Whatever. Thank you, baseball gods.
After grabbing our gear, we file off the field, walking right past the visitors’ section. Half the booster club made the trip, and Mr. Joyner’s “I knew you had it in you!” is louder than the entire crowd combined. He’s full of crap, but thanks to the adrenaline surging through my veins, I grin and call a “thank you, sir” to him anyway.
As soon as we reach the parking lot, a hand lands on my shoulder. Coach Taylor squeezes it, staring straight into my eyes as he says, “I knew you had it in you.” And I can tell that he means every word.
My cheeks heat as I nod once, still trying to catch my breath. “Thank you, sir.”
We file onto the bus, energy buzzing and taking up more space than we do. I collapse back against my seat, and there’s no wiping the stupid-ass smile from my face. The only hint of a problem: I wish the guys from last year could’ve been here to see it.
I fish my phone from my bag as the bus lurches into gear, and shoot off a text to Brett.
Me: THE CURSE IS BROKEN.
Barely a minute passes before his reply comes in. IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME. And then, seconds later: Congrats, man. Knew you could do it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eric
When I walk into the cafeteria on the Friday before Spring Break, the room’s buzzing. Every freakin’ guy I pass holds his hand out for a high-five. The girls smile their sweetest smiles. The lunch lady lets me pass with a plateful of free chili-cheese fries. All of which can only mean one thing:
The Bulldogs are alive and kickin’. Which means people like me again. And it’s faker than a porn star’s boobs, but whatever. I’m taking it where I can get it.
I slide onto the bench at my table, across from Kellen and Jasmine. She smiles at me, which I return with one of my own. Kellen flashes a wink. That hookup took all of five minutes. Though I have to say, I’m starting to think that soccer girls may be the best in the world.
Blake’s tray clatters beside mine as he slips in next to me. “You know what y’all need?” he says. “A party.”
Kellen leans forward. “I can’t wait to hear this. Why do we need a party?”
“Because we’ve been tearin’ it up on the field—we’ve won all but one game this season, for Christ’s sake—and y’all aren’t reaping any of the benefits.” Blake slaps my shoulder. “By some grace of heaven above, you’re actually winning games—”
I narrow my eyes. “Thanks. No, really, thanks.”
He nods toward Kellen. “And your batting average blows all of ours out of the water,” he finishes. “Y’all need the two Bs: Booze and Bonfire.” He points at Jasmine. “You come, too. Bring your friends, while you’re at it. Especially your red-headed goalie friends.”
Jasmine raises her eyebrows. “Trust me. I won’t have to do much convincing.”
Honestly? A party sounds freakin’ amazing. It’s been one hell of a dry spell since I’ve been to one. I bite into a fry. “You’re forgetting one thing,” I tell him. “I’m not grounded anymore, but I’m still not allowed to party.”
“Correction: you’re not allowed to party with the Bro-Country Squad—”
“Never say that again.”
“Plus it’s tonight,” he continues. “At my place. Your parents didn’t ban you from my place. Think of it as a Spring Break sendoff.”
“But I’m not going anywhere for Spring Break.”
“You’re ruining my proposal here.”
“Think about it, Perry,” Kellen says. “You go, you can take Bri.”
I blink. And this is why Kellen’s the smart one. If we go tonight, add in some music and maybe a little liquid courage…
“Then you’ll have three Bs instead of two,” Blake says. “Even more reason to go.”
I look over at him. “Dude. Stop talking.”
“Hey, Bri!” Jasmine says brightly.
Bri slides into the seat beside me, while Becca takes the empty spot next to Blake. Or, more like takes the empty spot in Blake’s lap. Either way.
“Hey.” Bri’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Why’re you looking at me like that? Am I not allowed to sit here?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just that I’m not used to you sitting here. Because you’ve never sat here. Ever.”
Pursing her lips, she nods toward Becca. “She wanted to…” She trails off as Becca giggles, whispering something into Blake’s ear. “Talk,” she finishes. “Though I think their talking is gonna carry over into the supply closet after lunch.”
