by Ali Dean
I decide I’ll give Clayton another chance. One more date, and then I’ll know if I’m into him or not. It’s not fair to compare him to Jace off the bat like this, and it went well for a first date. The way he listened to me intently was really sweet, and he did rescue me from Savannah Hawkins not once, but twice, back when I was a senior in high school. He’s a good guy.
Having resolved that, I feel better as I turn around and jog home. I’m still uneasy about Dana, Tina, and other girls. What does it mean that he hasn’t been with any of them? And why do I care so much?
Chapter Seventeen
Jace
When Pepper hadn’t shown up to the party by 11:00, I decided to head out. Getting propositioned by Tina and Dana was a good indicator that it was time to call it a night. It amazed me that those two were still at it. I knew it had only been a few years since we all graduated high school, but I would’ve thought a couple years of college would have settled them down a little, given them a chance to grow up. But no, double-teaming the high school quarterback was apparently still a thing they wanted to check off their bucket list. Maybe I shouldn’t have judged. Just because I had changed my ways didn’t mean I should’ve expected everyone else to be right there with me. Not everyone hit rock bottom their sophomore year of college and was forced to reconsider their relationships with people.
I glanced up to Pepper’s apartment as I drove past it. It was only last Saturday I ran up the stairs to check on her, and everything changed. As much as I wanted to do that tonight, I had to remember my place. Pulling into my driveway, a movement caught my eye in the rearview mirror. Somebody was out on the sidewalk pretty late, and after parking I jumped out to see who was roaming Shadow Lane close to midnight.
It was Pepper running down the street, a strong stride that told me she was trying to run through her emotions. My chest constricted in panic. Did something happen? It had been years since she’d gone on these impulsive runs, and only something major would get her doing it again. I knew that much.
“Pepper!” I called out, and she spun around. Even from across the dimly-lit road, I could see her face was flushed from exertion, but she didn’t look distraught, and that eased my fear a bit. Still, she was on the way back from the run, which meant she’d already calmed down from whatever had prompted this late-night run therapy.
She stood completely still, her chest rising up and down the only movement. It was a weird sensation, walking toward her in the middle of the road late at night, with no one around. Somehow, it felt like we were going back in time, rewinding to when there was nothing messy between us, no regrets. Just Shadow Lane, the place we’d always lived, and the two of us, watching each other.
“Hey, Jace,” she said, and I wondered if I was imagining how husky her voice sounded.
“What’s going on, Pepper?”
She shrugged, and finally broke eye contact, once I was standing in front of her.
“Just needed a run. I wasn’t out for long.” She shut off her headlamp and tugged it down from her forehead so it hung around her neck.
I didn’t want to sound accusatory or admonishing, but I was curious. “Are you doing this a lot? Running impulsively?”
“No. This is the first time I’ve done it in years, actually,” she admitted almost proudly. “With all the training I’m doing in college, it’s not a good idea to add extra mileage.”
We both remembered the last time she overdid it with her mileage; she’d ended up on crutches. It could have been a lot worse.
“Why tonight, then?”
“I didn’t go for long.” It wasn’t an answer to my question, and I didn’t think she was planning on telling me. Open and honest Pepper only went so far with me now, I guessed, and that sent a pang through me. She didn’t trust me with everything, just like Zoe said. It was plain as day now. But I had to know if it was Clayton, and if he did anything to set her off, because she just told me she hadn’t had to run it out in years.
“Where were you tonight? Rollie had a party and you weren’t there.” I was trying my best to sound gentle, but the irrational anger I felt toward Clayton Dennison, when I wasn’t even sure that’s who she was with, was simmering beneath the surface.
Sighing, she admitted what I already suspected. “I went out to dinner with Clayton.”
Hearing it from her, such simple words, was excruciating. But this wasn’t about me, not right now. “Did he do something to upset you? Is that why you were running?” Okay, now my attempt at gentleness sounded forced, even to my own ears.
“No, Jace, relax. He was a perfect gentleman, okay? It was the first date I’ve been on since, well, since you broke up with me, and… do we really have to talk about this?”
The lump forming in my throat was making it hard to speak. The words “since you broke up with me” rung in my head over and over. It didn’t feel like I did that. It felt like someone else did. Some jerk, some idiot, who I didn’t even really know anymore. And I kind of hated him. But what was worse? She didn’t want to talk it out with me. She used to love talking things out with me. She never used to hide anything.
All I could do was shake my head. I wouldn’t force her to explain. If he was the perfect gentleman, I had no reason to intervene. I wanted to ask her if she did this to hurt me. Why now? Why wait until we’re reconciling to date again? Was she trying to get back at me? Was this her revenge? Because if it was, it was totally working. It hurt like hell. But that wasn’t Pepper. She wasn’t trying to hurt me, and that made it even worse.
