“Thank you,” he whispered, turning back to the water.
I moved my hand over, placing it in his lap. As we sat there, enjoying the sound of the water, I realized this was the first time I’d ever held hands with a guy. His skin was rough, callused in some spots, but his fingers were long, almost touching my wrist as they intertwined with mine. Most of all, I was happy.
“I get your relationship with your dad. My problems come mostly from my mom. I think she wishes I was more of a girly girl, someone who just wants to go shopping and talk about clothes all the time. I mean, I don’t mind doing that every once in a while, but I kind of wish she’d get excited about what I like every once in a while too.”
Ben scooted closer, letting go of my hand and wrapping it around my back. “I’m sorry, Serena. If you ever need to, you can vent about it to me.”
The end of my fishing pole bent, causing the line to go taut.
“I think we’ve got something!” he said, scooting closer to me. He put his other hand over mine as we turned the lever, reeling in the line. He moved it at a decent speed as the pole bent a little more every few seconds.
“Pull back like this,” he said, guiding my arms as we pulled the line in. He helped me put my arms back down and said, “Okay, keep reeling it in.”
He stretched for the net near the corner of the dock and leaned over the water as I kept reeling. Soon enough, he scooped up what looked like a bass. Even I knew that, and I had no experience with fish.
Ben lifted the net up with the fish hopping around in it. “Look at that! You caught your first fish.”
I was more excited than I thought I’d be. “Is it a big one?”
“He looks to be a good size. Let’s get him off so we can throw him back.” Ben’s forehead creased as he focused on the line.
“Throw him back? We just spent all that time to catch him. You don’t want to keep it?” I was surprised at my sudden protectiveness of something so slimy and wet.
Ben chuckled. “You caught it, so you get to decide what you do with it. But if you keep it, you’ll have to clean it.”
“Like cut it open and stuff?”
When he nodded, I swallowed hard and shook my head. “I’m good. Let the fish live.”
We both laughed at that, and I studied Ben as I watched him hold the fish with one hand, working the line loose in the other. He was such a nice guy, and I found myself wondering if I even measured up.
But then I thought about the flaws he’d just admitted to me and the quirks I had. Maybe we were a lot more alike than I originally thought.
Ben freed the fish but must have cut himself on the hook because he tensed up, losing the fish from his hand. The fish flopped on the deck several times, and I jumped back, accidentally kicking it back into the water. I let out a nervous laugh but saw blood coming from Ben’s left pointer finger.
His whole body shook, his gaze frozen on the scratch. It took a minute for me to realize he wasn’t going to move. I grabbed a paper napkin from the bag and reached over, wrapping the square around the cut. Blood seeped through it easily, and I shifted the paper over, wrapping it tightly around the wound.
“Uh, thanks,” he said, looking between my face and where my hand was holding his finger. “I’m not very good with my own blood.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not worried about it.” We sat in silence for a minute or two, and I peeled back the napkin to see how much damage the hook had done to his finger. It was deeper than I’d thought at first, but I could only see it when I wiped away the blood every few seconds. Thankfully, it wasn’t his pitching hand.
Wrapping it back up, I said, “We’re going to need some medical supplies. Hold this here, and we’ll walk to the car.”
My pole was ready to go, so I reeled Ben’s in quickly. I scooped up the bag with the leftover food and grabbed the blanket as I followed him down the dock.
“Here, let me help you with something,” Ben said, letting go of the napkin. It unraveled, and I shook my head.
“It’s not that far. Keep that tight until we get something to wrap around it.” I lengthened my stride, knowing that juggling two fishing poles, a bag of food, and a large blanket that wasn’t folded would only get heavier if I walked slowly.
Ben followed, his face pale and worry etched around his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe—I’m so sorry,” he kept saying. I wanted to comfort him, but my main goal right then was to get to his car.
Once we made it to the parking lot, I opened the trunk, dumping the blanket and bag inside. I had to pull the poles apart to fit inside the trunk, but once that happened, I slammed the door.
“Give me the keys,” I said, looking up into Ben’s light blue eyes. They were stormy now like he was fighting some internal battle.
“I can drive,” he said, sounding more like a robot than his normal self.
I shook my head, palm out as I waited for the keys. “I know it’s just a cut on your finger, but my ankle is fine, and this way you can keep it covered until we find some bandages.”
He finally relented, pulling the keys out of his pants pocket and handing them to me. I opened the door for him, and he slid in, frustration in his expression.
I moved the seat forward enough to reach the pedals and started the car. “Okay, direct me to your house.”
It only took a few minutes until we were pulling into his driveway. His house was nice—nothing near the size of mine, but with Penny’s and Brynn’s houses being smaller than mine, I was used to it. And it wasn’t like a mansion of a house could make anyone feel more at home. I knew that better than anyone.
I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car, walking over to where Ben now stood.
