Out of My League

by Sarah Sutton

  I rolled onto my side, tucking my hands underneath the side of my head as I watched him. “Hey, I know I was jerky about it before, but thank you for sticking up for me. I’m sorry you had to do all this.” I gestured blindly at the space between us. Putting up with me, putting up with Scott’s inquisition, putting up with my deceit—which you don’t know about, of course. But you will. “Just…thanks.”

  Now Walsh’s head did turn toward me, eyes darting to my own. “Don’t listen to Scott. You should never apologize for being the rom-com loving, slushy obsessed, talented writing nerd that you are. Don’t ever apologize.”

  The intensity in his eyes made my lungs confused—they seemed to forget how to pull in air. “I should embroider that on a pillow.”

  “You know, this has been refreshing. Having someone in my life that actually cares.”

  I placed my hand on the bed between us, shifting. Unintentionally, my body rolled closer to his on my bedspread, the space between us mere inches. “What do you mean?”

  “You asked me to go walk dogs with you the other day, and I was genuinely excited, you know. When you came to check on me because you heard I was sick, you brought me soup, and you tried to cheer me up. I don’t know how I’ll go back to my meaningless life before this,” he said with mock-despair. “You’ve ruined me.”

  “We can still be friends after this,” I whispered, even though I hadn’t meant to. I meant to speak normally, but the words came out soft and breathy, taking this moment and turning it into something…different. Something that made my chest tighten, my body warm to a degree that felt searing. “Can’t we?”

  At first, it was a hint of a touch, skin against skin. But Walsh moved his hand over my hand that rested on the bed between us, his fingers covering my own. Warmth from him jumped onto me, spanning along my arm until I was covered with it. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, grabbing my hand when no one was there to see it. Slipping his fingers over mine, spreading them apart and tracing the knuckles. He wasn’t looking at me, though, his gaze turned down to our hands.

  The longer he remained silent, the quicker my pulse beat. Faster and faster and louder and louder until I could’ve sworn that he could hear it, feel it in my fingertips, know what my traitorous body was doing in response to his touch.

  Stop that, I wanted to tell my heart. Stop beating so fast. This is Walsh. This is fake.

  But those blue eyes lifted to mine and suddenly I was in the middle of the ocean, treading water but beginning to sink. Rapidly. Like I was wearing concrete shoes.

  My words, though I tried to make them steady, came out barely there. “Why are you staring at me?”

  The soft words broke the moment in half, and Walsh released my hand, curling his own into fists. His eyes moved from mine. “Your glasses are smudgy.”

  “They are?” I pulled them from my face to find them slightly speckled, and I used the hem of my shirt to swipe at the lens. My cheeks flamed hot. “I guess I’m just blind to it. Which is strange, since it’s right in front of me.”

  The bed jostled as Walsh pushed to a sitting position. “I should get going. There are a few things I need to do before heading down to the bay.”

  “Well, have fun. Drink a slushy for me.” I sat up too, slipping my glasses back on. My face still felt warm, but I tried to ignore it. “I like blue-raspberry the best, so drink one of those.”

  Walsh smiled but didn’t look at me. His gaze rested on my butterflies. “I will, I promise.”

  My fingers still held onto the residual warmth his skin gave off, almost a tingly sensation. I laced them together to try and make the feeling go away.

  “Sophie?” he asked, still standing just in front of me.

  This time, I didn’t correct him. “Walsh?”

  With a delicate touch, he slid a fingertip along the metal of my glasses frame, moving from the arm to slip a piece of hair behind my ear. “I really like your glasses,” Walsh said. “Smudges and all.”

  And just like that, the tingly sensation from my fingers spread to my stomach.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mom left around two in the afternoon with Mariana, Dad heading to the bay shortly after. It was strange being cooped up in the house on a holiday all by myself—this was the most un-Fourth of July ever.

  I didn’t even have the motivation to work on my article.

  The problem about being isolated on a holiday was that there was no one to talk to. Edith, no doubt, was already down at the bay, soaking up the remnants of sunlight and playing some beach volleyball. My texts to her remained unanswered. I wondered if she’d be chatting up Zach or not—I hoped so.