I nudge Blake. “Dude. Save room for Jesus. I’m eatin’ here.”
“Divine intervention,” Kellen whispers loudly. “Go with it.”
Bri looks at him, and back to me. “Did I miss something?”
Kellen may be full of it. Or he may be on to something. Leaning in, I tell Bri, “Blake’s having a party tonight.”
“And?”
If this is divine intervention, Bri’s not listening to the angels’ call very well. “And he invited us.”
“Us, as in—?”
“All of y’all,” Blake cuts in. “I mean, I know you don’t want to be seen with a bunch of juniors, but if you do want to actually get out of your houses instead of being holed up—”
Closing my eyes, I hold up a hand, signaling for him to shut up. “So do you want to go?” I ask Bri.
“With you?”
“With me.”
She flushes and glances at the others, who are no doubt gawking at us. “I thought we were friends,” she whispers.
I shrug. “Friends party together all the time.”
“So now we’ll be friends who not only sleep together, but party together?”
Kellen snorts while Blake bursts out laughing. My shoulders shake as I try to hold in my own laugh. I like the way she thinks. “You nailed it.”
Her smile grows, more and more confident by the second. She inches closer, until her thigh brushes mine. “I don’t know. Will I have time to go home and shower after practice?”
And now, for the rest of the day, all I’ll be able to think about is her in the shower. That’s just cruel. Leaning in, I tell her, “I mean, sure, if you want. But do you know what saves time and conserves water?”
She shakes her head, her long hair brushing my arm. “You drive me crazy.”
My lips curve into a slow smile. “You may have mentioned that once or twice.”
“Yeah,” she says. “But at least it’s not the bad crazy.”
I chew on my lower lip, holding back a full-blown grin. “I can work with that.”
~
Blake lives with his aunt and uncle on a cotton farm, way out by the county line. The place is huge, complete with a massive storage barn and wide-open field that goes on for acres. Flames from the bonfire stretch toward the sky. Pretty sure most of the junior class is here, along with half of the seniors. Screw Randy’s place—Blake’s on his way to being the next party master of Lewis Creek.
I may have brought Bri to the party, but Becca’s holding her hostage on the other side of the bonfire. Which I can’t argue with, I guess; we technically came as friends. So I sit on the edge of Kellen’s tailgate, watching the others down beer while whimpering a little inside. The number one condition of my parents letting me come tonight was zero alcohol. Hell, they’ll probably have a breathalyzer waiting for me when I get home.
I miss beer.
Someone cranks the music up, blasting it even louder across the field. Over by Bri, Blake grabs Becca and pulls her close, both of them grinning while moving to the music. I want that. I want that even more than beer, which is saying a lot. My gaze shifts to Bri. The fire casts its glow against her face as she talks to a junior girl, one from the soccer team. She looks amazing: jeans that fit her just right, boots that reach her knees, and her hair spilling across her white t-shirt. She glances over. Catches me watching her. Smirks.
Busted. But screw it. I’m goin’ in.
I hop off the tailgate and st
art in her direction, weaving through half the damn people from school to get there. Her friend quirks her lips as I come up behind Bri. Leaning down, I ask, “Dance with me?”
She turns her head just enough to say, “I don’t dance.”
“Everyone dances.”
She spins on her heel, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “And why would you want to dance with me?”
Because she’s gorgeous. Because I want to grab her hand, to pull her against me, to look at those eyes all night. To hold her all night.
Because I’m crazy about her.
Instead of telling her that, I step forward. Run my hands down her arms, until they settle lightly on her wrists. Lean in and whisper, “Please?” beside her ear.
Her gaze locks on mine, her lips curving into this smile that nearly knocks me off my feet. “Since you asked so nicely.” Her hands slide into mine.
Hell. Yes.
A new song starts, some country song that I don’t even know. Don’t really care to know. Because when she guides my hands to her hips and those hips match the music beat for beat, I’m 99 percent sure I’m having a freakin’ religious experience.
