Play Hard (Make the Play #2)

by Amber Garza

  “You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Concern paints his face.

  “No.”

  “You’re lying.” His eyes flash, and he releases me. Reaching down, he yanks my shirt up to expose the nasty bruise blooming on my skin. He looks at me as if I betrayed him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie. It just felt so good to be in your arms. I didn’t want it to end.”

  “Oh, Taylor, c’mere.” He wraps his arms around me, but this time he keeps them higher. “You have to promise to tell me if I hurt you again, okay?”

  “Okay,” I promise.

  “God, I hate that he hurt you. I hate that I didn’t stop him in time.”

  “Please don’t say that. It’s one little bruise. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, it would have been so much worse.” I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to his heart beating under my skin. “You saved me, Cal.”

  Cal

  I’m popping an Ibuprofen when there’s a knock on the door. Since I’m the only one home, I reluctantly stagger toward it. I feel like death warmed over this morning, and the last thing I want is visitors. My face hurts every time I talk or laugh, and the stitches above my eye itch. With a groan, I slowly open the door.

  It better not be a salesperson. That’s all I have to say.

  Relief floods me when I see that it’s Chris.

  “Dude,” he breathes out, taking in my face.

  I step out of the way to allow him to enter. After he passes me I say, “Em’s not here. I think she’s at the library tutoring someone.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he says as I close the door behind us. “She told me. I came by to see you.”

  “Ah, so she told you about my exciting night then?” I head into the family room. The Ibuprofen is starting to take affect, thank god. Lowering down onto the couch, I settle back against the cushions. Chris does the same.

  “Man, why didn’t you take me with you?” Chris says. “Two against one, we totally could’ve taken the guy.”

  “I handled it,” I bristle.

  “I know, but you didn’t have to handle it alone.” He slaps my thigh. “We’re a team, you and me.”

  “I guess I just didn’t want to involve you in it,” I say honestly. “Besides, I wasn’t even sure he’d be at her house. It was just a hunch.”

  “It’s not too late. We can find the guy and kick his ass now,” Chris offers.

  “Dude’s in jail. He’s someone else’s problem now.”

  Chris nods as if processing the information. “How’s Taylor?”

  “Shaken up, but physically she’s fine.”

  “And you two are good?”

  I nod.

  “Probably helps that her ex is behind bars, huh?” Chris smiles. “In one night you sorta got rid of her past.”

  “It’s not really that simple,” I mutter.

  “What do you mean?”

  There’s no need to keep it secret anymore. The cat’s already out of the bag. My parents know. Emmy knows. Pretty soon Taylor will start showing, and the whole town will know. Hell, I kind of wish I’d come clean with everything to Chris last night. Chris was right about one thing. I could’ve used his help. What was I thinking racing in their by myself like a knight in shining armor? When I think of the damage Dusty could’ve done to Taylor it’s too much to bear.

  “Chris,” I start, “Taylor’s pregnant.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  “And it’s his?”

  I nod.

  “Wow.” He whistles. “That’s a little different than me having to face Josh on the baseball team. Once she has this baby you’re going to have to be faced with another guy’s child all the time. Do you think you can do that?”

  “It’s true, I’ll have to see the child around town, but that will happen whether I’m dating Taylor or not,” I explain.

  “So she’s staying here, huh? She’s not going back to the city?” He asks, and it’s a valid question. All of us assumed Taylor was here to hide from her ex. Now that he’s locked up, it would be safe to assume she’s going back. Only I know the whole truth. She might go back home, but not until after the baby’s born in the fall.

  “I don’t know what her plans are for the future, but the baby’s staying here.”

  Chris furrows his brows.

  “Her aunt and uncle are adopting the baby.”

  “Ah, I see.” Chris nods. “That’s pretty cool, actually.”

  “I think so.” The whole town knows how the pastor and his wife can’t have kids. It’s honestly amazing what Taylor is doing for them.

