by Syms, Carly
"I hope it isn't," he says. "Come on, let's put these back for now."
I follow him into the dark pool house and over to the storage bins where I found the water guns.
"You fight dirty," he tells me, putting them inside.
"It's like I told you before -- "
"All's fair in love and war," he cuts in. "I know. I like the way you think."
I smile at him, and he takes a step toward me, and it's only then that I realize how close we already are, how much closer each movement he makes brings him to me.
And how every inch makes it just a little bit harder to breathe.
My heart slams against my chest as Doan looks right at me, and it's hard to see him because of the darkness but he's still somehow clear to me.
And then I feel his hands on my bare shoulders, hot and blistering. There's nothing gentle about his touch this time.
The only thing that feels the same as it did when he put his hands on me at the lake is that I can't think about anything other than his skin on mine.
He lowers his head and then his lips find me, hungry and searching, and I'm almost stunned at how much he seems to want me.
And how there's nothing sweet about his kiss.
His hands roam down my back and I wind my arms around his neck, using my hands to comb through his hair and pull him down closer to me, wanting to feel his lips pressed harder against mine.
I feel his mouth wander off my lips as he presses light kisses against my cheek before tilting my chin back and trailing a string of kisses down my neck, exploring more of me.
And I'm shocked at how badly I want him to keep going.
I'm so caught up in Doan that I almost don't hear the door to the pool house creak open, but the stream of light suddenly blazing inside sends me scampering away from him.
We both look up, startled and maybe feeling a little bit guilty.
"There you are," Justin says, looking from Doan to me and back to Doan. His voice is normal, his facial expression the same. He doesn't seem to realize what he's just interrupted. "Come back outside, we need a new team for chicken fights."
Doan and I look at one another, and I try to imagine calmly sitting on his shoulders in the pool after what just happened, and I can't do it.
But Doan just smiles. "Sure, we're in."
And he walks right out of the pool house without a glance in my direction.
Justin smiles at me and holds the door open as I pass by him.
"I told you," he says when I'm about a foot in front of him.
I turn around. "Told me what?"
He raises an eyebrow. "That you'd eventually learn to like Doan."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
This weekend is the team's annual trip to California for a round-robin series with a league near Los Angeles that's just like ours in Phoenix.
Things are still good with me and Doan; we'd never gotten another moment alone to continue what we started in the pool house, but he'd stolen kisses from me here and there during practice and our only game during the week.
I pull into the parking lot of one of the local high schools where Dad's arranged for us all to leave our cars over the weekend while we're in California. A yellow school bus -- the kind I haven't set foot on since eighth grade -- waits along the curb.
Doan's black pick-up truck is already in the parking lot, and I can't help but think about how weird it is that the sight of it makes me smile now instead of making me mad.
I never expected Doan and I to end up where we are today, and I have no idea where we're going, but every day makes me a little bit more excited to get there.
There's something about him.
And, okay, maybe there always has been. I can't pretend I didn't feel some kind of pull toward him the very first time I saw him.
It's like my mom would always tell me before she married the count and moved to Italy: Plans are a nice idea, a guideline that you hope will get you where you want to go, but they hardly matter. You're going where the universe wants to take you, whether you like it or not, whether you see it or not.
That's how she ended up living in an Italian castle in Sicily, anyway.
And it's why I'm about to hop on a rickety old school bus with my dad and a bunch of baseball players.
Dad and most of the team are already on the bus when I climb on board. Doan stands up from a seat near the back and waves to me. I make my way back toward him.
"Hey," I say, dropping my bag on the floor next to his and leaning down for a quick kiss. "Thanks for saving me a seat."
He smiles. "I can think of worse people to be stuck next to on a five-hour bus ride."
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment."
Before he can say anything, Dad calls us to attention and does a quick roll-call to make sure everyone's present before the bus rumbles out of the parking lot. We're due to reach our hotel in Los Angeles just before nine o'clock tonight. We've got one game tomorrow and another Sunday morning before we leave.
The rest of the time is ours.
And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to explore California with Doan at my side.
The first hour of the ride is mostly silent with people nodding off or talking quietly to each other. Doan had his head resting against the window, while I stared down at my song notebook, still trying to come up with the right answer for the song I can't seem to end.
When the bus hits a particularly nasty pothole on the freeway, Doan's head smacks into the window and startles him awake.
"You okay?" I ask as he looks around, trying to shake the sleep off and figure out where he is.
He looks over at me, confusion turning to happiness. "Hey you," he says. "Good morning."
I grin. "Morning, sleepyhead. Nice snooze?"
He nods and stretches his arms over his head, and I can't keep my eyes from drifting to the small sliver of tanned lower-body skin that peeks out between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans.
"Hey," Justin, who's been sitting behind us, leans over the back of the seat and looks at us. "We've still got like three hours to go. What do you say we play a round of Truth or Dare?"
"Seriously, bro?" Phil Allen asks. "There's one chick on the bus and she's with Doan and you wanna play that?"
