my folks… so they don't worry I'm having a party…" As I said, I rummaged through the armchair, which was littered with sweatshirts and shirts from the guests. He surprised me with his arrival; I was expecting some sort of major sulk, a look of resentment, a break in communication… which, by the way, hadn't really existed until then. And yet…

I finally managed to find the phone. I locked myself in my room with it. I told my parents about my "rough day" and told them I was going to bed early. Of course, they didn't believe me. Especially since someone had entered the room and the noise from the living room had filtered into it.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were talking to your parents. They told me there was a computer here…

" "It's okay, they're used to it, besides, the neighbor has probably called them five times already. Usually, this room is closed, but I'll make an exception for you…" I turned on my PC and left him alone. I hoped he knew as much about computers as he knew about basketball.

Forty people turned into about sixty. Everyone was shouting, singing, and dancing to the loud music. Luckily, I only had one neighbor, who, as it turned out, was on vacation with her husband, leaving only the children at home. As a result, they also came to party and brought their friends. I loved these house parties! Even the thought of cleaning up wasn't so daunting, because a bunch of people were staying overnight anyway – they'd have to help me.

Another glass of "hosting" and I was ready to tear the house down myself, just to get the music a little louder. My ex-boyfriend seemed to have forgotten about our breakup again; he was constantly hanging around me, everyone wanting something, everyone calling for her to have a drink with him… no… I just wanted to dance!

Damian (my ex) wouldn't leave me alone, so I nimbly hid in my room when he wasn't looking.

I'd forgotten I'd left Szymon there earlier.

"Are you still here…?" I asked, sighing loudly and sitting on the bed.

"If it bothers you, I can leave. I just found some interesting websites…" I stood behind him and looked over his shoulder.

- Did you come to the party to look at websites?

"Well... no, I just wanted to check the latest match results, but I noticed a few interesting items in my favorites." Only now did I realize he was talking about our trip around the Netherlands. I chuckled to myself. "What's so funny...?" he asked, turning to me.

"Nothing... but if you'd like to come with us, I'm telling you right now that we're forced to postpone our Eurotrip until another time. Our driver totaled the car, and now we have no car or anyone to go with.

" "Don't tell me he..." Szymon's face said it all.

"Oh, come on! Nothing happened to him, but he was drinking earlier, so they took his license away. Even if they hadn't, none of us would have trusted him anyway.

" "Hmm... really, bad luck.

" "It worked out very well for me... that means it happened now, and not somewhere else. But it's a shame about those plans..." The rhythm of one of the newer songs drifted from the living room. "Oh, yeah! I have to dance to that..." – I flew out of the room and played LL Colo J'ja as loud as I could.

...The club was far from empty

It was crowded at the entry (Woo!)

I slide right through like how I do

This girl began to tempt me (Uh-huh!)

She said her name Shayeeda

I could tell her mama feed her (Yeah!)

When they tight and thick them jeans don't fit

I'm L, nice to meet ya (Uh-oh!)

I could feel my body yearning

The room just started turning

Didn't want to go out on the floor

but this girl was so determined

My brain began to sizzle

I'm sweatin' just a little

On the dance floor in the middle

She turned around and giggle

She said...

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Szymon entering the room, standing with his friends and... staring at me.

(...)

It's hard to control myself (Aww!)

It's hard to control myself

You got, you got, you got

What it takes to make this boy be bad (Be bad)

The alcohol finally started to do its job, slowly heading towards the Main Goal. I approached each of my friends dancing on the dance floor, keeping eye contact with Szymon all the time.

(...)

Temptation is a mother

How we lust for one another (Yeah)

We barely know each other

Yet we're waddling like we're lovers

The air is full of passion

The strobe lights are flashin'

The hustlers throw cashin'

The bartender keeps splashin'

Her moves were so erotic

Her gaze was so hypnotic

I begged this girl to stop it

But she continued to pop it

His friends seemed to have noticed the whole situation, so they stopped talking, just watched with rude smiles as events unfolded. I ignored them... I reached for him, grabbed him by the shirt, and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor.

You know, I know you like it.

Let me hit you on your Sidekick.

Because the afterparty is at my body.

Meet me, you're invited

(...).

As he danced beside me, I realized he probably had no flaws. He did everything perfectly, one of the few people who could match his movements to mine and start leading. Maybe it was a coincidence that he had a great sense of rhythm. I could have danced like that all night.

"This is exactly the kind of party I imagined when you bumped into me at the concert..." he said, as I leaned my back against his chest. My hips moved to the music and the movement of his hands.

