“Did Brady put you up to this?” I gesture at her: long legs, short skirt, and perfect breasts; dark hair, messy against my pillow. How did he get her to agree? And why would she?
“Put me up to what?” Her smile is nothing but trouble.
“I think you know.”
“I’m not sure I do.” She wiggles her eyebrows and rolls onto her side.
I shuffle a little closer to her. The way she’s talking reminds me of my birthday. Of the way she kissed me.
“I have to tell you something,” she says lightly.
Aaaand….there goes my hard on.
“I know about the bet. Brady told me on Alumni Day. He was drunk, and I don’t think he remembers.”
Well, I guess that’s one less thing for me to confess. “Are you mad?”
“No. We wouldn’t have ever gotten to know each other if he and Reid hadn’t put you up to it.” She beckons me closer with two fingers. I obey.
My breath is fast and heavy, struggling to stay sane. Hers is slow and deep.
“Can I ask you something?” Ellie’s words tumble out, breathless.
I nod.
“After Spring Break, are you going to drop me? Or do you actually like me?”
She keeps her focus on something near my desk and gnaws on her bottom lip.
I kneel in front of her. She’s so close to me, all I have to do is lift my hand to touch her, but the look on her face stops me. Her brown eyes grow wider, and she plays with the hem of her skirt.
“I like you, Fletch. I really do.”
I reach for her hand, but she pulls back.
“As hard as it is, we can’t. Not now.”
“Then why are you lying in my bed trying to seduce me?” I sputter.
She sits up. “Is this better?”
“Brady doesn’t have to know,” I plead. All the months of tension have wound into this very moment. That kiss, on my birthday. The time in the music room. It’s all led to this.
“I can’t afford to give you what you want.” She holds my face between her hands, and her warm breath fans across my lips. Electricity ripples through my body. “Not until you get yourself straightened out. Until then, I’ll be your friend.”
31
Baseball. Just the word makes me smile. Nothing — not fog or girls or parents — can take that away from me.
Reid rolls his shoulders, loosening up his arm. “Ready?” he asks.
I pound my fist into my glove. “Show me your stuff.”
He winds up and lets a fastball fly. The ball pops as it slams into my mitt, leaving a burning pain in its wake.
“Damn, Yamashita,” I say shaking my hand. “Shoot ‘roids before practice or something?”
Reid kicks at the mound. “Naw. Just a little Japanese magic for you.”
I cringe. Neither of us have mentioned what was said that night out in the Quad. Part of me hoped that if I pretended it didn’t happen, he’d come to his senses and beg Paige for forgiveness. But it’s been almost two months, and he’s still doing the emo-Japanese-whatever-thing.
“You guys almost done?” Brady yells at us from the cage where he’s taking balls off the pitching machine.
“Reid’s trying to kill me.” I hold up my throbbing hand and glance toward the fieldhouse. Most of the other guys have already left. “What time is it?”
Brady shrugs. “Maybe six?”
“A few more?” I ask Reid. Despite having two losing seasons behind us, we’re going all the way this year. First in our division. I can feel it.
He lopes back to the mound while I squat and readjust my stance. Being out here has given my overactive brain a break. I don’t even mind the water droplets clinging to my gear.
A deep voice booms from the clubhouse. “Bring it in guys. You’re going to miss dinner.”
Coach Burns, the latest in our ever-rotating list of former celebrity coaches, disappears into the fieldhouse.
“Shit. I didn’t realize it was so late,” I say to Reid. “We’re going to be late for Ellie’s party.”
“Right. Can’t be late for Ellie’s pahr-tay,” Brady sings as he jogs up. “Don’t want to disappoint our friend, right, Fletch?” He’s teasing, and for once, I don’t care.
The fieldhouse is unusually plain for Harker. Just some lockers and wooden benches crammed between the showers and coach’s office.
As I mentally run through the pitches Reid threw and make notes of what I thought were his best, Kyle Bennett appears out of nowhere. He somehow made the team this year as an outfielder.
“So, is it okay?” His voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old.
“What did you say?” Reid growls.
“Can I ask her out?”
Reid grabs Kyle by the neck of his shirt and slams him into a bank of lockers.
“Dude, what are you doing?” I jump up and pry Reid’s fingers off Kyle, who seriously looks like he might crap his pants.
“This idiot asked me — me — if he could ask Paige out.” The vein in his neck bulges. “Are you fucking serious?”
Clearly, Kyle is the only person at Harker who believes Reid doesn’t want to be with Paige anymore.
“You broke up. I thought, you know – the guy rule. I’d ask before. As a favor, Bro.” Kyle stares at Brady and me like we’re going to back him up or something. Yeah, right.
Reid loses his shit. “Guy rule? You are not my friend. Do you understand that, Bennett?” He shoves Kyle. For being scrawny, Reid has serious upper body strength. He lifts all year long to keep his arm in shape for baseball season.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Coach Burns yells from the door of his office.
Reid steps away from Kyle. “Nothing.”
Coach takes off his cap and narrows his eyes. “If I see that kind of nothing again, Yamashita, you’re going to be raking the infield for the rest of the season. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Reid mumbles.
“Good. Now get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see any of you until Monday, got it?”
“Got it,” we say in unison.
Kyle grabs his bag off the bench and scurries out the door. Reid kicks off his cleats and bends to put on his sneakers.
Over his head, Brady mouths, I’m going to say it.
I shake my head no. Don’t, I respond.
“Go on.” Reid lifts his head. “Tell me I’m the biggest idiot ever for breaking up with Paige.”
Brady jams his practice jersey in his bag. “That’s all you, man, but you’ve been miserable. Maybe you should talk to her.”
“And say what? Sorry, Paige. I’m a colossal asshole? I broke up with you because I was having an identity crisis?”
“So that’s over now? You’ve figured out who you are?” I say it kind of smartass-ish, and Reid winces.
“More like, I know that not being with her because she’s not just like me is completely stupid.” His jaw tightens. “Doesn’t matter. She probably hates me.”
I mess with my shoelaces. “I’ve seen her watching you. She misses you.”
Reid runs his hand over his face. “This would be easier if you were still talking to Cal.”
“No way.”
“C’mon, Fletch. