The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2)

by Britney M. Mills

  Motioning with his hands up and down my body, Dax chuckled. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you for a dwarf, bean pole.”

  I smacked his stomach, and the softness rippled just a bit. “No problem, Pooh Bear.”

  Knowing he wouldn’t be too excited about that remark, I took off out the door and headed down the stairs.

  Dax caught me at the front door and gave me a punch to the ribs. “Pooh Bear with fighting skills.”

  “Where are you two off to this morning?” my mom asked, towel-drying one of her pots as she walked out of the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Clark. We’re going to wake up some of the guys and head over to the diner for some breakfast before practice later. Can I steal Ben?” He put on his charmer smile.

  My mom relaxed even more. “Of course. Just make sure not to break any windows this time, got it?”

  Dax and I chuckled as we opened the door and headed out to the car. Lou’s diner had been where Jake started liking Penny, mostly because they had to work together when he’d been sentenced by his dad to pay off the debt from pushing Nate through the large front window by accident. The window was fixed, and Nate’s scars were fading already. They were just lucky it hadn’t cut his eye.

  “Is that really where we’re going?” I asked as Dax started up his car. It was small, but at least I didn’t hit my knees every time I got in. If only my dad could see the comfort something like this had for me. It wasn’t like Dax’s car was new, either. I just needed something that could fit my height.

  “Yeah, Jake had to work this morning. Might as well get breakfast while we make fun of him. We should head to the pool or something since we have a day off from practice.”

  I rested my head against the back headrest and relaxed into the seat. My thoughts turned back to Serena. The next time I saw her, I would ask her out.

  A shot of fear ran through me at the thought. Was I mentally prepared for a rejection? There had been several moments during our conversation where we’d clicked, which meant I needed to figure out why she’d stormed off in the first place. I just hoped I’d be able to keep the stuttering under control.

  Six

  Serena

  I pulled my shirt down around my middle as it had inched up during the last volley. It was officially summer, and I’d never been more excited to have the last few weeks over. I’d managed to get all my assignments done, even the extra credit papers, squeaking by with a few C’s and a couple of B-’s. My parents had barely glanced at my report card, as my father was busy reviewing tapes of his past football games and my mother was drawing patterns for her next line of clothing.

  It was still early Saturday morning, but the hot Texas sun beat down on a few of my teammates and me as we moved around in the sand. With all our tournaments over for the season, I’d gotten a few of them together, needing something to do outside of my empty house.

  Movement to the side caused me to turn, and I thought I saw Ben the Pitcher walking over by the baseball field. I’d seen him a couple of times in the halls since the play but had avoided talking to him. When I’d casually asked Penny about him, she’d done nothing but gush about what a great guy he was, that he was the perfect gentleman, just a bit shy.

  It was possible I’d overanalyzed things at the play, but with all the betrayal I still felt after dating James, it was easier just to cut my losses and not worry about guys for the foreseeable future.

  “Me! Me!” I heard Sasha call out from the side. I ran to get under the volleyball, readying my hands to set it to her. As if on automatic, my hands touched the ball for a split second as I set it behind me to her. I turned, watching as her long limbs and arms leaped from the ground and pounded the ball over the net and onto the other side of the court. The ball landed in the back corner, untouched.

  “Yes!” I fist-pumped and took two steps to give Sasha a high-five. There was nothing better than assisting a great spike. The ball rolled back under the net, and we rotated, getting ready for Jamie to serve. I wiped at the sweat beading on my forehead with the hem of my t-shirt.

  I glanced back over to the baseball field, recognizing Ben’s face as he turned around on the mound. He wore a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, accentuating the muscles in his arms. He readied himself, ball in hand, and stepped forward, throwing the ball to what looked like a flexible net he’d set up. I turned back to our game, seeing the ball just as it sailed over the net.

