Love's Spark

by L A Cotton

  I stuttered, feeling my cheeks heat, and the room erupted.

  After recovering from my slip, one of the kids started playing music through their iPhone and I dished out some candy. The kids gathered into small huddles and chatted and joked. I was going to miss this. Every teacher counts down to summer break, but I had no clue what I was going to do with myself. Dad seemed positive that the sale would close soon, so there was a chance that I'd be helping with the move. And Livy would be home soon, so at least I'd have one familiar face around.

  “Miss M?”

  I looked up from my desk to see Keylon looking down at me. “Hi, Keylon. What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to say thank you.” He hesitated. “Ya know, for everything.”

  I smiled and reached out and patted his arm. “You don't need to thank me, sweetie.”

  “I do, Miss M. Without you and Coach...”

  My heart fluttered at the mention of Keefer and I silently cursed at the effect he still had on me.

  “Lots of bad stuff coulda happened to me...to my brothers, Kaia, my mom.”

  Keylon was different—like a huge black cloud had been lifted from him—and I was glad to have had a small hand in making that happen.

  “Anyway, Coach Smith asked me and some of the guys to play ball this summer. In his summer program down at the park. There's a tournament.” He pulled a folded square of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I'd really like it if you came to watch. After everything. It'd mean a lot, Miss M. Momma’s coming, too.”

  My heart swelled as I opened the flyer and took in the details. “I'll see what I can do.”

  “You gotta come, Miss M. We'll all be there,” a voice cut through the room.

  “Yeah. You gotta cheer us on, Miss M,” Marc added.

  I stood up. “Okay, okay. I'll try my best. Now let me get back to my grading. Some of us still need to work.”

  Keylon headed back to his friends and I started organizing my last bit of paperwork. There was still a couple of days until school ended and I wanted everything done. But the flyer sat on top of a pile of books burning a hole. According to the little cartoon baseball player, Keefer was going to be in Lincoln and North East parks for most of the summer. It would be so easy to turn up and demand answers. To declare my feelings and give him one last chance. But I didn’t know if I could put myself out there again. I didn't want to be chasing him. I wanted him to chase me. I wanted him to choose me…I wanted to be his spark.

  The bell rang and the class broke out into chaos. Chairs scraped, bags rustled, and the kids exploded with excited energy. I knew exactly what they were thinking—one day closer to the summer. I followed them out into the hallway and headed straight to the teacher’s lounge.

  “This place is crazy.” Mae caught up with me just as I pushed open the door with my butt. “I know; they couldn't get out quick enough. I wish they were as excited to be in class.”

  She laughed. “Don't we all.”

  I dropped the stack of papers onto a spare desk. The room was a hive of activity. It seemed that I wasn't the only one who wanted to have everything finished up in time for the break.

  “Guess what?” Mae said with a hint of excitement in her voice.

  “I have no idea, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.”

  She clasped her heads together and exclaimed, “Phil is taking a month off work to take me on a second honeymoon. We leave in a week.”

  “Wow. I mean, great. That's great, Mae.”

  She launched into a description of their jam-packed itinerary, oblivious to my forced smile and envy-laden eyes. I couldn't deny the pang of jealousy coursing through me. It wasn't that I was jealous of her. She deserved this after a hard first year of marriage. No, it wasn't that at all. I was jealous of what she had. Someone who loved her.

  As Mae paused to take a breath from telling me about the twin center trip that they had planned to Vegas and Hawaii before cruising around the Caribbean, she looked at me and gasped. “What's happened? Your aura’s off.”

  I sighed. The last thing I needed was Mae overanalyzing my state of mind.

  “Is everything okay? I know you’ve had a rough few weeks.”

  She had no idea, not really.

  “I’ll be fine. Just wondering what I’m going to do with myself all summer.”

  Mae’s arms enveloped me as she pulled me into a hug. “He’ll come around. I’m sure of it,” she whispered in my ear.

  I wasn’t so sure.

