Game On

by Michelle Smith

  She looks right here. Perfect.

  “So proud of you,” Momma says, and my gaze snaps to her. “Y’all did amazing.” She looks back and forth between me and Bri, smiling as she pries my sister off Bri’s back. “We’ll see you at home, all right? Don’t be too late.”

  “Keep it easy tonight,” Dad adds. “Got me?”

  I give him a thumbs-up, which he returns with a nod. Bri watches them head for the parking lot, but now, I can’t stop watching her. She’s soaked, her hair matted to her head, her clothes clinging to her skin.

  Dear Lord in heaven above.

  “You stuck around through the rain?” I asked.

  She finally looks at me, raindrops clinging to her eyelashes. “I had to see you win.”

  I can’t help but grin and take a step closer. “So you knew I’d win?”

  “Totally knew it.” And her smile widens, somehow even brighter.

  Water trickles down my face, slow and steady, as an overwhelming urge hits me. All I wanna do is grab the girl and kiss her. And judging from the way she’s holding my gaze, I think she knows.

  But I can’t. Because these stupidly fragile hearts need protecting.

  “I should get going,” she says. “Dad’s coming in tonight.”

  Of course he is. I swallow hard. Force my grin to stay in place. “No dinner with the family?”

  “You’ve got partying to do tonight,” she says. “Big win. Live it up. Celebrate.” She backs away, waving. “Congrats, Eric.”

  I want her to keep saying my name. Like, maybe even just make a video of her saying my name over and over and over. That sounds better than a fastball hitting Blake’s mitt.

  A hand lands on my shoulder. Kellen steps to my side. “You goin’ to the river?” he asks.

  It’s team tradition—after every win, we pile into our trucks and drive down to the riverbank. But as good as that win felt tonight, I kind of want to go home with the girl walking away from me. “Not sure,” I tell him.

  He moves in front of me, his uniform soaked through. “Bullcrap.” He holds out his hands, gesturing to me. “You are Eric Freakin’ Perry. Who else is gonna initiate the noobs? This is your job. Your purpose. Your divine calling.”

  The guy’s got a point. Besides, if Bri’s dad is home, then chances are I’m not getting within throwing distance of her tonight.

  So I follow Kellen to our trucks, waving while climbing into mine. The drive across town is quick, bringing me to the river within minutes. There’s a section of shaded dockside that our team’s claimed for years, mostly for nights like this—for the beer and for the celebration. I park my truck at the end of the line, beside Kellen’s, and change into a pair of gym shorts and a clean t-shirt before stepping out. The rain’s stopped, leaving patches of mud and scattered puddles. I pop my tailgate and hop up as Kellen comes around, climbing up beside me.

  The other guys have already dragged out a bunch of lawn chairs, which are lined up along the shoreline. Those chairs look brand new compared to the raggedy ones my brother brought to these parties for all his years on varsity. I could’ve brought them tonight. Probably should have, for old time’s sake. But it looks like the old times are long gone.

  Blake’s truck roars through the trees, parking next to mine. He jumps down, his hood pulled up as he walks over and hoists himself onto my tailgate. “This is dull as hell,” he murmurs. He nudges me. “Get somethin’ going, Perry. By this time last year, you had me freezin’ my balls off in the river.”

  Eyeing the group by the water, I grin. All the sophomores are sitting on their rears in the lawn chairs with entirely too many clothes on. After the first win of each season, every new Bulldog has to take a dip in the Lewis Creek River. It’s tradition. And you don’t mess with tradition.

  I hop off the tailgate. “Rookies!” I shout. Everyone shifts, turning to look our direction. “What makes y’all think you’re gettin’ by without gettin’ your asses in the water? You ain’t a Bulldog until you take a dive!”

  That’s all it takes for the guys to jump from their chairs. My grin widens as I start for the dock. It may not be much, but this moment is mine, damn it. Kellen’s right: my divine calling involves getting dudes to strip down and jump in the river. And I’m okay with that.