I keep up with her step for step, move for move, so in sync that I can’t help but think where else I want those hands. Where I want my hands.
I’m vaguely aware of the song ending. She gazes up at me, her chest rising with each breath, her lips parted slightly, those eyes sparkling, and dang it, it would be so. Damn. Easy to just do it. Just lean down and do it.
Kiss her.
Kiss. Her.
Before I can make a move, she presses herself against me. Slips her hand into my hair. And even though her touch is soft as cotton, it sets every inch of me on fire. She pulls me down to her, and then her lips are on mine, somehow both gentle and insistent, and the most perfect freakin’ thing on the face of this earth.
I grab her hips and hold her closer, closer, closer, and damn it, why can’t she be closer. Her arms circle around my neck, and she’s pulling me closer, like she’s dying to breathe and I’m pure oxygen.
I’ll help her breathe as long as I live.
My fingers dip beneath the hem of her shirt, trailing along the skin there. She backs away just enough to drive me crazy, so crazy that I’ll scream if it means bringing her lips back to mine.
But then she smiles, a smile that’s full of so many things at once that I can’t even pinpoint all of them because hello, no blood left in the head at all. That smile stays in place as she says, “I’ve been waiting a really, really long time to do that.”
Somehow, I manage to say, “Then let’s do it some more,” before pulling her back to me.
Her smile grows against my lips. And it’s officially official: the girl is trying to kill me. But what a way to go.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eric
After a sleepless night, lying wide awake in bed while the sun comes up is nearly as bad as a hangover. We’ll call this the Made-Out-Half-The-Night-But-HAD-To-Take-The-Girl-Home hangover. All so the girl’s dad wouldn’t hunt me down like a dog.
But it’s completely worth it.
I don’t know where this leaves me and Bri. I don’t know where the hell we’re going from here. But I do know one thing: I’ll never doubt Blake’s plans or parties ever again.
I roll out of bed and pad down the hallway to the kitchen. The house is quiet, except for Emma scream-singing in her room. I yank the fridge open, its cold air blasting my legs, and spot the goldmine.
Millionaire pie.
My brother’s coming home for Spring Break this weekend, so Momma made three pies, because he and I can scarf one down in ten minutes flat. I pull it out of the fridge and grab a paper plate. If I couldn’t spend the night with the girl, at least I can get pineapple/pecan/whipped cream in my stomach. Pie’s a universal cure.
The front door closes, just loud enough for me to hear. My head snaps up right as tiny footsteps barrel down the hall and a flash of Transformers PJs fly by the doorway. Grabbing my plate, I head into the living room. Grace is squatting beside the door, her hand over Emma’s mouth. She’s still wearing the same clothes as last night, when she left before I did, but that’s not what sticks out. It’s the black mascara smeared under her eyes. The streaks in her makeup. The redness still lining her eyes. Which means someone made my sister cry.
After she was gone for the entire night. With a football player who clearly has a death wish.
“Grace, what the hell happened?”
“Shh!” she says right as our parents’ door swings open. Her eyes widen, terror plastered across her face. As it should be. I’ve been in her place plenty of times, and it’s not pretty. And I would say that she should get in trouble for being with that asshole maybe-maybe-not boyfriend of hers, but shit obviously went down last night. It looks like she’s dealing with enough trouble already.
Momma walks into the living room, calm and composed as ever, with Dad behind her. That’s the thing about Momma: she’ll be pissed as a snake and have fire in her veins, but she won’t show a lick of it. It’s some kind of Southern momma voodoo. But as soon as she spots Grace, her expression softens. And instead of handing out a lifelong ban of everything under the sun, Dad clears his throat and says, “Go wait in your room.”
Grace shoves past me on her way out of the room. Her door slams closed. And that door slam reminds me of exactly why Bri and I tip-toed around the line before dancing over it last night.
Falling for someone can be downright terrifying. And as much as I want to dive right in, maybe slow and steady is the way to go here.