Chapter Eighteen
Pepper
It’s been two weeks since my date with Clayton. He’s had games either in Denver or out of state nearly every day, or else he’s traveling. It’s nuts. I’m beginning to realize that I’d have to be pretty committed in order to actually have this go anywhere with him. And to be that committed, I’d have to be head over heels for him, which it doesn’t seem like I am, at least not yet. He calls and texts nearly every day, and even sends little stuff like flowers and teddy bears. He doesn’t know that after the stunt Savannah Hawkins pulled, I’m not a big fan of flower deliveries. Still, it shows he’s thinking of me, which is nice, I guess.
He’s invited me to watch his games in Denver, and says we could meet up after, but I’m usually working, and driving an hour to watch a guy play and spend a little time with him is not really on my agenda right now. I’ll go on another date with him, I’ve told him so, but it just hasn’t happened yet. I’ve got a lot of friends I want to spend time with this summer, and going out of my way to make something happen with Clayton isn’t a priority.
Preseason training starts in a couple of weeks, and while I’m excited to move into off-campus housing for the first time and start running with my teammates again, I’m going to miss my Brockton crowd. And, well, things have settled into something comfortable and almost normal with Jace, and I don’t want to disrupt that.
I don’t fight it when Jace starts to make his presence in my life habit again, like old times. I know it won’t last anyway, with college starting up again. He stops by unannounced occasionally, and sometimes joins me and Gran for dinner, sitting in his old chair. When my shifts don’t coincide with Ryan’s shifts at the Tavern, Jace gives me rides so I don’t have to deal with biking or borrowing Gran’s car. The trail runs together are new though, and because of that, I’m not sure how I feel about it. Okay, honestly, I’m totally thrilled that Jace can go with me for my shorter jogs, but the fact that I’m thrilled also leaves me a little terrified. I don’t want to give him too much of me. Still, I’m comforted knowing once preseason starts, there won’t be any time for runs with Jace, so I’m not in too much danger.
Tonight, a big group of us is going to watch a Rockies home game. I waited until the last minute to let Clayton know we’d be coming. I didn’t want him going out of his way getting us seats or anything, and I didn’t want him trying to plan anything special with me afterward. If my friends want to hang in Denver after the ga
me, and he wants to meet up with us, that’s fine, but most of us aren’t even twenty-one yet so we can’t exactly go out to the bars. I’m pretty sure most of my friends have fake IDs, but I don’t, so I guess I’m the party pooper. Zoe doesn’t either; I suppose it’s her way of acknowledging that her dad is, indeed, a cop, even if she defies his rules the majority of the time.
It’s a Friday afternoon game, and we’re squeezed into the Burton family minivan. This is actually Zoe’s minivan now, because her mom got a new one to cart around her four younger siblings, and Zoe got this lovely hand me down. I’m sure Mr. Burton would not be pleased to know that there are eight of us squeezed into the seven-passenger vehicle: me, Zoe, Wes, Rollie, Jenny, Omar, and Wes’s Lincoln Academy buddies, Forbes and Pierce. We’re meeting Jace and his crew at the game.
When my phone rings and Clayton’s name appears on the screen, I’m more than a little surprised. The game starts in thirty minutes, so he really shouldn’t be calling me.
“You’re coming?” he asks with excitement.
“Yeah, we’re on our way. Shouldn’t you be warming up or something? I heard you were pitching.”
“Not until the third or fourth inning. Who are you with?”
“A bunch of people. We’re in Zoe’s sweet ride.” I’ve told Clayton about Zoe and her minivan. From our phone conversations, he’s heard the basics about my friends in Brockton, though he doesn’t know any of them very well.
“I wish you’d told me you were coming sooner, I would’ve gotten you guys a box.”
“Don’t worry about it.” It’s tempting to lie and tell him this was a last-minute idea, but we actually decided a few days ago. Forbes’s dad’s company had all these tickets, and it took a little coordinating to get all of us off work at the same time.
“I’ll see you after the game, right? What are your plans?” he asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say hesitantly. “We haven’t really decided on anything.”
I hear his name called in the background. “I’ve got to get going, but I want to meet you later, okay? I can always drive you back to Brockton tonight. We don’t have a game tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. Talk to you later.” I’m not sure why I’m so reluctant to spend time alone with Clayton. Most girls would be elated, wouldn’t they? Maybe it’s Jace’s fault, and he’s made me wary of all guys. There must be something wrong with me.
Wes is driving and from the passenger seat Zoe spins around and asks who I was talking to.
The music is blaring but Wes turns it down just as I answer, “Clayton Dennison.”
And I can practically feel the weight of everyone’s curiosity pressing on me now. I thought I’d been talking quietly on the phone with him. Zoe must not have been tuned in to the conversation in the back of the van, and was eavesdropping. I’m sitting behind her, so I guess she can’t be blamed. But now everyone’s going to know, and this is what I’d been trying to avoid. Oh well, it’s not like they wouldn’t have found out after the game anyway.
“You were on the phone with Dennison?” Omar doesn’t mask his excitement. “Is he pitching tonight? Wait. Why was he calling you? And this close to the game? Is something wrong?” Omar’s definitely got a baseball crush on Clayton.
“No, he was just checking that we were coming. He might meet me after the game.”
Omar’s eyes widen and his mouth forms into a neat little circle.
“He’s got the hots for our girl,” Zoe explains.
