Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1)

by Bri Izzo

  “Hi sweetie! You look like you need a drink,” a tall, lanky brunette girl throws her arm around me in a greeting, pulling me towards the wet bar in the basement.

  “Oh, uhh… sure,” I accept. “I’m Bianca.”

  “I know,” she tells me with a smile that says she knows everyone and everything.

  “You know?” I question her. I can’t say I know her or even recognize her from anywhere.

  “Yeah. I’ve just heard about you. Nothing bad,” she brushes me off. “I’m Makenna, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I casually reply, closely examining how much alcohol she’s putting in my drink. Usually I make my own concoctions; Chase taught me how to make the perfect vodka and soda mixer. “So do you know who’s house this is?”

  “It’s mine,” she informs me with a proud grin and hair flip. Her long, silky brown hair put my rags to shame. I would kill to have hair like that. “If you need to sleepover tonight you can. My parents won’t mind.”

  “Are they home?” I wonder curiously. It’s weird to be in someone’s house where alcohol is easily accessible.

  “Yeah, they’re asleep. I gave them earplugs before I left for the dance,” she cheerfully explains. Wow… I can’t tell if that’s awesome or just totally stupid of them. “C’mon. Let’s go play some drinking games!”

  Makenna grabs my hand and leads me through one room and into the next where a ping pong table is set up for beer pong. Some people I recognize from school that are in my brother’s class are in the middle of a game, so we linger on the sideline until they dramatically finish. When we step up to take the losers’ places, I receive some questionable looks from the crowd. A few are from some of Rex’s acquaintances, and at first I’m a little nervous to be in the spotlight while drinking, but eventually I stop caring and their faces soften into only a slight disbelief that Perfect Rex’s little sister is a daredevil.

  I pretty much sweep the other team by myself, but I step aside to let a whole new group of people play when Makenna and I finish.

  Just as I’m about to leave the side room, Chase comes up from behind me and whispers, “Hey, Bianca,” and wraps an arm across my stomach.

  “Hey, have you been drinking already?” I wonder, hoping it doesn’t sound too motherly. I really am just curious because I don’t smell anything on him but he sounds tipsy.

  “No… can’t I just be excited to see you? I lost you for like an hour,” he scowls, releasing his hold on me.

  “Yeah, Makenna grabbed me to be her partner for beer pong,” I explain, reaching for his hand. When my fingers brush his and then clench tightly, his eyes light up in question. It’s very unusual for me to be showing public affection to him, and we both know it.

  “How many have you had?” he asks me, clearly noticing my flirty banter.

  “Just a couple,” I tell him. I’m just tipsy - no where near drunk like the first time he came over to drink with Tiffany and me.

  “Tiffany was looking for you a few minutes ago upstairs,” Chase blurts out.

  Admiring his loose athletic shorts and unbuttoned dress shirt, I tease, “Was it urgent, or do you think she can wait… a half hour?”

  “Depends why you’re making her wait,” he chuckles, yanking my hand towards him so my whole body jerks closer. Our lips are still a few inches apart, but we both know where it’s headed - to a room where no one can see us.

  “Is that bedroom empty?” I nod towards the next door over that’s wide open with the lights off. He raises his eyebrows at me and tries to hide his growing smile but fails miserably.

  “If it’s not, I’ll kick out whoever is in there,” he decides, leading me into the room. He shuts the door before flipping the light switch on, sees we’re alone, locks the door, and shuts the lights off again. He reaches for my side and moves me closer to his chest. Unlike Skyler who towers over me, Chase is only a few inches taller than me so I don’t have to work as hard to find his lips in the darkness. He lets me have one short kiss, but then he whispers, “Bianca…” This makes me push back, but my eyes are still adjusting to the darkness so I can’t see him very well. We meet again and kiss for a few minutes, and by then my eyes adjust enough to see him questioningly looking at me when he breaks our lips apart.

  “What, Chase?” I press, wondering why he stopped kissing me when he was so ready to kick someone out of the room a few minutes ago.