  I stop at the edge of the dock, waiting for the guys to fall into line at the other end. They tug off their shirts and shorts; I can see the poor bastards shivering from here.

  “Fellas,” I begin, rubbing my hands together. “You’re about to partake in the oldest tradition of Bulldogs baseball.” Pursing my lips, I tilt my head to the side. “Okay, maybe not the oldest. But definitely one of the greatest.” I gesture to the water behind me. “This water? It’s like your baptism. You’ll go under a rookie, and come out washed in the sweet holy water of Lewis Creek.”

  “And he’s a pastor’s kid,” Blake shouts from my truck. “He knows all about that shit.”

  I point at him. “He’s right. I know all about that shit. Take my word for it.” Stepping aside, I wave on the first kid, Nick Lucas. “Let’s get this goin’.”

  Nick Lucas ventures onto the dock, peering over at the water. He catches my eye. I flash him a smirk. Taking a deep breath, he runs and takes a flying leap into the river. I turn, shielding myself from the splash. One by one, the others follow right behind him, with the veterans cheering them on from the sidelines.

  I may not be good at many things, but getting people half-naked seems to be one of my strengths. And I’m totally going with it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bri

  I lied. Sort of. Dad is coming back into town any time now, but before going home, I need some serious head-clearing girl time. I find Becca by her Jeep in the parking lot after the game, tapping her phone’s screen. When she glances up and spots me, she tosses her phone into the driver’s seat without another look.

  If Eric is quicksand, then Becca is my solid ground. She’s been the only constant in my life for a long time. Back when Dad started driving trucks, I’d stay at Becca’s for weeks at a time. A year passed before her parents not-so-discreetly told her that they could only house and feed me for so long.

  She snuck me into her bedroom for another week before they noticed.

  “I need a milkshake,” I tell her. “I need the biggest, most fat-filled deliciousness of milkshake that exists in town.”

  Pursing her lips, she nods once. “Done. Sammy’s it is, then.” She flashes a smile and climbs into her seat. I head to my car and follow her across town. The roads are empty thanks to game night; nearly every place in this town shuts down when there’s a home baseball game.

  Sammy’s is an old cheeseburger dive with chipped paint and horrible lighting. They also put any big-name fast-food place to shame. And I’m pretty sure their giant milkshakes are illegal in at least seven states.

  Thank sweet Jesus for South Carolina’s love of amazing food.

  Becca and I settle into a booth near the back, even though the place is deserted. A Dolly Parton song crackles through the one functioning speaker mounted behind us. Becca’s hair is drying a heck of a lot faster than mine, hers falling into flawless red waves while mine probably rivals a llama’s.

  Or a drama llama. Which, with the way I’m feeling, isn’t entirely inaccurate.

  Becca stares me straight in the eye. “Spill.”

  I suck down half my milkshake before I finally have the guts to say, “Eric Perry.”

  “Is hot.”

  “Not helping.”

  She tilts her head to the side, her shoulders heaving with her sigh. “It’s okay to like someone. Normal, even. Especially guys who are actually, you know, nice to you.”

  I point at her. “No. I’m not allowed to like anyone right now. I need you to keep me in check.” I look out the window, at the caution light flashing across the wet, deserted street. That’s one thing I’ll love about leaving for college in August: going to a place that isn’t a total ghost town on nights like thes
e, a place that has life outside of baseball. Sometimes I think that’s the only thing holding this town together.

  “Fine,” Becca says, and I look back to her. “I’ll keep you away from the baseball boy.” She takes a sip of her milkshake. “But you’re not allowed to keep me away from the baseball boy’s friend.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Blake’s pretty hot. But he’s as much of a player as Eric.” As much as Eric used to be, anyway. Ever since that thing happened with Laura, I’ve barely seen him talk to another girl.

  “This is where you and I are different. I’ll let him play me all he wants. Because I can play the game even better.”

  My grin only grows. “What the heck am I gonna do without you next year?”