My brother shrugs. "You got a better idea?"
Phil pauses, then shakes his head. "Nope."
"I'm down," Doan says, looking at me. "Holls?"
I think about it for a second before shrugging. "Sure. Okay."
"I've never backed down from a dare," Doan brags, and I smile and roll my eyes at him.
"We'll see about that."
"Sweet!" Justin looks pumped, then gathers the rest of the guys sitting near us and fills them in. They all agree because the next thing I know, there's a decent-sized group of guys all awkwardly hanging out of their seats, forming a misshapen circle in the aisle, kind of like we used to on middle-school field trips.
"I'll go first," Justin says. "Phil, give me something."
Phil looks up, startled. "Uh, I don't know."
My brother rolls his eyes. "Well, think of something."
"Truth or dare."
"Dare," Justin says with a smile.
Phil hesitates, then looks around for help that isn't about to come as everyone sits there trying to come up with a dare for themselves whenever it's their turn to challenge someone.
"Okay," he says at last, looking unsure of himself. "I dare you to moon the window."
Justin raises an eyebrow. "That's the best you got? Fine."
I can't help but chuckle but I look away as my brother drops his basketball shorts and presses his ass cheeks against the bus window.
"This long enough?" he asks.
"Yes, please!" I cry out, and Doan grins and pokes me in the shoulder.
"Sorry that can't be me," he whispers into my ear, and I can only laugh.
Justin finishes, then eyes Doan. "Okay," he says. "You. Truth or dare?"
I freeze as
I realize this order means that Doan'll be the one to give me my orders, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
On one hand, I don't think he's going to ask me to do something like flash the bus, but on the other, there's still that element in our relationship (or whatever it is) where we like to make fun of each other.
I can definitely see him having me do something a little crazy and embarrassing.
"Dare," Doan says without hesitation.
"Give up your cigarettes for the week," Justin says equally fast.
An eerie silence fills our small part of the bus. I've only asked him about smoking that one time, but even I know that what Justin's just suggested isn't about to go over so great.
"What?" Doan finally chokes out.
"You heard me," Justin says, the challenge clear in his voice and his eyes. "And what was it that you said before? You've never backed down from a dare, right?"
Doan shakes his head. "That's low, man."
"Maybe," my brother says. "But those are the cards."
"I'm not doing that," he says. "I can't."
"Yeah, I think you can," Justin replies, and I can't help but wonder why my brother chose this moment to turn a light, fun game of Truth or Dare into something it isn't supposed to be.
The two stare at one another, no blinking, no movement, each daring the other to back down first.
It takes me a minute before I realize I'm holding my breath.
But mostly I just really want to know what the heck has Doan so riled up about his cigarettes.
Doan blinks first. "You're really serious about that?"
Justin nods.
"Thought you were better than that, man," Doan says. He picks up his duffel bag, climbs over me and walks up to the front of the bus.
I can hear the sound of his metal bat hit the side of the bus when he tosses his bag into an empty seat.
No one says a word.
"Um," I finally say at last. "I guess that's it for that, huh?"
The guys all mutter and nod and turn their attention back to their seats. I get up on my knees and lean over the back of the chair.
"What is going on?" I ask my brother.
Justin just shakes his head. "You have to ask him."
I bite down on my bottom lip. "You know what?" I hiss, trying not to cause a scene. "I'm tired of that. I'm tired of you always defending him or telling me to trust him or making some reference to some story he has and then never telling me what's going on. You started all of that, Justin, and it wasn't like it was some private conversation I walked in on. You did that publicly, now you tell me what the heck is going on here."
"I won't do that," he says.
"Why not?"
Justin shrugs. "Because I wouldn't want someone to do that to me."
"Oh, but you'd want them to essentially hint at some giant issue during a friendly bus game?"
My brother sighs. "Maybe that wasn't my most brilliant idea," he says. "But I made my point."
"And what is your point?"
"Give it up, Holly."
I turn around and slump back in my seat. I know -- and I've always known -- that there's something about Doan, some part of his story that I never got and that I may never get. I'd almost accepted this, even, but when it constantly gets thrown around and it clearly bothers him this much -- it's not something that I'm okay with.
Without really thinking about it, I stand and march to the front of the bus where he's sitting and drop down into the seat next to him.
"What's the deal?" I ask.
He looks over at me and blinks. "Huh?"
I roll my eyes. "Enough," I tell him. "I know, I know. Not every story is meant to be told. That's fine. But you guys can't keep talking about things like this in front of me if you and I are ever going to work out."
Doan stares at me without saying anything for a long time. I don't let myself break eye contact even though I want to look away. He needs to know I'm serious about this.
"Didn't you find out most of it, anyway?" he asks.
I shrug. "I don't know. Did I?"