  “You’re thinking about him,” he states, and I can see the disappointment in his eyes. His mind is already made up: nothing is happening between us tonight.

  “Um… I wasn’t actually,” I admit with a giggle. He ruined the moment all on his own; for the first time in a while Skyler wasn’t running through my head.

  “I can tell. I’m just gonna go,” he tells me, letting go of me and turning around to open the door. When he does, everyone in the outside room stops to stare at him, shirt unbuttoned and probably a frustrated expression upon his face, and waits for me to follow him. So I do. And instead of being embarrassed, I walk past him, brushing my arm against his, and make my way upstairs to the kitchen where Tiffany is sitting with Chloe.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Tiffany exclaim when she sees me.

  “Downstairs,” I reply vaguely. I’m not sure if she’s mad or not, so telling her I’m drinking and almost hooked up with Chase isn’t on my to do list just yet.

  “I don’t even know whose house this is, so we were thinking we should leave and go to my house for the night,” she suggests. Luckily she and Chloe are also dressed in t-shirts like me, not trying to impress anyone. It was Chase’s idea to come here even though we clearly don’t fit in with the crowd.

  “It’s Makenna’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly like I actually knew the girl before she greeted me a while ago and made me a drink.

  “Who’s Makenna?” Chloe wonders as she crosses her arms over her chest.

  “I don’t know exactly, but she seemed nice,” I decides.

  “You’re going to love this,” Tiffany announces with a light hearted chuckle. My heart races in anticipation; I can tell by the look on her face I am not going to love whatever she says. “Makenna is the girl Skyler brought to the cabin on the Fourth of July.”

  16 Skyler Swanson

  I’m casually sipping on a drink while talking to Makenna and Leah on the couch when I see Chase Morgan open up one of the doors from inside a dark bedroom. And a second later Buzz follows him out and storms upstairs. Neither of them look pleased, but I hold my breath on determining whether or not they just hooked up behind that door. They better not have. I will flip the fuck out. I set my drink on the coffee table and trail Buzz’s steps upstairs to find out for sure. When I climb the stairs I catch the back half of the conversation among her, Tiffany, and another girl.

  “And who’s Makenna?” the unknown girl asks.

  “I don’t know exactly, but she seemed nice,” Buzz tells her. Fuck! Buzz met Makenna? This can’t be happening.

  “You’re going to love this,” Tiffany teases. No! Shut the fuck up, Tiffany! Don’t tell her! I try entering the room as soon as I hear her lead into telling Buzz who Makenna is, but I’m not quick enough to stop her. “Makenna is the girl Skyler brought to the cabin on the Fourth of July.” I stand a few feet behind Buzz as she hears the connection, and I watch Tiffany’s face scrunch up in fear, probably for me and Buzz both attacking her.

  A moment of silence takes over, but then Buzz chokes out, “What?” Tiffany’s eyebrows heighten as she shoots me a look like I’m the one who needs to clarify what she fucking said. That’s when Buzz turns around and finally notices my presence.

  “Buzz,” I try to say, but she cuts me off.

  “Sky? When did you get here?” she wonders.

  “A little while ago,” I inform her. I can’t tell if she’s more pissed about being in the girl’s house that I brought with to the cabin or that she and I are at the same after-party.

  “I guess it makes sense,” she half-laughs wh
ile rolling her eyes. It sucks to have her look at me like that, like I’m suddenly in the group of people that’s let her down time and time again. I don’t want to be classified like that in her life.

  “Can I talk to you?” I beg nicely before she has the chance to run off again. I had no idea she and Chase were coming to this after party; neither of them hang out with Makenna as far as I know. There was no way for me to predict this fucking horrible scenario playing out.

  “Not if it’s about her,” she snaps, her gorgeously angry eyes looking at me with the worst betrayal present. I can’t even blame her for being so fucking mad. She has every right; it’s a fucked up situation brought upon her by yours truly.