  Her eyes widen. “No,” she says firmly. “We’re not doing that right now. It’s March. We’re gonna think about soccer, and hot baseball boys who are not douches, and the fact that you’re turning back into someone who actually smiles again.” She pauses. “I’ve missed you.”

  Her words are a hit to the heart, but in a good way, I think. “I think I’m starting to find my way back,” I say after a moment.

  She eyes me, shaking her head slowly. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure you can be that Bri again—you’re never really the same after something, or someone, like that, you know? But you can be a New Bri. A Take-No-Shit-Bri.”

  I like that Bri. I hold out my cup, which she taps with her own. “I’ll drink to that.”

  ~

  By the time I make it home, my stomach is full of ice cream and utterly blissful. Which is a good thing, because Dad’s truck cab is in the driveway.

  His coming home is always a double-edged sword. On one side, I’m more excited than a kid in a candy store. On the other, it sucks. Because it’s only a matter of time before he leaves again.

  But I’ve got to say, it’s sort of amazing to walk inside and already have the lights on.

  Dad’s sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. And even if my stomach is in knots at the inevitable “this is how long I have” conversation, I grin and plop down beside him.

  He slings his arm across my shoulder. Presses a kiss to the side of my head. Settles on some fishing show, which is incredibly lame, but whatever. One thing I’ve learned is to enjoy the time we do have with people.

  “How was it?” he asks.

  He asks the same question every time he comes home, and my answer’s always the same: “Fine,” I tell him.

  And even though he knows good and well that it’s a bold-faced lie, he nods, just like he always does.

  Something else I’ve learned: No one ever wants to address the elephant in the room, even if the elephant is tap-dancing around in pink stilettos. Sometimes a lie, and accepting that lie, is so much better than dealing with the painful headache of the truth.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eric

  Saturdays are easily my new favorite day of the week.

  By the second Saturday of March, I’m more than okay with riding shotgun to Bri, listening to classic rock, and letting my stomach growl while serving food to old men who make fun of me and teaching baseball to kids who don’t hate me so much after all.

  All day, the girl beside me has been smiling. And all day, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off that smile. Which sucks, considering today was our last Saturday together.

  My sentence is complete. Served in full. I’m a free guy.

  I’m not so sure that freedom is all it’s cracked up to be.

  It’s just past ten when Bri pulls into her driveway, after helping me at the church. Despite the truck cab in her driveway, all the lights in her house are dark, aside from the porch light.

  “Your dad isn’t out hunting us down, is he?” I ask her. Ever since he came home this week, he’s been staring me down like I’m a deer in his crosshairs.

  She shakes her head. “That’s the beauty of texts. I already let him know where we were.”

  “And he’s okay with it?”

  She hesitates. “I didn’t say that. I just said that he knows where I’ve been. He’s probably asleep already.”

  It shouldn’t bug me so much that the man hates me, but it does. I guess he can put up with the punk kid next door, but when I’m actually around his precious daughter, I’m as worthless as spoiled meat.

  She unbuckles her seatbelt and slides out of her car, and I do the same. We branch off toward our houses, the same paths we’ve taken for years. But this time, I can’t bring myself to fully walk away. I want to walk her to her door. Tell her goodnight.

  Maybe do more than tell her goodnight.

  She stops in the middle of her lawn and turns, the full moon shining on her like a spotlight. She catches me staring and smiles. She’s been doing a lot of that lately. So have I. “What is it?” I ask.

  She stuffs her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and takes a step toward me. “Honestly? I’m not really ready to go home yet.”

  Okay.

  She stares at me for a long moment before adding, “Are you?”

  Nope. I am definitely not ready to go home—not while she’s looking at me like that. “I’m up for whatever you are.”

  “You wanna come over to my house?” She winces. “Wow. That makes me sound like I’m ten.”