  The ball was knocked around a couple of times and then came back over. I set the ball again, but Mary didn’t get into position in time, having to bump it over before it hit the ground. We were up by two points, and I was soaking it up. Most of the girls on my team would be starting their summer jobs soon, and I wouldn’t get another chance at a volleyball game for at least two months, when practices and tryouts started for high school again.

  The ball dropped on our side, closing the gap by one point. I thought about the high school season, which sent my brain whirring on all the things I’d gone through to stay eligible to play. My eyes drifted back to where Ben threw pitch after pitch, the look on his face telling me he wasn’t happy about something.

  The opposing team served it over, and I refocused, getting into position to set it again. My hitter opted for a soft hit, placing it right in the hole behind the blockers at the net. Perfect.

  The ball came my way, and I moved underneath it again, only to find myself falling to the ground, a shot of pain starting in my ankle and shooting up my calf. The side of my head slammed against the sand, and for once I was grateful we weren’t on a real court. After several seconds, I repositioned my upper body to see what I’d tripped on and saw Courtney lying on the ground next to me.

  “What happened?” I asked, seeing stars in my eyes.

  “Courtney slid, and you tripped over her,” one of the girls said. Jamie came over and pulled Courtney to a standing position. She shook her head a bit as if something had been knocked loose.

  Without thinking, I stood, but a shot of pain ran up my leg starting at the ankle, and I found myself falling to the ground again. Luckily, Sasha and Tammy caught me, and I sat between the two towers, practically dangling above the sand.

  “Don’t move, Gates,” Mary said, bending over to look at the ankle. She pushed on a couple of spots, but the throbbing pain made it difficult to know what she was looking for.

  “I’ll be fine. Let me sit for a minute, and then I’ll come back in.” I’d had numerous sprained ankles since I’d started playing sports as a kid, and this felt about the same.

  She looked up at me. “Let’s get you over to the bench.” My teammates helped me off the court and onto an old wooden bench in between the sand volleyball court and the baseball field.

  “Are you sure you’re all right? That didn’t look good,” Jamie asked, hovering over me.

  I shook my head, waving them off. “Just keep playing. I’ll come back over in a minute.” I turned so I was sitting sideways, resting my leg on the bench. Leaning over, I massaged around the ankle, hoping the pain would ease up so I could get back to playing.

  The sound of balls hitting the bottom of a bucket caused me to turn toward the baseball field. Ben threw in the last few balls before toting the bucket back to the mound where he continued to throw pitch after pitch to the net. His reaction after most of them seemed more frustrated, but there was one where he fist-pumped and smiled. He was cuter than I remembered, and I found myself staring at him, wondering how long he would continue to practice. I knew I was slightly obsessed with my sport, but he was taking this to a whole other level.

  Thirty minutes later, the girls left the court and walked over to me.

  “I think we’re done, Serena. Do you need help getting to your car?” Mary asked, squatting down so I could see her without tilting my head back so far. “Or even just give you a ride home?”

  I shook my head. “My car is in the shop, so I ran here. I’ll be fine. My ankle feels a lot better already.” I’d been so absorbed in w
hat Ben was doing on the baseball field that I’d forgotten about the dull throbbing in my ankle. I stood, catching myself on the back of the bench.

  “Let’s carry her to the car. We’ve still got time before I have to be home for my parents’ party tonight.” Courtney bent down with her hands out, ready to help scoop me up.

  Waving my hands at them, I said, “I’m really okay. You all have things you have to do anyway. My dad said he’d be done at the gym by now, so I’ll just call him.”

  “Serena, it’s not a big deal. We can drive a couple miles to your house.” The line in Mary’s forehead was nothing compared to the frown of her lips.

  I debated whether I should let them take me home, but at the same time, it would be a good excuse to have my dad come get me. I hadn’t seen him in days as practice for the NFL would begin in four weeks, which meant he was training extra to make sure he lasted the season with little to no injuries. Playing in his later thirties meant time was ticking on his contract and his pro-football shelf life, while he tended to forget that I wouldn’t be around forever either.