  “Dude, how did your parents take all of this?” Chris asks.

  “Better than expected, actually.”

  “What about Em?”

  “You probably know that better than I do. Isn’t she the one who told you about this? Isn’t that why you came over today?”

  “All she said was that you were beat up by Taylor’s ex and could use your best friend. She said I’d have to find out the rest from you.” Chris presses his two index fingers together, tenting them. Leaning back, he pins me with a challenging stare.

  I smile. “Well, Em’s Em. She’s following me around, talking nonstop, and begging me for every single detail. You know how she is.”

  Dropping his hands, he chuckles. “Sounds about right. But I’m sure it’s just because she’s worried about you, bro.”

  “You guys don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

  “So you’ll be able to play in our last couple games of the season?” His gaze travels to the bandages covering my knuckles.

  “Ah, so that’s the real reason you came over. To make sure I could play.”

  “C’mon, you know me better than that,” he says, but he’s smiling so I know he’s not really offended.

  “My face and knuckles are a little banged up, but my pitching arm is strong. Trust me. Nothing’s keeping me from playing in our last games.”

  “Can you believe high school is almost over?” Chris’s tone is laced with awe.

  “I know.” I sit up. “But don’t worry, man. It’s not the end for us. We will always find a way to play ball together.”

  “Partners for life!” Chris uses his thug voice, but it doesn’t ring true.

  “Yeah, don’t say that when we’re out in public, okay?” I cringe. “I don’t want people thinkin’ you’re my boyfriend.”

  “Oh c’mon.” Chris puffs out his chest. “You could do a lot worse than me.”

  “I could do a lot better too.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

  Chuckling, I slug him in the shoulder. Wincing, I realize my mistake, but it’s a little too late.

  Chris laughs when I shake my hand out. “Karma, dude.”

  “Screw you.” I roll my eyes.

  “What do ya say, you prove to me that you’ve still got it.”

  I raise my brows, wondering what he’s talking about. “Are you still referring to you being my boyfriend?”

  “Dude, I know I’m hot, but it’s time to move on.”

  I shove him. This time using my palms.

  “No,” he says. “I was talking about baseball. Wanna go throw the ball around?”

  “Sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”

  Taylor

  It’s the first time I’ve even touched my board in months. But I’m out of excuses.

  Dusty’s in jail.

  I’m safe.

  So it’s time to move on.

  Besides, Cal’s been dying to see me in action. I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to show him since my belly is growing, and I don’t want to risk falling and hurting the baby. The fight with Dusty was enough for one pregnancy. I’m not sure poor Aunt Molly could survive it if I had another scare like that.

  “So this is it, huh?” Cal raises a brow when I hand him my board. It’s been almost two weeks since the night Dusty showed up here. Cal’s face is healing nicely, but there are still faint traces of bruising alon
g his cheekbone and eye. It doesn’t change how handsome he is though. If anything, it makes him even more good looking.

  “Yep.” I nod.

  “I gotta be honest, I never thought I’d be angry with an inanimate object before, but I am right now.”

  “What? Why are you angry with my board?” I narrow my eyes, confused.

  “This is the reason for your scars.” He peers up at me from where he sits on the porch swing, holding my skateboard in his lap. “This board hurt you.”

  Taking my board from him, I shake my head in mock exasperation. “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “Oh, it’s a guy, huh? That makes it even worse.” He stands, the porch swing hitting his legs as he moves from it.

  “Don’t be angry with him.” I shove out my bottom lip in a pout. “Before you came along he was the only guy who made me happy. The only guy I could count on.”

  He smiles. “Well, in that case, I guess I can forgive him.”

  I chuckle.

  “All right.” Cal rubs his palms together. “Show me what ya got.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to do much.” Reaching down, I touch my stomach which seems to grow daily now.

