“That was awesome!” Mary said as we came to the middle of the court. We were all tied up now, 1-1.
Our coach waved us over, and I wiped my forehead with the hem of my jersey. He went into some of the weaknesses of the other team and what he wanted us to do differently this game.
I turned around, walking back onto the court and glancing up at the crowd. My heart nearly stopped as I saw my parents in the stands. I frowned, wondering how they’d even known I had a game tonight. I’d avoided telling them so I wouldn’t be so disappointed when they didn’t show up.
My gaze moved down a few benches and caught on Ben, his smile widening when he saw me looking at him. Butterflies took off in my stomach, and my chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d missed him.
“You gonna play?” Mary asked, pointing to the court.
“Uh, yeah. I’m ready.” I broke my gaze away from Ben and focused on the ball coming my way. Something about seeing him there sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I reacted to the ball, moving around the court where I needed to be to set up my teammates, his presence there in the back of my mind the whole time.
The last game was a battle, but we were able to win on a smash from Sasha. After shaking hands with the opposing team and a quick wrap-up speech from my coach, I shoved my shoes and knee pads into my bag, trying to figure out what I’d say to the three people I’d been avoiding for the last two weeks. The fact that they’d all shown up tonight made it harder to be as mad at them as I wanted to be.
“Rena, that was awesome, doll.”
I turned around to see my parents approaching. My dad stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
“Thanks, Dad.” I hated the fact that a rock formed in my throat.
He stepped back, and my mom replaced him. “You surprise me all the time, Rena,” she whispered. When she pulled back, I raised an eyebrow, curious as to the compliment.
I stared at her for a few seconds and finally asked, “Surprise you how?”
“For all you’ve been through this summer, for putting up with the lousy excuse for parents you have, and for being as excited about volleyball as I am about my clothes.” She dipped her head a moment, and when she spoke, her voice had more emotion than that day in the van when I’d modeled for her. “I’m sorry for not putting you first. And I learned from Ben that you’ve been looking for a job.”
I glanced behind them to where Ben was standing a ways back, surprised they’d had time to talk about anything with Ben since he seemed uneasy around many people.
“It’s not in the medical industry, but I’m looking for an assistant. After all the feedback you gave me after the fashion show, I want you to help me with this. What do you think?”
It took a moment to realize my mouth was hanging open. “Um, are you sure? Because I won’t be promoting the old-lady look.”
Both my parents burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She looked behind her, and when she turned back, she said, “Go easy on him. He’s a good kid.”
“See you at home, doll,” my dad called out over his shoulder as he and my mom walked away. How long had I waited for all that to happen between me and my parents? Now that it had, I wasn’t sure I was actually awake. I could only hope that by working with my mom, we could be as close as most moms and daughters were.
I waited a few seconds before dragging my eyes back to the tall guy I knew I was standing in front of me.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a hesitant smile.
“Hey.” I waited a few seconds, trying to think of what to say next. “Did you tell my parents about the game?”
He nodded, his eyes pleading. “I figured you could use some people on your side. I, uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again, for everything that’s happened between us. And I wanted to say I miss you. We won our championship game this weekend, and all I could think about was you not being there in the stands to cheer me on. So I knew I needed to be that person for you.”
I lifted my bag and slung it over my head and across my body. “You want to be that person now?” I couldn’t help the load of sarcasm that came out with the words.
Ben pinched his lips together, nodding his head. “I know I was an idiot. I, uh, threw a perfect game this weekend.”
I raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was getting at by using an apology that bragged about his talents. “What’s a perfect game?”
He smiled, looking down at his feet before raising his eyes back to mine. “It’s when a pitcher, with an awesome defense behind him, doesn’t allow anyone on base the entire game.” He paused, and I thought he’d finished.
“Okay, that still isn’t a good example of how you were an idiot.”
He held up a hand and laughed. “Just give me a minute to explain. I’ve been working harder than ever to get it so my pitches work and so I’m perfect in the things I thought were important. After achieving the perfect game, I realized that it came at a significant cost and one I don’t think was worth it.” Emotion choked the last few words. “I’ve been trying to live up to this ideal my dad has always held up for me. But you were right. I need to follow what I want, follow my dreams.”
“And what are those dreams?” I asked, the delivery not punching like I wanted it to.
“Oh, getting a scholarship, but also spending a lot of time with a certain brunette volleyball player.” He grinned for several seconds before his expression sobered. “I’m sorry I tried to offer you lame gifts for your birthday. I should have actually thought about things and realized all you really want is time. So, I wanted to know if you’d go to the homecoming dance with me?” His smile shook a bit.
I laughed as tears sprang to my eyes. “I’d rather have you here than gifts any day.” I reached forward, putting my hands on his neck and pulling him toward me. Without waiting to think about it, I pressed my lips to his in a quick kiss.