  Ten was a good year. Ten was full of backyard campouts and climbing trees and kissing. So I’d be more than happy for us to pretend we’re back there again, especially since the kissing came to a very disappointing halt after that year. “I remember when you were ten. You were cute.” Walking across the driveway, I can’t help but add, “You’re not so cute anymore though.”

  Her eyes widen. “Thanks?”

  I stop at the edge of her lawn. Shake my head. “Not cute. Gorgeous.”

  I half expect her to roll her eyes. To tell me to screw off. Instead, her smile widens.

  I glance at her house. “We could have another sleepover. More pizza and TV and sleeping on your couch.”

  “I don’t think my dad would like that.”

  “But would you?”

  Chewing on her lower lip, she hangs her head. “I did like that sleepover.”

  “We should have them more often.”

  “Eric.” It’s a one-word warning to tone it down a notch. Noted. We stand in silence, with her staring at the ground and me at her. I don’t know what she wants from me. I don’t know what I want her to want. All I know is that now, I really don’t want to go home, either.

  “Sometimes,” she begins, and pauses. Looks to the sky. “I don’t know,” she says more quietly. “Sometimes it’s just nice to be held. To know that someone’s there.” Her gaze finally lands on me. There was warning in her voice minutes ago, but now her eyes are full of confusion and pleading and “what the hell do we do,” all at the same time. And I don’t know. But I do know something we can try.

  “Come here.” I walk down my driveway to my truck and pop its tailgate. My boots thump against the bed liner as I jump inside. Bri appears at my side, looking on as I reach into the toolbox and pull out the flannel blanket I keep inside for emergencies.

  “A blanket, Eric?” she says. “Really?”

  I gape at her. “It’s for emergencies.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously.”

  I didn’t say what kind of emergencies. Sometimes there are clothes-less emergencies. But judge not, and all that. Regardless, she walks around to the tailgate and climbs up. I plop down in front of the toolbox, leaving plenty of room for her. She stares at me long and hard before sitting and stretching her legs alongside mine. And then she turns to me, her lips slightly parted. “No funny business,” she says, the words almost a whisper.

  I shake my head. “No funny business.” She leans forward just enough for me to wrap the blanket around both our shoulders. More than anything, I want it to be my arm around there, to let her know I’m here anytime she may want me. Or need me.

  With any other girl, I would have made that move already, but she’s dif
ferent. And that sounds stupid and cliché and I refuse to drop the “she’s not like other girls” bullshit, because she’s just like plenty of other girls around here: she’s smart and gorgeous and hilarious and a blast to be around. But she is different. She’s the only one who makes me want to be different. She makes me want to be better. For her.

  She gazes at the sky, a peaceful smile spreading across her face. “Carolina nights are sacred, you know,” she says. “There’s something magical about them. The wide open sky. The stars.” She glances at me out the corner of her eye. “It’s nice when the nights are still. But when the breeze kicks in, it’s kind of like the universe is tossing its beauty in your face.”

  Right on cue, that breeze swirls around us. And it’s the cheesiest damn thing that’s ever crossed my mind, but she’s wrong about one thing: it’s not the universe’s beauty being tossed in my face. But there’s no way in hell I’m telling her that. Because holy cheese.

  I squint, spotting an eyelash beneath her eye. I gesture to my own. “You got a—” I circle my finger, the universal gesture for you’ve got an eyelash and for some reason no one ever says the word “eyelash.” She rubs her eye, but it’s still there. Chuckling, I swipe it from her skin and hold it out for her. “Make a wish.”

  She eyes me for a moment, a weird mixture of confusion and something I can’t place clouding her face, before blowing on my finger softly. And damn, if that doesn’t send chills shooting through every nerve in my body.

  She’s right—Carolina nights are sacred. As long as those nights involve her, under a blanket, right beside me.

  I swallow hard. “What’d you wish for?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “You’re not supposed to say your wish aloud. It won’t come true.”

  I grin. “You can tell me. Promise. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Her gaze falls as her lips curve into the slightest of smiles. “It’s stupid, anyway.”

  “I don’t think anything you say could be stupid.”