He glanced at an SUV in the driveway, and his face fell. “Y-you don’t have to stay. I, uh, feel bad that this is how our date went.”
Ben avoided my eyes, and I moved to stand in his line of sight. “You’re fine. Let’s get you inside and make sure you have everything you need.”
He walked with me toward the front porch, his steps wooden as he moved forward. As he opened the door, I tried to figure out what was wrong besides a small cut on his finger. He couldn’t be going into shock, right? There hadn’t been quite that much blood. Was he worried about something?
I saw his mother walking down the hallway and called out, “Mrs. Gates, do you have some Band-Aids and ointment? Ben cut his finger on the fishing hook.”
She turned and surveyed the two of us. “Yes, let me grab it. You two have a seat in the kitchen.”
Seventeen
Ben
Of course, all this would be happening to me. I’d done a lot of work to make sure our date went off without a hitch, and here I was, acting like a statue because of a little blood. I could stomach it on other people just fine, but when it came to seeing the red liquid coming out of my limb or appendage, it was too much.
My mom came back with the first aid kit, opening it. Serena reached over her and pulled out ointment, a bandage, and some white tape. Without saying anything, she removed the napkin from my finger and opened a small white package to wipe the area around the cut with the cool wipe.
She applied the ointment and then two bandages, finishing it off with the white tape to keep it all secure. “There you go. Now you should be good.” She pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and opened the bottle. She shook out two pills into her palm and moved it over to me. “Take these to help.”
I took a glass of water my mom had filled and swallowed the pills, hitting my chest to make sure they went down.
“That’s impressive, Serena. You look like you’ve worked with injuries quite a bit. Are you a CNA?”
Pink rushed to Serena’s cheeks, and she looked more bashful than I’d ever seen her. “No, I just, well, my dad plays football, and he always has cuts or small wounds that need cleaning out. I used to do that a lot when I was little. He’d sit and wait for me to get it all done and then, and then, yeah.” She looked like she wan
ted to say something else but stopped herself.
“You have the patience to be a nurse; that’s for sure.” My mom beamed at her, and Serena looked even more surprised than before. “I always wanted to be a nurse as a young girl. But then I got older and realized I was pretty good at planning out food for a party.”
I smiled, pointing to my mom. “She owns a catering business, MC Catering.”
“Really?” Serena said, looking at my mom for confirmation. “I’ve heard great things about your company. I think you’ve catered a couple of parties my parents have gone to.”
“It’s a lot of work, but my friend and I make it work so we can be moms too.” She smiled at us. “Lee and Daniel just left in the SUV, and I need to finish cleaning upstairs. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Now that the blood on my finger was hidden, the panic had eased somewhat, and I said, “You’d be great at nursing. You didn’t freak out once, like I did.”
“Thanks,” was all she could say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
My mom turned to walk back down the hall, and Serena glanced around. “Where did your dad take Daniel?”
“He goes to therapy on Monday nights.” I rubbed my hands on my shorts, trying to make the sweating stop. The throb in my finger had started to ebb thanks to some ibuprofen. I didn’t want to look at her because I knew I’d find disappointment there. What a waste of a date. “I should probably get you home.”
“Yeah, we can hang out another day when you haven’t hooked yourself,” she said, chuckling.
I tried to smile, but all of the mistakes I’d made that evening fought for my attention, and I knew dwelling on them now would only make things worse.
The drive over to her house was quiet, and Serena asked several questions, but I wasn’t in the mood to chat. I just needed the night to be over so I could slowly work my way through the humiliation of what had happened on the date. At least I wouldn’t have to see her again until school started. Maybe by then, I wouldn’t feel like such a dork.
Eighteen
Serena
I kept trying to get Ben to talk on the drive to my house. The poor guy looked like he’d screwed up Christmas or something.
Once we pulled into the driveway, I smiled at him. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Yeah, for the whole dorky idea. Maybe we should have just gone on Nate’s boat like the guys suggested.” His lips pinched together, and red splotches appeared on his neck and cheeks. He avoided looking at me, and I wished there was a way to get through to him that this had actually been a fun night. Probably the best date I’d ever had, even with all the drama added in.
I’d never seen him so defeated, and without thinking, I reached over and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a few seconds.
I leaned back, tipping his head up so I could look into his eyes. “Ben, I much preferred the dock to a boat. It was fun and thoughtful. Things happen, and you’ll be fine. Let’s do something this week, maybe one night after I’m done with therapy.”
He nodded and gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reflect on the rest of his face.
I reached over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. I’d never had someone who cared about my happiness enough to worry about whether a date had gone wrong or not.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he said glumly. He fiddled with the knobs on the radio, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to leave or stay.
I rested my head back against the headrest and laughed. When I stopped, I looked over at him. His expression was curious and a little confused, his eyebrows cinched together. “No, really. I’ve never been on an actual planned-out date before. And this one was so much fun, even though you got hurt, which I’m sorry about.”