A calmer melody flowed from the speakers. I stopped moving, felt his hand on mine...

"Can I please...?" "—he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I had no choice but to give in.

It felt so good. His scent was everywhere, just like it had been after our nightly match, even after I'd taken another shower. I never knew if it was the amount of perfume a guy wore, or if a woman's senses were so heightened to a certain scent when she started falling in love...

Oh my! What did I say? "Falling in love"? No... not with him!!!

My desperately pathetic thoughts were interrupted by a violent jerk. I opened my eyes and couldn't believe what I was seeing: Damian was standing next to us, glaring at Szymon with a furious expression.

"Leave her alone, she's my girlfriend..." he growled at him.

"You must be mistaken, we broke up three months ago!" I said furiously, and resumed the interrupted dance. But Damian wouldn't give up. He nudged Szymon again, this time much harder.

"I told you to leave her alone..." Szymon looked at me, a little questioningly, a little sadly.

"Even if she were still your girlfriend..." he said calmly, but I saw his muscles tense and his fists clenched. I knew right then that this wouldn't end well... "...we're not doing anything to make you jealous. It's just a dance..." but he didn't finish because Damian punched him in the face with all his might.

"And that's just a right hook.

" "You're acting like a child! Get out of here!" I snapped at my ex, looking at a furious Szymon wiping a trickle of blood from his nose.

"Stand back, you stupid bitch..." With that, he pushed me away, about to punch me again, but Szymon was faster. Honestly, if it weren't for him, I would have punched that asshole myself...!

Within moments, Damian and his friend were out the door, with a lifetime restraining order against me. I was certain the next morning would be filled with apologetic and excusing texts.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way...

" "Are you crazy? He started it himself... you had no control over it. Guys sometimes get like that when they're drunk. And besides, I don't blame him for being jealous..." Szymon said as I tried to stop his nosebleed.

"Are you staying, or should I call you a taxi..." The question surprised him as much as it did me. He looked me straight in the eye. I'd simply forgotten that he wasn't one of my friends (this kind of thing happened very often with them, which is why I was so skilled at dressing wounds), that I hadn't known him for several years, and (most importantly!) I didn't consider him a friend. But there was no turning back.

"Hmmm... a tempting offer...

" "Sorry... that... well... sounded... but... my friends... I mean, I... often... never mind." I gave up on continuing this humiliating explanation.

"If you want me to stay, I'll stay. But if you don't care, you'd better call a taxi..." His words barely registered. He had such beautiful eyes. Soft hair, wonderful hands... lips...

"I mean..." "So now it's my turn to decide..." I felt satisfied once again because of him. "My parents are gone and their room is free, so if you want to go to bed, it's really no problem. Personally, I prefer to sleep in my own bed, which is why I rarely stay overnight.

" "Then maybe I actually go home..." When he stood up, too abruptly, of course, blood started flowing from his nose again, and he swayed slightly.

"...then maybe you should really stay," I decided, placing the ice pack back on his forehead.

Around 6 a.m., I could go to bed with a clear conscience. This time, no one had damaged anything in the house; trusted friends were sleeping in the living room with their girlfriends, all of them thankfully relatively sober. I'd gathered the bottles and empty food wrappers in one place so that in the morning, all I had to do was gather them into a bag and take them out. Someone would clean the garden, and the rest would mop the floors, and that would be the end of the cleaning. Apart from washing the dishes, of course...

After a quick shower, I decided to check if Szymon had fallen asleep. I'd tucked him in three hours earlier, so he was certainly sound asleep, but I still needed to see him again.

I slipped into my parents' bedroom, walked around the bed, and adjusted the covers as they slipped off his nearly naked (gorgeous!) body – after all, he was only wearing boxers.

I stared at his closed eyes for a moment and heard his steady breathing.

Finally, I turned and started to leave, but... he grabbed my hand.

"Thanks. For everything," he slowly opened his eyes and smiled.

"No problem. Do you need anything?" He shook his head. "Then go to sleep, I'm going to bed too." I smiled back. He closed his eyes and released me.

I went to the door, but somehow I couldn't get out of that room.

I grabbed the doorknob and locked it tightly from the inside.

I went back to the bed, lifted the covers, which woke him, and lay down next to him. I could only imagine him smiling—he wrapped his arms around me and snuggled against my back. We fell asleep really quickly.

My parents returned that evening. They hadn't expected it to be so tidy. Me neither, but my friends had made sure of it. Maybe because in a few days I'd have a free house again and another party planned.