  “Just go. Seriously, I’ll get my dad to come. He’ll be traveling soon, so it’ll be a good chance to bond.” I almost laughed at the idea of Steve Gates bonding with anyone that wasn’t holding a pigskin.

  “Okay, you have our number in case you need it,” Jamie said, patting me on the shoulder. “Let’s go. I’ve got to get some water.”

  Even in the shade, I hadn’t felt much relief from the rising temperature. The girls walked away, and I opened up my phone, seeing a message from my mother.

  I’m so sorry, baby. We had some problems at the photoshoot. I probably won’t be home to go to lunch like we’d planned. Raincheck? Call me when you’re done with your thing.

  Volleyball had always been a thing to her. I had moments of being a girly girl where I liked to get dressed up, but that was very rarely when my mom could see it. She’d tried to get me to wear her line of clothing countless times over the last couple of years, hoping my style of sports gear would change. There were a few items I didn’t mind wearing that she’d designed, but I wasn’t going to let her know that.

  Getting injured in my favorite sport wasn’t something I could tell her. I’d lost count of the number of times she and my father had argued over playing volleyball as opposed to taking piano or some kind of dance class. That was about the only time my father really had anything to say about my extracurriculars, which I was grateful for.

  I pulled up my dad’s number and dialed. “Please don’t be at the gym. Please answer.” I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if he couldn’t pick me up. With the amount of pain running from my ankle up to my kneecap now, I knew I wasn’t going to make it the three miles home.

  “Hey, kid. How was the tournament?”

  “No tournament, Dad. It was just a friendly game of sand volleyball.” I paused, breathing out in the hopes he’d be nearby. “But, I, uh, I got hurt.”

  A short pause met my ears before he said, “Did you get back in there and play?”

  Leave it to the professional athlete to challenge the amount of pain I was feeling right now. “I can barely stand on it. Are you close? I ran here, and Mom is at her photoshoot until late.”

  “Yeah, I’m at the gym. Are you at Grover Park?”

  “Yes. Just hanging out on a bench between the volleyball court and the baseball field.” Too late, I wished I wouldn’t have said anything about baseball.

  He growled. “Baseball. What a waste of a sport.” He paused, the grunt signaling that he was trying to lift while still talking to me on the phone. “Let me just pack up here. We’ll figure out what to tell your mom on the drive over. See you in a few, kid.” He hung up, and I breathed out a sigh. At least I wouldn’t be stuck there for the rest of the day.

  I turned, surprised to find the mound vacant of its former pitcher. Searching the field, I found him behind one of the dugouts, probably putting his gear away.

  When he stood, he flicked his head to move the blond hair out of his face before he adjusted the hat on top of it. He picked up a bat bag and bucket of baseballs he’d been throwing with, walking in my direction.

  He must have been focused on something because he didn’t see me as he walked past. It didn’t help that I’d turned my head, covering my face with my hand. With the pain increasing in my leg, I wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

  I waited several moments before sitting back up and glancing around. A truck was still in the parking lot, but there was no one else in the park. Footsteps rustled the grass behind me, and I jumped, surprised to see Ben carrying the net he’d been using.

  “Serena?” he said, pausing a few feet away.

  My cheeks warmed, and I gave him a half-smile and waved. “Hey.” So much for dodging that one.

  “I didn’t see you there. H-have you been here a while?” Ben stepped forward, leaning his hand on the end of the bench and staring at me with those deep blue eyes.

  “Um, yeah. I was playing volleyball with my friends. I’m just waiting for my dad to come pick me up.”

  He looked down and must have seen my hand rubbing at my ankle. “Are you all right? It looks like your ankle is double the size of the other one.”

  I searched his face for any sign of teasing but only found sympathy there. I glanced down, startling when I saw that instead of the slender ankle I was used to, I was staring at a cankle, blue and black already appearing despite my tan skin.