When we pulled back, his eyes were glazed, and I laughed. “That—went better than I imagined. So will you go with me?” he asked.
“Yes, Ben Clark. Dancing with you at my first school dance is the best birthday gift you could give me.”
Epilogue
Serena
The past few months had been a whirlwind, and while nothing was absolutely perfect, I was happier than I’d been in a long time.
I’d finally gone to my first dance in a dress my mom and I designed and created. Ben had made the night magical, but nothing would ever replace our first date in my mind. He’d relaxed on the amount of baseball practicing he did, allowing us to experience the fun, and heat, of Texas in the fall. And he was back working at the clinic. After a long discussion, Ben explained that he needed to follow his own dreams. His dad finally came around, and had even attended more of the fall ball games Ben’s team had played.
We’d made it to the second round in the state tournament for volleyball, and it was an adjustment not having practice and games as often. I’d been filling my time working with my mom in her boutique. With all the changes we’d made, tailoring the clothes to a younger audience and using my knowledge of social media to get it out there, we were busier than ever. We’d even started looking for larger warehouse space to accommodate all the orders.
My parents were now sharing a lot more with me, and adding Ben to my life made the loneliness go away.
We were sitting in the box suite at my dad’s game against the Dolphins, and Ben kept looking around as though he’d never experienced anything like it.
“I can’t believe we’re here. This is amazing.”
I laughed and shrugged. This was the first game I’d been to in a few years, but being there with my mom and Ben made it seem just about perfect.
“Ouch!” Ben said after a bone-crunching hit my dad laid on the guy in front of him. The player was slow to get up, and we watched the replay a few times on the big screen.
“I think I’ve finall
y decided where I’m going for college.” Ben’s voice was almost giddy, and I turned, curious to where he’d be heading next fall.
“Which school has convinced you to grace them with your presence?” I laughed.
Ben shook his head, rolling his eyes at the words. “I’m staying local, going to Texas Southern.”
I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “What happened to Alabama?” I asked as I pulled back.
He shook his head, smiling. “They didn’t offer me as much, and I wouldn’t get to pitch for the first year or two. I want to play, and sticking around here has its benefits.” He leaned down and captured my mouth with his lips.
“Okay, kids,” my mom said, laughing. “Let’s watch the game.”
I pulled back, biting my bottom lip as my cheeks warmed. I slipped my hand into Ben’s, feeling the calluses of his fingers on the back of my hand.
Who would have thought that a feisty, sarcastic girl like me would end up with one of the sweetest and nicest kids at Rosemont? We weren’t without our arguments, but we knew how important it was to have each other there, cheering no matter the activity. We were the epitome of imperfect people, but somehow we made it work. One day and one game at a time.
Need another book while you wait for The Perfect Catch (Book 3) to come out?
Check out Meg & Parker’s story in Love, Austen.
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Love, Austen
Chapter 1
Meg Austen heard the computer humming its startup song as she sorted the envelopes at her desk. A couple of pieces of junk mail and several bills. Twisting a piece of her blonde hair, she considered leaving the envelopes untouched. Maybe if she blinked fast enough, they’d disappear. She loved to see what came in the mailbox as a kid, but now she understood that with the postman usually came papers demanding money, a never-ending battle.
She didn’t have to open the letters to know they said. Past-Due in red ink. The costs of remodeling and renting a physical building weren’t things she’d had to worry about before, but her growing matchmaking business had stretched her bank account thinner than she’d ever seen it. Ramen noodles was a staple in her apartment at the moment.
One envelope stood out from the pile, its square shape sticking up next to the rest. These were the letters she wanted to receive. The ones printed on linen or parchment, mylar or linen, the words in an elegant script. Pulling the sharp letter-opener from her desk drawer, she sliced open the envelope, and pulled out the contents.
Meg skimmed past the names of the bride’s parents to find Rebecca Ann spelled out in a swoopy script. Her husband-to-be was Richard Story, one of the three matches Meg had picked out for her. Included was a picture of the happy couple sitting on a park bench gazing into each other’s eyes.
This. Everything about this validated why she did what she did. That look on his face as he stared at her. Rebecca’s wide smile. Totally worth the hours of research it took to compile the data in order to find people their best match.
She stood, turning to the wall at her right. Covering the wall were dozens of invitations with the engagement pictures taped next to them. The success stories of the Love, Austen Matchmaking Company over the past four years.
A sharp pain sliced through her chest, envy trickling in its wake. Her life was better than she could have hoped, near perfect by certain standards. She owned a business she adored, had amazing friends, and all the Nutella hot chocolate she could drink from the creperie around the corner from the new building.