  I could’ve texted Walsh, but I doubted that he’d answer either, having to do his errands before going down to the party.

  Would tonight be the end of our fake relationship? Would people wonder why we weren’t together? Would they even notice? Scott would. And Walsh—would he say that I was just at home, or would he say that things weren’t working out between us?

  The thought of our ruse ending being up made me feel sad in a way. Maybe because I’d lose him as a source for my article. But then again, I did have a pretty good list running: the information I’d found on the school’s site, the team paying off the other players—though I needed just a smidge more proof for that—and Ryan’s parents’ private donations to the baseball fund. With those points, my article was basically done.

  Just the idea of letting everything fall apart, staging a public break up, probably never speaking again—none of it sat well with me. My mind went back to when we’d read together in his car and floated along the bay outside his house for hours, just talking. And the way he’d looked at me earlier this morning. All of it was…nice. Really nice. And other than with Edith, I hadn’t had anything really nice with anybody in a while.

  It had to end sometime.

  The sun began to fall from the sky by the time my movie ended, and I stood up and stretched. Shiba laid on the end of the couch, sound asleep, her stomach facing the ceiling and her paws spread wide. She looked so uncomfortable. I really wanted to reach out and run my fingers along her stomach, but I knew what that would result in: claw marks, yowls, and probably tears on my part. I’ve learned the hard way that Shiba’s sleep isn’t to be messed with.

  A loud knock came from the direction of the front door, startling me so badly that I let out a squeak. Shiba jerked awake, immediately shooting me a look. “Sorry,” I told her, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Blame whoever’s at the door.”

  I made my way towards the door, wondering who would be stopping by at this hour. Maybe Mom or Dad, having forgotten their keys? When I got close enough, I raised my voice. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” the voice said, pausing. “Scott.”

  I jerked away from the door as if I’d been shocked. What the heck was he doing here? Quickly, I reached up and took my glasses off, sending my world into a hazy blur. Then I ran my fingers through my hair, combing out all the knots. After readjusting the blanket, I tugged open the door.

  Sure enough, Scott stood on the welcome mat, his sandaled feet covering the E and the C, though the letters were a little blurry. He wore a tank top with little American flags on it, and a red pair of swim trunks.

  “I should’ve called,” he said immediately. “I know I should’ve. But I saw that your parents’ cars weren’t home and your lights were on, so I thought I’d come knock.”

  I gripped the doorknob, trying to figure out why exactly he was driving past my house in the first place. “Oh. Yeah. I’m here.”

  “Why aren’t you down at the bay with your boyfriend?”

  “I’m grounded,” I said, and my cheeks felt warm. I couldn’t really pinpoint why. Maybe it was because we were finally alone together again, and it made me feel so uncomfortable. “Why did you stop by, anyway?”

  Scott shifted on the mat, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been meaning to call
you, catch up. We used to talk a lot, you know? You were a good listener.”

  My guard went up fast. He was complimenting me? Something wasn’t right. “We didn’t talk all that much when we were together, you know.”

  “Not as much as I would’ve liked,” he agreed. And even though I didn’t have my glasses on, I could tell when Scott’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “I’m sure you and Walsh talk all the time.”

  I forced myself to swallow the annoyance that sparked and the urge to shut the door in his face.

  “I’m surprised you two are lasting as long as you are.”

  “You’re wrong about him,” I said defensively. Heck, even I’d been wrong about him, but I wondered if I just let Scott’s bias affect mine. “Walsh is a great guy.”

  Scott stuffed one of his hands into his swim trunks’ pockets, chuckling. “You really think you and him are a good fit? He’s way too self-absorbed for you. And entitled. And—oh, yeah—an idiot.”

  Yeah, and what are you? I wanted to shout at him, because all of his hateful words to me still played in my mind. The tone he used now replicated that which he’d used at the party two weeks ago. He hadn’t come here to talk to me; he’d come here to try and convince me I was wrong.