So I finish my pie (top priority). I take my shower. Get changed. Walk outside, where the spring air is at its peak this morning, cool and crisp with a breeze that feels like heaven itself.
Bri’s about to slide into her car when she spots me. Her hair’s pulled into a topknot, she’s wearing zero makeup, and it’s clear she’s exhausted from being out late.
And it’s satisfying as hell to know I’m the reason for that. Sue me.
Crossing her arms, she tilts her head to the side, a smirk playing at her lips. “What’re you doing here? You can sleep now, you know.”
I meet her at the edge of the driveway. “See, I could sleep. Or, I could ride with you to the center and make sure you don’t undo all the baseball genius I’ve instilled in those kids.”
Her smirk grows into a full-blown grin. “Eric Perry likes kids?”
I shrug. “What can I say? Even I surprise myself.”
~
Brett’s Jeep is in our driveway when Bri and I make it back from the center. She pulls in behind her dad’s truck cab and cuts the engine. She glances over at me, and then back to her house. “Tell Brett I said hi, okay?”
I nod. “Will do.”
She presses her lips together. “Do we need to talk about last night?” she asks.
Shit. Damn it. What the ever-loving hell, no, we don’t need to talk about last night. Talking gives her a chance to tell me that the entire thing was a mistake, or that “she had fun, but…”
Unless she wants to say good things. Because in that case.
I clear my throat. “Is there something you want to talk about?” I ask. What she doesn’t see is that I’m legit crossing my toes for good luck here.
She chews her lower lip. Looks at mine. “I had fun.”
Fun. She had fun.
Fuck.
Her eyes widen as realization seems to hit her. “No, no, no! Oh God, that’s not what I meant.” She grabs my hand, her own cold as ice, which is about what my heart feels like right now. “Like, I had fun-fun. Fun I’d want to do every night of the week, fun.”
I rub my face. That makes my heart defrost a little, at least. But I’d be lying if I said it still didn’t sting. And it’s not her fault—it’s not—but now…
Dang it, dude.
I squeeze her hand and step out of the car, taking a deep breath of fresh air. “We’ll talk later, if you want?�
� I say. I point to my house. “My brother’s home, and—”
She cuts me off with a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, definitely.” But she says it with a wince, and I don’t know if it’s because she regrets what she said, or if it’s because she meant it and sees that it was a straight shot to my core.
The sun’s shining, but the living room curtains are closed when I walk inside, making it dim. My parents, both my sisters, and my brother are all squished together on the couch, watching something on TV. He’s only been home a couple times since leaving in August, but every time he’s back, it’s like he never left.
He grins as I shrug out of my jacket. “Jailbird! How’s it goin’?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, fu—screw you.”
Momma lifts an eyebrow, but says nothing. I walk over to the couch and shove Brett over, making room for me in the corner. That movie about the girl who goes to Harvard after breaking up with her boyfriend is on the screen. Guessing Grace had something to do with that.
“When’d you get home?” I ask Brett.
He shrugs. “An hour ago? Somethin’ like that.” He looks at me. “You’ve got some explaining to do, by the way.”
“If y’all are gonna talk,” Grace says, “you need to leave. I’m trying to be normal for a while.”
Brett slings one arm across my shoulders and the other across Grace’s. “Normal doesn’t exist around here, Gracie Beth.”
“I hate you,” she mutters, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
I shrug his arm away as he leans over and whispers, “I’m meeting Jay and Braxton tonight at the field. Then we’ve got a football player’s front porch to cover in cow shit. You in?”
Normal may not exist around here, but I’ll take as close to normal as I can get.
~
The school’s ball field is dark by the time Brett swerves his Jeep into the parking lot. The lot, lit only by a couple of street lights, is deserted except for Austin Braxton’s truck and Jay Torres’s car. It feels like ages since I’ve been here with these guys. Back when they were home for Christmas, the field wasn’t open to outsiders. Lewis Creek High is serious when it comes to their field, even if the veterans are in town.
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