  ~

  Two weeks. That was all it took before I was officially losing it. We had condensed the house into boxes, ready for the move next week, and I was living out of a suitcase, which was an impossible task. Dad was constantly shouting down the phone at the lawyer, and Russ was out of town. Again. Whoever said your early twenties were the time of your life hadn’t lived with Frank Macer during a move. Dad was insufferable.

  I was two pages into my latest bad-boy-turns-hero-and-gets-the-girl book when my phone started ringing. I folded the corner and hit answer. “Hello?”

  “Guess what, I’m back,” Livy’s voice said.

  I dropped the book into my lap and sat up straighter. “Please tell me you’re not messing with me?”

  “Hell, you know me better than that. I just got back.”

  I wanted to scream with joy. “You have just made me so damn happy, I could kiss you.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, but I’ll settle for a mocha. Julia’s tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Yes. YES.”

  “Slow summer?”

  “The slowest. Town just isn’t what it used to be. I’m twenty-four years old and my life is duller than Mrs. Spinks across the road. Not exactly the perfect little life that I had planned for myself.”

  “Hey, I like Mrs. Spinks. She used to give us cookies. And she has all those cute cats.”

  “Exactly, Livy,” I protested.

  “Come on, it’s not that bad. You are a successful career woman.”

  “You make me sound like one of those thirty-something singletons more interested in dollar signs than babies.”

  “Fine. I concede. But Sharn? If you wait for the perfect moment, the perfect moment will pass you by. Only you can change your fortune.” I sensed her smile, and then she said, “Until tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes, and they caught the small fold of paper sticking out from inside the baby pink leather satchel leaning against the wall next to the door. “Laters.”

  I hung up and pushed off the bed to go to the bag. I didn’t need to read the flyer to know what it was. The date of the baseball tournament was seared into my mind’s eye after Keylon gave me the flyer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go—of course, I wanted to be there for the boys, show my support and all that jazz, but Keefer would be there. And his radio silence the last three weeks told me everything that I needed to know. Didn’t it?

  My fingers smoothed out the creases and my eyes absorbed the details: Baseball Tournament, Lincoln Park, Thursday 4th July, 10am, Register teams with Keefer Smith, Youth Baseball Program, 352-252-5005. Livy’s words pushed into my periphery. She had a point—I was in control of my destiny. With a groan, I dropped my head. I sounded like Mae and all her talk of auras and chakras. But did I really want to sit around all summer and mope and wonder? I didn’t. But could I put myself out there and take a chance? I wasn’t sure. There was no doubt that if I went to the park there would be a moment between us—I just wasn’t sure it would be the one I wanted.

  Chapter 26

  ~ Keefer ~

  We hauled the huge equipment bag into the back of my truck and slumped against the truck bed. “Dude, these long days are killing me,” Zac groaned.

  I laughed. “Get used to it. If you're coming on board full-time, there'll be plenty of days like this.”

  He handed me a water bottle. “I didn't know playing ball could be such hard work.”

  Jase jogged in our direction, panting like a dog on a hot summer's day. “Fuck,
I'm wiped. Water. Now.”

  I reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle. He snatched it from me, unscrewed the lid, and drank it down.

  “Easy, bro.”

  “Those little shits ran me ragged. I thought this was supposed to be an improvement program. Most of my kids could hit the ball further than me.”

  Zac and I burst into fits of laughter. “You had some of my kids from the school. What did you expect, man? They learned from the best.” It was the end of the third week of the program. Next week was the tournament in Lincoln Park. Next week was make or break—my plan B.

  Thirty-three days. That was how long it'd been since I last saw Sharn at the award ceremony. It had been torture. I finally understood what people meant when they said absence made the heart grow fonder. Yeah, I was that guy. Pining after a girl like some pansy-assed punk.

  “Dude! Earth to Keefer.” Zac shoulder checked me.

  “Wha-what?”

  “Let me guess. Daydreaming of a certain Macer?”

  Jase coughed, “Pussy-whipped.”