“Zoe!” Aside from Jace and Gran, she’s the only one who knows about the date two weeks ago.
“He’s been sending her flowers and stuff,” she says all suggestively, and I want to smack her on the back of her head. The traitor.
“It’s nothing, seriously. We’ve only been out once, and I doubt it will go anywhere,” I say, trying to tamp down where I assume everyone’s heads are going. He is not my boyfriend. Not even close.
“Flowers?” Pierce asks with a smirk from in between the captain seats. He volunteered to sit on the floor. “Sounds like you got the dude wrapped around your finger, Pepper.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” I declare. “What do you guys want to do after the game?”
“Well, if Clayton is meeting us, I’m sure he’ll have some ideas,” Zoe remarks. I can only catch the profile of Wesley’s expression, and he’s not giving much away. I wonder what he thinks about Clayton.
Rollie helps me out by listing a few places without a twenty-one and older entry policy. Jenny doesn’t have an ID either, as far as I know. She still looks like she’s fifteen in some ways, so I’m not sure how well it would work anyway.
“We don’t need to worry about that if Dennison’s meeting us,” Forbes points out. “If we’re with the team, no one’s going to check IDs.”
Sighing, I try to protest that I’d rather go somewhere legal, and I’m not sure we’ll meet up with him anyway, but my friends are already imagining some epic night downtown with the Rockies. After meeting some of the players at the hotel party, the guys, at least, seem to think they are legit groupies or something.
I’m feeling agitated and kind of angry, though I’m not really sure why, when we find parking and walk a few blocks to the field. It’s a hot day, and I’m committed to drinking water and staying hydrated, though a few of my friends already cracked open beers in the van. Between the extra passenger, the drinks and the fake IDs, I’m surrounded by law-breaking delinquents. But after purchasing a hot dog and smothering it with ketchup, I’m starting to shake my negative mood and get into the baseball fan mood.
Our seats are behind first base, and the rest of the crew is already there. Jace, Ryan, Remy, Ben, Connor, and the Barbies. In my head, I continue calling Kayla, Andrea and Lisa by the label Zoe gave them in high school. They all still rock the long blonde hair and girly attire, looking put-together in their Rockies shirts and matching shorts. It’s funny that all of us hang out together in the summer now, when my friends rarely overlapped with Jace’s crowd in high school. I never would have pictured this scenario four years ago.
The Barbies still act like they’re better than me, Zoe and Jenny, but it seems petty and a little pathetic instead of intimidating and meaningful like it once did. I’m sort of glad Amelia isn’t here, because I worried Ryan might invite her and she’d give me another talk about Clayton being a bad idea. People always want to give me advice for some reason. But I’m not as naïve and innocent as I look. I’ve been harassed and stalked by crazy people and I’ve come out tougher for it.
Our group ends up in the row behind Jace’s, and I find myself staring at the back of Jace’s head and admiring his broad shoulders, which seem to fill out more every year. I’m not surprised he’s already chowing down on a cheeseburger and fries. The kid never stops eating.
“Want some?” he asks, tilting his head back and holding out his fries.
“Sure.” I snag a few and lean over to dip them in ketchup. I ran ten miles this morning, and I’ll admit, I eat almost as often as Jace does.
As I take in the people around us, I notice for the first time the jerseys with “Dennison” displayed on the back. It’s an odd feeling, seeing his name worn by random people. He’s someone important, and I almost feel like a fraud. Who am I to turn down dates with him? And why me, anyway? The jerseys must be new, since he only joined the team this year. When he steps onto the mound in the third inning and his name is announced, the odd sensation multiplies. This guy I just talked to on the phone is out there on the field, and thousands of people are watching him on their televisions. But instead of the pride I feel when I watch Jace’s football games, which don’t have nearly as many viewers, instead I feel a little queasy.
It’s probably just the hot dog I ate earlier, but there’s just something so off about Clayton’s interest in me. He’s too big, too, well, major league, for me. And even though Jace has that aura of celebrity about him too, it feels almost innate and natural to who he is, and there’s a fa
miliarity between us that will never exist with Clayton. But, I’ll admit, he looks really good in his baseball uniform up there, and when the Barbies gush about it, I have to agree with them.
My queasiness subsides with the seventh inning stretch, and I sing along with “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” making me feel all patriotic and American. When my phone vibrates from my back pocket, I’m amazed to see it’s Clayton. If he’s texting me in the middle of a game that he’s pitching in, maybe going on a second date with him is a bad idea. I already feel like things aren’t going to go anywhere for us, and I don’t think he’s on the same page.
He’s asking me to meet him after the game, and describing where I can find him outside the locker rooms. I’m uncomfortable splitting with my friends, but maybe I can count this as our second date, and then explain to him why I don’t think we should keep doing this, whatever it is.
I want to ask Zoe for advice, whether I should just ask him to meet up with us later, but she’s on the other side of the row. I don’t want Clayton to think I’m playing games with him, and I don’t want him distracted texting back and forth with me about plans, so I just type a quick “ok,’” and hope I can pull this whole thing off without any drama.