  “That’s okay.” He lightly brushes his hand over my arm. “Just do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

  “Okay.” I bound down the front steps of the porch, Cal at my heels. After setting down the board, I stand on it and push off. Then I step my left foot down so the board comes up, and I sweep my right foot towards the top of the board. The board lifts from the ground and then evens back out, and I cruise for a second before coming to a stop.

  “Cool.” Cal smiles. “What was that?”

  “An ollie.” I feel stupid. “It’s like one of the first tricks I learned.”

  Cal swaggers over to me. Grabbing my hands, he yanks me in his direction. The board rumbles under my feet as I glide forward, right into his arms. “You didn’t have to tell me that. I was impressed.” His lips connect with mine. “Then again, everything you do impresses me.”

  I close my fingers around his shirt, bunching the fabric in my fist. As his lips move over mine, I hold on tight to keep from sliding away. His tongue licks out over the seam of my lips until they part. Then his tongue tangles with mine. His hands slide up my back until his fingers skim the edge of my hair. It’s euphoric, mixing two of my favorite things – skateboarding and kissing.

  Literally every guy I’ve dated prior to Cal was into skateboards, and yet I’ve never kissed on one. I’m certain that if I had tried with Dusty he would’ve been angry. When he was on his board he had singular focus, and trust me, I wasn’t it.

  When our lips separate, I release Cal and my board glides backwards. Dropping my foot, I stop it.

  “Wanna try?” I ask Cal.

  “Sure.” He puffs out his chest, wearing a cocky grin.

  I hop off my board and set it in front of Cal. “Okay, go ahead and place this foot on it.” He does as he’s told, and one side of the board pops up. “Now place your other foot on the board and slide it up like this.” I show him.

  He does it. “This is a piece of cake.”

  “That’s because you’re not doing anything yet,” I tease him. “Now this time, push off on the board and then put the steps together,” I instruct him.

  “What do you mean?” He furrows his brows.

  “Ah, not so sure of yourself now, are you?” I joke. Then I shove him out of the way. “I’ll show you.” I step on the board and push off. “Okay, so I’m putting down this foot, and bringing this one up.” The board lifts. “See.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it.” Cal nods.

  I get off the board and push it toward him. He hops on and tries to emulate what I did. Only he bails. I chuckle.

  “Oh, you find that funny, huh?” He steps toward me, snaking an arm around my waist.

  “About as funny as you thought I was when I played ball with you guys.”

  “I didn’t think you were funny. I thought you were cute.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Uh-huh,” I say, unconvinced.

  “I did.” As his lips cover mine once again, I think about how glad I am that we have different interests. It allows us to be who we are; to be separate. And I like that. As much as I love being with Cal, I like knowing that I can be alone too.

  That even though I want him, I don’t need him.

  Cal

  “C’mon, man, you got this,” Chris hollers from where he’s crouched behind home plate.

  Nodding subtly, I wind up and throw the ball. It’s straight and fast. The batter swings, but misses. Third strike.

  Smiling, I watch him head back toward the dugout. My gaze sweeps the stands filled with people. Anxious energy circles the field. It’s our last game of the season, and it’s significant to everyone here. But to me it means even more than that. Today is my last high school game ever. It feels surreal. I’ve been playing ball on this field for four years. Emotion wells up in my chest, so I take a deep breath. My eyes lock in on Taylor sitting in the front row. It’s too hot to wear my jacket, so instead she’s got on one of my hats. It looks adorable sitting on top of her dark hair. She’s got it on slightly askew, but that only makes her look sexier. When she catches me looking, she flashes me a smile.

  My heart stutters.

  Only Taylor can cause a visceral reaction like this in me. Every time I look at her I feel a pull so strong I know I can’t fight it. Good thing I have no desire to. She flashes me a thumbs up, and it causes my lips to edge upward.

  The next batter takes the plate.

  “Only one more out, Cal!” Hayes shouts from over my shoulder.

  My eyes meet the batter’s, and I smile. It’s a guy I’ve been pitching against for years. He’s a cocky sucker, but he lacks the skill to back it up. I grin. “No sweat. Game’s in the bag, guys,” I speak loudly, and hear snickers behind my back as my teammates laugh.