The only thing she was missing was the kind of relationship her best friend, Lily, had with her fiancée, Ben. With their wedding on the horizon, Meg’s life would change, as she’d depended on Lily for so many things. Marriage changed friendships and while she had been trying to prepare herself for it over the past several months, she could only hope she’d find peace from it all.
Taping the newest invitation to the wall, she glanced at the envelopes again, knowing she’d have to tackle them before lunch or they’d sit there for weeks. She arranged them on the corner of her desk, and clicked on her email inbox. Several new emails from current and potential clients waited and as she scanned the headlines, her eyes stopped on one of them.
Her stomach did a flip as she read: INVESTMENT REQUEST. With a quick click, she scrolled down faster than she could even comprehend. She hadn’t learned anything from her attempt at speed reading and rolled the page back to the top.
“Dear Miss Austen,
We thank you for your application to the Boston Investors Alliance. We have gone through your profile and request more information about your company before moving forward.”
Not one to object to reading the end of a book, her eyes slid to the last paragraph.
“Please give our office a call between 9:00 am-5:00 pm in the next day or two. Ask for Mark Allred.”
Her hand hovered over the receiver as she stared at the wall in front of her.
Should I call them now?
She scanned to see what time they sent the email. Forty-seven minutes ago. Was that too soon to respond? Would they think she was desperate?
What was a little humiliation? It had almost killed her pride to send in the application in the first place. She’d made a goal to depend on herself for any need, business or otherwise, the day she found out her mother had taken half of her college savings.
After a coaxing debate from her assistant, Tiffany, she’d decided that getting a business loan, or taking on investors, wasn’t like robbing a bank. Besides, people had the guts to convince investors on TV that their product would make millions. Sending in an electronic application made her grateful she didn’t have to do beg and plead in front of an audience.
Nervous energy bubbled in her stomach and she shook her hands to calm herself for a moment.
They can say no. I’ll just find another way to do things. Just breathe.
She picked up the phone, dialing the number at the bottom of the email.
“Boston Investors Alliance. How may I direct your call?” a woman’s voice came over the line.
“Um...that's a good question.” The name already escaped her and she had to skim the email, seeing the information she needed, “May I speak to Mark Allred, please?”
“One moment, please.”
Meg heard the click and then that awful trumpet, trying-to-be-jazz type music filled her ears. She pulled the phone away and rolled her eyes. If they were going to play music, why couldn't they play something most people listened to?
Once the call connected, the ringing tone echoed in Meg’s ear, sending her mind into doubt. She’d gained experience with talking to people of various economic backgrounds in the time she’d been running Love, Austen, but the thought of some unknown person deciding whether or not to give her money based on a few questions from an application formed knots in her stomach.
Her finger hovered over the disconnect button, giving herself to the count of ten. When she reached eight, a male voice answered, causing her mind to scramble as it focused on his words. Her stomach gurgled and dryness overtook her mouth.
Chocolate. She’d need some of that when this call finished.
After quick introductions, the raspy voice on the line said, “I’m looking at your file now. With all the information of your background, your business plan, and everything else you've submitted, you’ve passed the first stage of the process. We feel it’s important to vet each client before handing out money.” He paused and Meg hoped it wasn’t to drive the point home. She wasn’t giving up now. “The board requested a phone interview, to discover why you want people to invest in your company. There’s only so much we can learn on paper.”
The line went silent and Meg pursed her lips, unsure what to do. Was he waiting for her to answer?
Or was this another pause? Her heart raced, and she placed a hand over it, hoping to calm it enough to breathe in a few mouthfuls of air without sounding like she’d just run a 5K.
“Well, sir, I've been working on Love, Austen since my senior year of college, so almost five years. In that time, we've been able to grow our clientele each year, this last year by nearly thirty-three percent, many coming from referrals of past clients. Our success rate of couples still together after the first year has been steady for most of that time and in the last year rose another six percent.”
Mr. Allred said nothing. Twisting the cord at the base of her receiver, Meg tried not to breathe loudly into it.
“What would our investment go toward?”
She visualized the online application where she'd detailed her answer to that exact question. Closing her eyes, she said, “Well, sir, we've just opened our first physical location on Beacon Street, giving us the adequate room for meeting potential clients as well as bringing in some of the locals. But my overall vision for this company is to go global. After meeting with a business analyst, he suggested we increase our online footprint. My first priority is to design an app allowing people to benefit from all the conveniences of our company from anywhere around the world.”
“Ah, those applications my grandkids talk about. I'm lucky I know how to text. Don’t get me started about those smiley faces.” The man chuckled and a pity laugh escaped from her lips.
Great. My future rests in the hands of a man who doesn't understand technology. It was the very basis of her business in the way she calculated personality traits and compatibility scores to match her clients. She tried to picture the man, probably nearing retirement at a job he’d held for at least forty years. Comfort was his signature.
The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2) Page 16