  “J, leave it,” I warned.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Just messing with you, dude. She's been a good influence on you. Anyone can see that.”

  I yanked off my cap and thrust my hands into sweat soaked hair. “What if I screwed up? What if she doesn't show?” I could've found a way to contact her before now. I knew where she lived. But I didn't want to mess things up any more than I already had. Besides, she deserved more. More than me turning up uninvited on her doorstep with a lame bunch of flowers and a half-assed apology. I just hoped my plan would show her everything that I wanted to say but couldn’t find the words to.

  “She’ll show. She’s got it as bad as you,” Zac said, with conviction. At least he felt confident, because I sure as shit didn’t. “Only one more week to wait, dude,” he added.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket and my heart flipped—which was stupid because obviously it wasn’t going to be her. Not after this long. “Keefer, son?”

  “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Nothing, just wondered if you’d pulled your head out of your ass yet and smoothed things over with Miss Macer?”

  I groaned. “Not you, too.”

  “Son, you don’t want to live with regrets. It makes for a dark and depressing life. Trust me, I know.”

  “It’s under control. Chill, old man.”

  He laughed. It was taking some getting used to. “Less of the old man. Bring over takeout when you drop by? Mrs. Elms is killing me with her home baked pies. I need grease, son. Fried goods. Lots of it.”

  Mrs. Elms was doing a stellar job of keeping Dad in a regular supply of home cooking. I was thinking that she carried some guilt of not noticing the signs—like me. Although, I'd seen the signs, I’d just refused to acknowledge them. I shook my head. Dad was doing better. We were doing better. No point in living in the past. I wanted to move on from all the crap of the last few months. “Fried goods. Got it. I'll swing by after we drop the stuff back to the office.”

  “Oh and bring some of that hot sauce.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I hung up and climbed into the cab.

  “How's he doing?” Zac asked as he shuffled up to make room for Jase.

  I started the engine. “Better. He's like the dad I remember. Before Mom. It's weird, man.”

  “Yeah. But it’s good. Good that he's doing better.”

  “I just hope it's permanent this time,” I said under my breath.

  ~

  Three nights later, I was standing in Durty's. We were all wiped from the program, but I was going crazy being cooped up in the apartment every night. Thinking of her. Counting down the days until the tournament.

  “Dude, it's crowded tonight. Too many dicks, not enough chicks,” Zac said handing me a beer, and I cocked an eyebrow at him. I couldn’t help it. After dropping Aubrey, he'd been going through girls like I went through Yankees caps. “Maybe you need to slow things down. I don't know how you remember them all.”

  “Shit man, I don't. I don't hang around or swap numbers. Get in, get out.” He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and I shook my head. “It doesn't have to be that way. Plenty of girls would want you to stick around.”

  He snorted. “Thanks for that, Dr. Phil.”

  I held up my palms to him. “Just saying. I don't know how you do it.”

  “It’s pretty simple. You put the man parts in the woman parts and-”

  “Whoa, too much!”

  He laughed, but after a second, his features turned serious. “We're not all lucky enough to meet the girl of our dreams.”

  The words lingered between us. I wanted to say something—anything—but it had gotten touchy-feely enough between us.

  As we observed the crowd from our little spot at the bar, my eyes found the door, just as it swung open. Two girls entered. One was tall and slim with long chestnut hair swept over one shoulder. She looked familiar, towering over the girl next to her. As my eyes appraised her friend, the air was sucked from my lungs. She was so gorgeous it left me winded.

  Zac caught my frozen expression and said, “Dude, what are you-” He eyes found my line of sight. “Holy damn.” Then he added, “Who's her friend?”

  With wide eyes, I watched Sharn move through the crowd toward the bar. The short dress molded to her body like a second skin. Her hair was curled to perfection and her face glowed as she laughed at something her friend said. My heart pounded through my chest as I followed her with my eyes.

  “Man, you're gawking.” He tapped my jaw with his knuckle.

  “Shit, she's not supposed to be here. I don't want to talk here. Fuck.” I slammed my free hand onto the bar.