  “Irony is funny, isn’t it, Sophia? I break up with you to find someone better, someone that could help me outdo Walsh, and then you go and become his girlfriend.” Scott sighed. “Irony or a coincidence?”

  Had he really come here to bash me some more? Seriously? Did we really need to rehash all this again? “It’s called karma, Scott.”

  “I broke up with you because I needed someone better. Someone that help me could beat him. Someone who could be the other half of a power couple, in a way. Someone people were jealous of. And he knew that. Don’t you get it?” Scott’s voice was so passionate, so fevered. I realized now that this was the way he always got when discussing Walsh, so vehement with anger. “Don’t you see? Walsh is only dating you so he can mess with me. To ruin my life. That’s what this has always been about. He and I have always been rivals, and you knew that.”

  Standing in the doorway, with Scott in front of me and an empty house behind me, it felt like I woke up from a dream. A dream that held Scott’s and my past relationship, whatever feelings I had for him. All of that resided in that dreamworld, and now I woke up. I knew the truth about him now—I’d always known it.

  I didn’t even blink. “You sound crazy.”

  “You think he’s so nice and charming and charismatic? He wants people to think that. He wants you to think he’s got his life all figured out, but he doesn’t. He’s just as screwed up as the rest of us.” He reached out and touched my hand sitting on the doorknob. “Sophia, come on. You and I make much more sense. I let all of it get to me—I shouldn’t have let you go. I’m sorry.”

  It was hard to imagine there’d ever been a time where I basked in the rare feel of his skin against mine. Now the simple grazing contact made me sick to my stomach. His words now were hollow, meaningless. Apology as empty as could be. Because he was so transparent—he didn’t want me back. He only wanted me because Walsh wanted me. That made me desirable. Not so boring anymore.

  When Scott looked at me, though, he didn’t see me. He saw me as something that Walsh wanted. To him, I was a toy that Walsh had, and Scott wanted it. And I didn’t know what sparked this desire to have everything Walsh wanted, but now that I was included on that list, things were different.

  Knowing that, knowing that Scott only wanted me because Walsh liked me, hurt. It hurt just as much as his words at the party hurt. “You should leave, Scott,” I said, shaking his hand off and straightening my spine. “Now.”

  “Sophia.”

  “Now,” I repeated, sharpening my tone. I wanted him gone, off my porch, away from my house. Heck, I wanted him gone from my life. He could go run off to his new girlfriend, though she deserved better than him. Anyone would.

  Scott watched me for a moment, probably trying to gauge the severity of my attitude. But the straightness in my spine remained, and I didn’t budge.

  After a moment or two of silence, he backed away, flip-flops slipping off the welcome mat. “Go ahead, praise the ground he walks on,” he called back to me. “You’ll see.”

  I slammed the door shut in response, causing the pictures on the wall to vibrate. Who did he think he was? Coming to my house, insulting me, insulting Walsh. I couldn’t even imagine being so stupid, so self-absorbed.

  Angry tears burned in the back of my throat, and I glared at the wall, praying the feeling went away. The anger towards Scott morphed as I stared at the pictures, my emotions turning into something equally dark. The pictures that rattled when I slammed the door now hung immobile. I tried not to look at them too closely because it was only a testament to everything that ceased to exist, but I couldn’t fully tear my gaze away. One was a black and white photo, and we were on the beach. Dad had his arms wrapped around both Mom and me, her hand curled over his shoulder. Squished in the middle stood me, the widest gap-toothed grin on my face, eyes squinted shut.

  A thick emotion curled in my chest staring at the picture, because I wanted this back so bad. So bad. I wanted the ice cream nights, the beach trips, the weekends away. I wanted the family dinners, the “I love you’s.”

  And instead, it all fell apart.

  I found myself wanting to snatch up my phone and call Walsh, just to hear him speak. His voice had such a calming effect, one that seemed to chase away any worries that weighed me down. No, but I couldn’t. He was at the bay, having fun, living his life. Who was he talking to now? A bunch of girls with tiny swimsuits?