"My brother," he says. "In Iraq. He used to smoke all the time." He shakes his head. "Actually, he smoked before he went overseas. He'd offer me a cigarette here or there but I didn't do it much. When I did, we had some of the best talks we've ever had over a smoke and a bottle of beer in the backyard." A small smile dances on the corners of his mouth. "So when he left, it was kind of a way to get that back, you know? I missed him."
Yeah.
Yeah, I do know.
Because it's the exact same feeling I had in the pool house the other day holding those super soakers.
Without saying anything else to him, I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder.
He strokes my hair absently and the next time I look up, we're in California.
***
I have my own hotel room -- Dad and I are the only ones without roommates -- and I'm a little nervous about it. Doan and I have plans to go snorkeling this morning but I'm afraid the guys will grab him before I wake up and I'll be stuck on my own all day.
But when I wake up and check my phone, I already see a text from Doan asking me to meet him in the lobby in half an hour.
I smile as I hop into the shower.
Part of me finally feels like Doan and I are completely on the same page. I feel like I understand him now from that short, simple conversation yesterday. He misses his brother in Iraq.
I know I'd miss Justin if he got deployed to a war zone. I bet I'd do some pretty weird things, too, waiting for him to come home.
So because of all that, I'm a little more willing to overlook some of Doan's...less-positive tendencies.
And, okay, part of it is the way he makes my stomach twist when he looks at me the right way, the way his kisses seem to fill my whole body.
Sometimes I can't get enough.
I finish showering and dress in a brand new hot pink bikini, running shorts and a white T-shirt. I toss a few things into my drawstring backpack, tuck my phone into my pocket and head down to the lobby just five minutes late.
Doan's waiting for me in a chair by a large set of bay windows.
"Morning, lovely," he says, getting to his feet when he sees me walking up to him. He bends down to kiss me lightly on the lips but I grab the back of his head for a deeper kiss.
When we break apart and our eyelids flutter open, he's looking at me with a lazy grin on his face.
"Well, hello to you, too," he says, and I smile and look away. "Ready to snorkel?"
"I can't wait! I've always wanted to do this."
He reaches down and laces his fingers through mine. "Me, too."
Our hotel is backed up right onto the beach so we walk out onto a wooden boardwalk that leads us over onto the sand, and to the shack where we'd been told we could get everything we'll need to start snorkeling.
We're the only ones waiting so the instructor has no trouble getting us set up. We each get a mask, a tube and fins. He walks us through securing the mask to our face, how to clear it if it fogs and how to breathe through the tube.
We strap the fins to our feet and awkwardly wade into the shallow water to practice breathing underwater. After a few minutes of standing about waist-deep in the chilly ocean and trying to float and get used to the water filling the snorkel, the instructor asks us if we think we've got it.
"I'm ready," I tell him, but when I look over at Doan, I'm shocked to realize he looks a lot more nervous than I feel. "Hey, you okay?"
He glances back at me and tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. "Yeah, yeah," he says. "No problem."
"Are you sure?"
He nods, and I look over at the instructor who's staring back at us with raised eyebrows.
"Everything cool?" he asks.
With one last look at Doan, I smile at the instructor and nod. "Yep. I think we got it."
"Great," he tells us. "Remember you left your IDs with me so don't leave the beach without return
ing your equipment this afternoon."
He walks out of the water and back up the sand to the snorkel shack, leaving Doan and me alone in the ocean.
"Ready?" I ask him.
I'm not prepared for what happens next.
"I can't do this," he says.
"What?"
He shakes his head and rubs his bare arms with his hands. "I don't like it. I can't."
I clumsily walk over to him through the water but it's a struggle in the flippers. "Why not?"
"I don't know. I just -- I panicked with that mask on over my face and the water coming into the tube and I can't."
"Yeah, you can," I say. "You heard Peter. It's normal to get some water in there. You got it out, right? You didn't breathe it in?"
He nods. "Yeah, I got it out."
"See?" I tell him, reaching out and gently stroking his arm. "And it's not like we even have to go all the way under the water or even that far from shore. Try it. We can stop whenever you want."
I'm trying to keep my voice soothing but on the inside, I'm all jumbled up. Part of me wants to scream at him that for someone who likes to race his car down busy streets, snorkeling should be no big deal. The other part is sort of weirdly attracted to whatever sensitive side of himself he's showing me right now.
It's kind of nice, I guess, knowing that Doan isn't all toughness and bravado all the time.
"I don't know."
"Did I ever tell you how scared I was to play baseball again?" I say. "Because I was. But I did it anyway. And that's kind of the thing about trying new things. What's the worst that can happen? You do something you've never done before and you hate it. So you're back right where you started, you know? But maybe you'll love it. Maybe it'll be worth it. But if you don't do it, you won't know."
I try to ignore the nagging feeling that I'm not taking my own advice with my music.
But it's getting harder.
He shakes his head and smiles at me. "You're something else, you know that?"
I grin and nod. "Oh, I know," I tell him, raising my eyebrows. "It's about time you figured it out."
Doan laughs. "You really want to do this, don't you?"