  “Chill. We can grab a booth and lay low. I'd say let’s head out, but with her looking like that and the look on your face, yeah, that's not gonna happen.”

  My grip tightened on the bottle in my hand as a guy leaned down to say something to her. Sharn smiled but stepped back from him, and I tensed. Zac pulled my arm. “Dude, chill. You look ready to kill. Looking as hot as she does, she's going to be hit on. It's Friday, and it's crowded. Come on, Casanova, let’s get a table.”

  Reluctantly, I followed Zac toward the back of the room. Fuck. She looked amazing. My skin was humming, and I kept glancing back, wanting to keep her in my sights. She was still standing at the bar, a drink in hand.

  Thirty minutes later, I was like a bomb ready to detonate. Every guy who looked at her, touched her, or talked to her cracked my control a little more.

  “You should see your face. She's a big girl, chill the fuck out.”

  “Look at that douche trying to muscle in on her.”

  Zac shook his head at me. “I hate to say this, especially to you, but this wouldn't be happening if you'd sorted your shit out sooner.”

  Fuck, he's right. I hate it when he's right.

  I dragged a hand over my stubbled jaw. “I know. Don't you think I know?”

  “Just go down there. Talk to her. This is stupid.”

  “No. I can't. Not like this.”

  “I give up. This is why I don't stick around. Too messy, man, too damn messy.”

  I sat up a little straighter when Sharn's friend pulled her by the hand out to the small dance floor. It was already crowded, but they managed to wedge themselves between the sweaty bodies and start moving to the beat. Sharn's body moved like she was born to dance. Her hips sashayed from side to side as she lifted her hands and waved them in some sexy-as-fuck pattern. Another song started and a dude in chinos and a fitted shirt approached her. I'd already clocked him watching her from the bar. He had douchebag written all over his smug face and perfectly styled hair. When his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back into him, she flinched but carried on dancing. It doesn't mean shit. They're just dancing. But when his hand moved up her stomach toward her chest, I lost it. “Fuck this.” I stood up and stepped out of the booth.

  Zac watched me with a lazy grin. “I h
ope that you know what you're doing.”

  I started winding through the crowd toward the dance floor. I'd lost sight of them, but anger clouded my vision anyway. If he touched her, there'd be no holding me back.

  As I reached the edge of the small tiled area, my shoulders relaxed. Sharn was still dancing, but the douche was gone. I jammed my hands in my jean pockets and just watched her. She was hypnotic, and before I knew what I was doing, I was stalking across the floor. Her back was to me, but her friend caught my eye over Sharn’s head. She smiled and I raised a finger to my lips, hoping she understood my message.

  Time slowed as I wrapped my arms around her waist, and Sharn shuddered under my touch while a small gasp escaped her lips. I didn't even notice her friend leave, I was too entranced by her smell—vanilla with a hint of something sweet—and the feel of her body pressed into mine.

  She tried to turn her head, but I nudged it back with my cheek and whispered in her ear, “Don't. Not yet.”

  She started to move against me. Seductive and slow. I groaned. My nerve endings tingled and desire surged through me as I pulled her closer. She molded against me like she was made to fit.

  The beat of the music slowed as a new song started and Sharn adjusted her movements. I released my hands from her hips and let them roam up and down her waist and across her stomach. My touch was light, but enough that her body responded.

  “Keef-” It came out breathy, but I lifted a single finger to her lip. It lingered there and her lips puckered against it. It was such a small action, but I almost died right there.

  I brushed my lips across the soft spot just under her ear. “Come. Next week. Come. I know you want an explanation. Answers.” I kissed her gently. “Come. Please.”

  Her chest rose and fell and my inner guy punched the air. She was considering it. I started to release her, but not before I said, “You look beautiful.” I pressed one more kiss to her neck before I wound my way back through the crowds and bolted for the door.

  As I stepped onto the sidewalk, the cool air hit my skin. It felt good. I'd felt myself burning while dancing with Sharn. Burning for her.