  I glance back at the stands, my gaze honing in on Taylor. With my index finger, I point at her. “This one’s for you, baby.”

  Taylor’s face reddens. I can see it from here. She bows her head, but a small smile plays on her lips, betraying that she’s happy with the gesture. When I return my attention to the batter, I silently pray that I’m right about this. If he gets a hit off of me, I’m going to look like an idiot.

  Taking a deep breath, I get into position. Chris flashes me a sign, and I cock my arm back. The minute the ball leaves my hand, I know it’s perfect. The ball shoots over home plate. Strike one.

  Cheers erupt from the stands.

  “Two more,” Palmer calls out. “Bring it home, Cal.”

  Chris tosses the ball back to me, wearing a triumphant grin. We already know we’re going home winners. Once again, I peer over at Taylor. Not that I was ever leaving as a loser. Not with her by my side.

  She’s beaming at me, and it’s the boost I need to finish this.

  I throw the ball again. Strike two. And one last time. Strike three.

  Everything after that is a whirlwind. Everyone in the stands cheer. My teammates rally around me. Hayes and Palmer even pick me up at some point. There is a round of “atta boys” and fist bumps. Even Coach Hopkins joins in with the celebration. For once we don’t get a peptalk or critique. No need.

  The season is over.

  And as happy as I am about our win, it’s bittersweet for me.

  “Hey, man.” Chris pulls me into an awkward one-armed hug. “Weird, huh?’

  “Very,” I say, knowing he gets it.

  “Remember the first time we played on this field?”

  “Yeah, and I beaned you in the leg?” I chuckle.

  “I still bear the scar,” Chris says chagrined.

  “We’ve had a lot of good games, you and me.”

  “Best partnership ever.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “You guys aren’t gonna make out, are you?” Hayes swaggers over to us.

  “Why? Were you hoping to w
atch?” I slap him on the back.

  “Or did you want to join in?” Chris teases.

  “Yeah, you wish,” Hayes banters back.

  “Trust me, if I was gonna kiss a dude, it wouldn’t be you,” Chris shoots back.

  “Who’s gonna kiss a dude?” Josh joins the conversation.

  “We heard you were,” I say deadpan.

  Josh shakes his head. “I was coming over to say good game, but I guess I’ll pass.”

  “Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Joshy. You can tell me good game,” I say, wearing an amused grin. “In fact, you should say it, because my stellar playing made up for your shitty playing.”

  “Burn.” Hayes guffaws.

  “You’re an ass.” Josh shakes his head, turning around.

  I feel like a dick. It’s our last game. I should cut him some slack. Reaching out, I gently clamp down on his shoulder. “Nah, you didn’t suck as much as usual.”

  He shrugs off my hand, but his lips curl upward slightly. As he walks off, I spot Taylor standing at the edge of the field.

  “Excuse me, guys, but it looks like someone else wants to congratulate me. And she’s a hell of a lot hotter than any of you morons.” I shove through the guys crowding me.

  “Go get her, man,” a few of them say as they slap my back.

  “I’ve got someone waitin’ for me too,” Chris says, heading in Em’s direction. Thank god they’re far from where Taylor is. I’ve gotten past my initial aversion to them being together, but I don’t think I’ll ever like to see them making out.

  I take large strides to reach Taylor. When I do, I don’t even waste my breath with words. Instead, I curve my hands around her waist, and tug her toward me. When she gets close enough, I crush my lips to hers.

  Taylor

  I’ve sunk to a brand new low.

  I’m wearing maternity clothes. Yes, you heard that right. Maternity clothes.

  The pants have little buttons inside so I can make them bigger or smaller. It reminds me of the pants I wore back in preschool. Only now I’m sixteen, so it feels weird. I’m too old for preschool pants, but too young for maternity pants. And yet, here I am.