He leaned his head down to rest on the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted everything to be perfect.”
Irritation seeped into my chest, and I clenched my fists for several seconds, trying to decide what to do.
“Ben. Ben?” I said, waiting for him to look at me. When he did, I leaned forward, pressing my lips quickly to his. That same spark I felt when holding his hand tingled through my lips. He’d frozen like a statue at first, but then he relaxed, his hand moving to cup my cheek. A sound came from his phone, and I pulled back, feeling the heat rising at being so forward.
I’d kissed a few guys over the last two years, some of the guys all the girls in school wanted to hang out with, but the simple kiss I shared with Ben was hands above all of them. Maybe even combined.
I glanced at Ben, whose eyes were glassy as a small smile played on his lips. “What was that for?” he asked.
With a shrug, I said, “I just wanted to. Now, will you stop beating yourself up? You’re the first guy to ask me on a real date, and I care that you’re all right. Dates don’t have to be perfect to be fun.”
He finally sat back, chuckling, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll try. Thanks, Serena.”
“For what?”
“For being you.”
I paused, surprised at his words. I’d always thought that being me was what pushed people away, except for Penny, Kate, and Brynn of course.
“I’ll text you,” I said, slipping out of the car and waving before I went into the house.
Once inside the house, I was surprised by the smell of baked goods and garlic, not necessarily together. Walking into the kitchen, I saw our cook, Liza, stirring something in a pot.
“Hey, Liza, what’s going on?” I stared at the counters overflowing with rolls and pastries, cupcakes and cookies. I was the only one who usually ate anything like that, as both my parents were very strict about their diet.
“Ah, Serena, how was your day?” The older woman smiled, her round cheeks rosy from the heat of the stove.
I slid onto one of the barstools and leaned onto the countertop. “It was pretty good. I just got back from a date with Ben the Pitcher.”
Liza’s eyebrow rose. “Is that his name?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No, he’s just really good at baseball, so that’s what my friends have called him for a while. He’s really sweet and fun, except when he cuts his finger open.”
“What?” Liza looked at me with a shocked expression, trying to figure out if I was teasing or not. I tended to do that with her, as she tended to overreact. But then again, I told her just about everything in my life. She was the one I saw the most in this house, even though she only came in a few days a week.
“He just caught it on a hook.” I waved at the platters of food and asked again, “What’s all this for?”
Liza took a deep breath, giving a slight shake of the head. “Your mother has a fashion show tomorrow night. I’ve been baking all day, trying to get ready for it. I just need to box most of it up so it will still be good for tomorrow.” She pointed to the pot. “I’m making chicken alfredo for dinner, so I hope you have some appetite left.”
As if in response, my stomach growled. It had already been two hours since I’d eaten the sandwich, and true to form, I was still hungry.
“Can I help you put these all away? Where are the boxes?”
Liza looked at me, her brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
I laughed and waved her off. “I know, I know. I’m not usually the most helpful person in the world. But maybe that needs to change.” I thought about Mrs. Gates’s statement about me being a good nurse. Maybe that’s what had spurred a little change tonight. Maybe I had hope for the future, something I actually wanted to do that would be fun.
Liza pointed me in the direction of the boxes, and I pulled one out, tucking in some of the corners to where they needed to be to hold their shape. As I carefully picked up cupcakes and set them side by side in the box, I said, “Do you think I would make a good nurse, Liza?”
There was a pause, and I waited to hear the worst. When it came to Liza, she always spoke the truth, though she could deliver it in a way that didn’t make me feel like I was a horrible per
son.
“Serena, I think you would make an incredible nurse. You’ve always taken care of your dad when he’s had injuries. And you’re quick in the science area. You should look into some classes to start preparing for it if that’s what you want to do.”
Excitement filled my chest. The thought of becoming a nurse felt more right than anything I’d done in my life up to this point.
“I think I’ll do just that.”
Nineteen
Serena
“Serena? Serena.” I heard my mother’s voice and opened one eye, not ready to be waking up.
“What?” I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. I could see a sliver of bright light through the blinds, and I knew it was already late in the day. I’d been up late researching things on nursing but was sad that I wouldn’t be able to start anything like that until I was eighteen. At least my birthday was coming up in a few weeks to speed up the process.
A hand touched my shoulder, shaking it softly. “I need your help, Rena.”
I rolled over, rubbing my eyes. They felt like sandpaper had been rubbed against them, and with the light on, water rushed to them.
“Are you all right?” my mom asked, feeling my forehead with her hand.
I pushed her arm away and sank down in the covers a little more. “I’m fine.” She almost never came into my room, and I wondered what the emergency was all of a sudden. “What do you want, Mom?”
The clock on my nightstand said it was ten in the morning, and I turned my focus back to my mother. Her hair was done and she had her makeup on, dressed and ready for the day. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d not seen her like this throughout most of my life.
The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2) Page 10