When I woke up, Szymon was gone. He'd left a message saying he was rushing to work. Sure. Like always. Like everyone else. At least I didn't have a moral hangover, because we only slept in the same bed. However, I didn't expect to ever see him again.

Of course, just as I thought, he didn't reply. Okay, he sent one text saying he had to go away for a few days, but as soon as he got back, we'd see each other. Of course. He'd probably remember me in a few years, when no one else would want to know him.

I went to the field to practice throwing shots. And to vent my anger, because I had an excess of aggression inside me.

I didn't notice it getting dark and I was alone in the park. I wasn't afraid... almost. I heard footsteps, but I decided ignorance would be the best solution. Of course, that made me even more afraid, especially as the sound started getting closer. I turned around and saw Szymon. At that moment, ignorance was the ONLY thing he deserved.

"You have a problem with your left knee. Practice that," he said. I didn't react. Why had he even come here? He could have pretended not to see me. "I don't remember any other weaknesses." Nothing again. I hit a 3-pointer. "Do you mind if I join you?" – Of course, he didn't wait for an answer. Stubborn ass... He hadn't managed to get the ball for a full 10 minutes. "I really had to leave. I know how it can look... but believe me, I'm not running away... My job requires me to leave..." I felt my anger growing, which was probably why I was playing more and more aggressively. Suddenly, he bumped into me, and I couldn't keep my balance. I fell backward, clutching the ball tightly. It hadn't occurred to me that a sprained wrist was less dangerous than a fractured skull. I just closed my eyes, as if that would lessen the pain of the fall.

But instead of concrete under my head, I felt something soft. I mean, softer than concrete. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Szymon's face just above mine. I realized I'd fallen on his hand, which he had deliberately... no... I didn't understand anything anymore... he should have snatched the ball from me and seized the opportunity...

"Ivy, I really HAD to go then. And I really did call you today to arrange a little basketball tournament, but you didn't answer..." "Damn! I believed him... damn it! He charmed me with those eyes, those expressions, those words... but no... the game wasn't over yet..." I quickly got up and scored more points. But I didn't hear his footsteps. Finally, I turned around. He was sitting on the ground, where we had just been. Blood was dripping from his elbow. Because of me.

I pretended it didn't bother me at all and went back to my interrupted practice.

"If you really don't want to talk to me... then I'll go. But if you change your mind, call me." "Enough of this pathetic scene on my part. Come on, apologize to him...

I let him go.

I made an even bigger fool of myself.

Tragic."

And the next day, it turned out that... in exchange for this trip and help with work, my father had promised to lend Szymon his car for the trip to the Netherlands... only if I wanted it, of course. Miśka told me about the whole thing, adding that I was a complete idiot and that Szymon wanted to surprise me, which is why he hadn't said anything earlier. I didn't know what to do. I mean, I thought if I called now, he'd think I was some kind of damn materialistic...

Only when Miśka added that she'd just talked to his friends and that he was supposedly sitting on our pitch did I decide I had to go apologize. Apologize profusely. Very, very much. And probably face utter contempt, which would result in me giving up the trip of a lifetime in favor of letting the rest of us go. He

did indeed play alone on our pitch. He was doing terribly until he saw me and started trying.

"You should work on your reflexes. And the precision of your movements," I began, in the same vein as he had yesterday. "Besides, you play really well. And you dance great. And you swim..." "...and you smell," I added in my mind. I could even say it out loud; after all, I couldn't make a bigger fool of myself... Szymon, as expected, didn't say a word. Well, I could only try one thing. "I'll teach you a trick," I said with more confidence and joined the game. He fought fiercely for the ball, but I took advantage of one of my improvised moves and took it. We stood in the same position as the first time: I held the ball behind my back, and he touched it too. Again, we were just a few millimeters apart.

"I know that trick..." he said quietly and sadly, but I could see he could barely control himself and not lunge at me, because I wet my lips again and tilted my head slightly.

"I don't think so," I replied, releasing the ball, which fell to the ground with its characteristic sound. His hands landed on my back. He looked deep into my eyes, and I gently placed my hands on his and moved them to the back of his neck. Finally, I pulled him close and kissed him.

In that moment, I understood what all the fuss was about, and why you close your eyes during kisses. I was so incredibly happy! I think I truly fell in love... We couldn't tear ourselves away from each other, it was... ugh... I turned into some kind of hopeless romantic... bleh!

Now I'm sitting in the car, on the way to Amsterdam, with the package I gave back and Szymon, of course, and writing about how it all happened, because I still can't believe my dream is coming true.

I just hope there's a basketball court at our hotel, or somewhere nearby... :P