  “Just come fucking talk to me,” I demand, not willing to put up with her shutting me out again. I lightly grab her arm and pull her onto the patio outside of the kitchen.

  Shaking me off of her, she snickers, “What is it, Sky? What’s so God damn urgent that you had to talk to me?”

  “Please stop with this shit,” I plead, trying to hold in my frustration.

  “What shit? Shit that you put me through?” she cries out. If it wasn’t for the loud music seeping through the basement windows, the whole ranch country neighborhood would hear her. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

  “And I can’t believe I saw you walk out of a fucking dark bedroom with Chase Morgan. Tell me nothing happened,” I command angrily, shifting the subject off me and onto her. It’s a little unfair, but it’s more relevant. Makenna and I were never anything, and I haven’t even seen her in weeks. Buzz just walked out of a fucking bedroom with my enemy.

  “Oh my God! Nothing happened!” she tells me in a screeching whine. I feel more like she sees me as her brother right now rather than her old best friend or crush, and it fucking kills me. “He was mad because he thought I was thinking about you instead of him.”

  What? No way. How could he assume that? I want to run sprints to surrender my apprehension right now. But I can’t get too far ahead. Those thoughts easily could just be in Chase’s stupid head.

  “Okay,” I state calmly, which pisses her off even more.

  “Okay? OKAY?” she shouts, throwing her arms into the air. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”

  “I mean, I believe you,” I clarify, lightly brushing my hands over her wrists. She’s fuming up top and barely even notices my touch. Great, I don’t even have an effect on her anymore. See, Chase was wrong.

  “Why?” she blurts out.

  “You’ve never given me a reason to doubt you,” I explain, watching her shoulders slacken. She’s starting to relax out of her temper tantrum. Her eyes are still angry, but when she finally realizes my hands are on her she stops fidgeting.

  “Yes I have,” she disagrees. Hearing her voice weaken as I bring her into my chest so I can wrap both of my arms around her makes me lose my fucking mind. Why can’t we just be together? I just want to pick her up and see her be strong again. Chase is slowly shaving her confidence away.

  “No, you haven’t,” I argue. “God, can’t you see what’s really pissing me off?”

  A gust of wind flows past us as she tightens closer to me yet. She finally wraps an arm around me to compromise, and it feels damn good even if it’s half-assed. “No,” Buzz admits quietly. She has been so caught up in me bringing a girl up to the cabin and being with Chase that she’s totally missed my signals I’ve been trying to send her. Key word is trying; I would rather have her as a friend than lose her completely because I’m too pushy.

  “Damn it, Buzz. I can’t do this,” I resolve, disliking that I have to let this go. Whatever she’s doing with Chase is still something, and I can’t tell her how I fucking feel because it’s too selfish. She needs to come to me on her own terms, not because I pick her up after the guy she likes leaves her alone at a party. I release my arms and step back from her against the magnetic force between us.

  “I’m sorry that I don’t understand,” she apologizes in a small voice. Avoiding looking at me, she turns away to head back inside the house so she’s not going to be the one who’s left out here alone.

  “No. Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault,” I confess, frustratedly running my hand through my hair and pulling on it to relieve a little stress. I could have her in my arms all fucking night, and instead I ruin it. I’m my own worst enemy.

  She nods and continues towards the door before I call out to her, “Buzz…” Her ponytail flips and hits her in the side of the head as she turns to acknowledge me. Confusion and humiliation resinate on her face, and I hate it. “I’m sorry… my offer still stands. If you need anything tonight, just let me know.”

  Buzz never called me. I have no idea where she ended up, but I saw Chase Morgan later in the night at Makenna’s house, and he was alone, so I assume that she left. Tiffany and the other girl appear to be gone also, and I sigh in relief once I realize it. It’s not that I don’t want them at the same party as me and my friends; I just don’t want Buzz with Chase or any other guy.