  “What happened?” Ben asked, taking a seat at the other end of the bench. “You probably should have left your shoe on.” He glanced down, lightly touching the area with his long fingers.

  I’d be lying if I said I felt nothing from his touch. Was it because I hadn’t talked to a guy in weeks? But this was the same tingling I’d felt when our hands touched at the theater.

  Studying his expression, I leaned my side against the back of the bench and smiled a bit. Was he actually worried about me? I tried to reconcile this guy with the one who’d been sick of talking to me at the play a few weeks ago. Had I just misjudged him? I shifted, feeling uncomfortable under his piercing gaze when he looked up at me. I was resigned to the fact that I was stuck there until my father remembered about his offspring.

  Pursing my lips as I tried to come up with a snarky comment to his question, which didn’t happen, I said, “Just a volleyball injury. I tripped over one of my teammates and came down on it pretty hard. I thought I’d be fine after a few minutes of rest, but I’m still here.” I stretched my arms out at my sides to emphasize my words. Why I was still talking to this boy, I had no idea. It wasn’t like he was a doctor who could diagnose my injury.

  “Those are never fun. Hopefully, it’s just a sprain.” The sincerity in his voice threw me for a loop. The second nice thing he’d said. Did he have a hidden agenda? Or was this just Ben?

  “Yeah, I was hoping that too. My mom will go a little crazy when she finds out and will probably drag me to the hospital. I’m sure they’ll just tell me to come back again when the swelling has gone down.”

  I heard a laugh and turned to find Ben’s smile wide, his eyes twinkling.

  “I take it you’re familiar with hospitals, then?” he asked, pulling his knees to his chest. He draped his arms over them and turned to look at me, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to breathe.

  “Maybe. My dad has gotten a few injuries over the years, so I’m getting fairly good at predicting what the diagnosis will be.”

  Ben motioned with his thumb behind him to the truck. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  My attention moved up to Ben’s face. I shook my head, not even entertaining the idea. “My dad said he would be here. Still just waiting for him to show up.” I looked down the nearly empty parking lot and sighed, wishing I could just go back to that moment in the sand and avoid Courtney’s leg. Then I’d be almost home from a good run, ready to enjoy a bubble bath and maybe even a pint of ice cream right now.

  Without saying anything,
Ben reached over and took my phone from my hand.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, gritting my teeth. I tried to think of why he would need my phone or even what he’d be looking for. Nothing exciting there; that was for sure.

  His thumbs tapped the screen several times before he handed it back to me. I looked down at my phone, seeing the message screen up. The word Hi was on the screen with Ben Clark at the top. He’d given me his number? And then texted himself to get my number. Original.

  “If you need a ride, just call or text. I have to run something to my mom’s friend a few blocks over, but if your dad isn’t here anytime soon, just let me know. I’ve got room in my truck.”

  He gave me a small smile as he stood, hesitating for several moments. “You left your candy at the play. Was everything okay?” His eyebrows rose, waiting for an answer.

  I debated whether or not to spill it. “I just thought I’d bugged you with all my chatter, and then you said, ‘Finally,’ and it just triggered some memories from my past.”

  A deep line formed in his forehead, and he shook his head. “You definitely weren’t bugging me. I like hearing about your life. It had been a long day anyway, and I kind of wanted the play to be done so I could talk to you after.”

  Searching his face, I only saw sincerity. “You wanted to keep talking to me?”

  “Yeah,” he said, shifting his feet. He looked like he wanted to say more but settled on, “Let me know if you need anything.”

  With a quick wave, he turned, and I watched him walk away, maybe admiring the back of him a little too much. It was a relief that I’d misread the situation at the play.

  A few seconds later, my dad’s cherry red Lamborghini pulled up. “Hey, doll! Let me help you out there.” My dad jumped out and ran around to my side, lifting me by my arms and practically dumping me into the car. That’s what happened when he was six-foot-six and nearly three hundred pounds. I just wished he’d gifted me more of his height.