  You’re not jealous—that’s not jealousy, I repeated over and over in my head. I just wished he was here instead, saying some stupid joke or just reading with me.

  Time passed as I stood at the door, enough for all thoughts of Scott to be scattered from my mind. So I jumped again when yet another knock came, lunging for the handle, ready to shout. “I swear, I will call the—”

  But it wasn’t Scott.

  Walsh stood on the other side of the door with his blond eyebrows high up on his forehead. “Nice to see you, too?”

  “What are you doing here?” I was ten kinds of disoriented, staring at his figure standing against the fading sky. Did I conjure him from my thoughts? “Why aren’t you at the bay? Aren’t the fireworks starting soon?”

  “I didn’t go,” he told me, slipping his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

  “What? What do you mean you didn’t go? Where have you been for the past few hours, then?”

  Walsh reached a hand out to me, palm up. “I can show you.”

  As enticing as his words were, I hesitated, glancing at the picture on the wall as if somehow my parents could see me through it. “I can’t leave the house.”

  “Your house,” he said, eyes vivid with energy, “or your yard?”

  Uh. “What?”

  Walsh grabbed my hand and led me out onto my front porch, then down the two steps. “Close your eyes,” he commanded, his other hand coming around to my other shoulder to guide me. “I promise I won’t let you trip over anything.”

  “Walsh—”

  “Shh. Just say ‘yes, Walsh’ and close your eyes.”

  I gritted my teeth but relented, swaying as my vision filled with black. “I hate surprises.”

  Walsh pressed firmer against my side, his chest touching my shoulder, a smile in his voice. “I think you’ll like this one.”

  Grass crunched beneath my bare toes as he moved me along, but I remained a good sport and kept my eyes sealed. Though it was silly, my heart started to beat faster, the anticipation making me nervous. His hands that curved over my shoulders were gentle, the pressure steady, his body close enough behind me that I could practically feel his proximity.

  “Relax,” Walsh said, guiding me to a halt. “Your shoulders are so tense. I’m not about to kill you and stuff you in my trunk.”

  “Your trunk’s
huge. You seriously think you’d have to stuff me into it?”

  Walsh was close enough that I could feel him chuckle.

  “Can I open my eyes now?”

  Walsh hesitated for a moment before he let go entirely. “Yes.”

  I blinked my eyes open, expecting to see my plain, boring backyard, the green grass and the decrepit garden shed pressed in the corner.

  However, in the middle of the lawn sat a giant pink flamingo pool float, with throw blankets tossed over the top of it and pillows piled on. The pool float was made so that the body of the flamingo was two inner tube-like holes with a giant head poking straight up into the air. Beside the inflatable sat two clear plastic cups, and even from here I could see it was filled with something blue.

  “I had to go to three different stores to find blue-raspberry. Every place had either cherry or cola. Apparently not everyone is as crazy about blue-raspberry as you.”

  I stared at the giant pool float, utterly stupefied. “Why?”

  “I figured since you can’t go to the bay, I thought I could bring some bay to you.” When I looked over, I saw Walsh biting the corner of his bottom lip, pinching his fingers. Nervous. “I mean, if you’d rather just stay inside, that’s fine too. Or if you just don’t want company, that’s okay. I just thought—I ended up getting the thing anyway, so I thought—”

  I reached forward and pressed my hand to his mouth, much like he’d done to me once before, silencing him as I spoke in a rush. “This is singlehandedly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

  With his mouth under my palm, it was impossible to ignore how soft his lips were, unmanageable to pretend that I didn’t notice. The pressure was like a shot of alcohol, thrilling and shocking and powerful at the same time, especially as I felt him smile. One corner lifted along the seam of my fingers.

  In that moment, looking at him with the backdrop of the darkening sky, I felt a jolt as I realized how good-looking he was. I mean, I always knew Walsh was good looking—practically everyone in school raved about it—but it wasn’t even just his looks. No, if it was just his looks, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to buy the pool float, the slushies, and put all this together in my backyard. If it was just looks, he would’ve gone down to the bay and hung out with his friends.