  Things between Buzz and me don’t get better like I hoped they would after homecoming. She’s still hanging out with Chase but luckily I don’t have to see them. It seems like every time Alex comes to my house it’s because the two of them are at his house, and he doesn’t like it anymore than I do. He never says much about them. A simple, “Chase is over again,” and we move on to other topics. I feel the sorrow in his eyes when he tells me. It’s like he thinks she’s my fucking girl who got away. I guess she kind of is but I blame him, personally. He had no problem telling me to back off and then let Chase Morgan just waltz right in and fuck up everything. He’s pitying me, but I keep telling myself it’s a matter of time before this charade ends. And the second it does and she ends up in my arms, Alex will go back to his disapproving glares.

  During the second half of the school year while it’s still snowing outside, the baseball and softball teams hold an open gym together so we can all practice for the upcoming tryouts. I watch Buzz as she hits in the batting cage and her future coaches nod approvingly. Wait til they see her pitch. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Buzz be really nervous for something. She wants to make Junior Varsity so badly that anyone in the gym can see it on her face. But they probably all see it as determination; I know her better. There’s real nerves there, too. That line across her forehead isn’t a result of her focus.

  I want to catch for her for the first time she pitches in front of everyone, which will end up making a big scene that a baseball player wants to catch for a softball player. But she deserves to be in the spotlight, so that’s the idea. Luckily as Buzz is about to step up for her turn on the pitching plate, the varsity catcher goes into the batting cage. She looks around like a lost squirrel as she waits for a catcher, so I step up. I haven’t caught for her in a little while, but I know she has to have been practicing and will be more than ready for her debut.

  “I’ll catch for her,” I volunteer. All of our coaches turn and give me questionable looks, but I don’t care. She would fucking break the hand of whatever poor girl catches for her if I don’t. I grab the softball catcher’s mitt and take my stance. Alex and Benny look on from across the gym, but for once they aren’t upset while looking at us. Instead, they’re intrigued.

  Buzz, on the other hand, seems pissed. I glare hard at her, and she relaxes her shoulders and takes her stance on the pitching plate. We’ve been working on her pitching all off season except the most recent few weeks. I think she wanted to do this part of tryouts on her own. Too bad for her, I guess.

  Her first pitch is clearly just a warm-up because it glides nicely into my glove with no heat. After four warm-ups, I nod at her as if to say “step it up.” And then the gunshot from the night I first blind folded Buzz at the park sounds, and the whole gym goes silent.

  “Sixty-eight,” an assistant coach calls out from behind the pitch speedometer. Whispers hiss among the coaches as I throw the ball back to her. I force my face into a stern expression b
ut underneath I’m beaming with pride for her.

  Buzz looks more nervous to throw her second real pitch than she did for the first one. Maybe it’s the expectation that she can’t do it again or maybe it’s that she can. It also could be every single set of eyes in the gym, guys’ and girls’, staring at her awaiting her next pitch.

  It’s perfect. A heated idealistic curve ball. No one in high school could hit that. Not even a guy. It comes in high and falls perfectly over the plate; it’s a pitch that would fake out anyone.

  And then Chase Morgan whistles at her from across the gym. God I fucking hate him. He walks in late and then takes her immediate attention. I walk the ball back to her so I can do some private coaching and hopefully get her fucking mind off of him.

  “How’s the arm?” I ask her in a quiet voice. After Chase’s whistle sounds, a humming of conversations pick back up in the gym again, but I still don’t want anyone nearby to hear what I’m saying.

  “Good,” she answers, nerves still showing on her face. “What do they all think?” She wants this so badly.

  Since her coaches were behind her to see if she was throwing strikes or balls, she hasn’t seen their facial expressions when she was throwing heat. “They think what I think: you’re amazing,” I tell her and then let out a small laugh. “But I don’t think you’ll be pitching for batting practice.”

  “What? Why not? I can slow it down,” she persists. She wants to do it all.

  “That’s true,” I realize. God she’s talented. When I see her passionate eyes dart back towards Chase, I continue, “Can you still focus? They want to see a few more.”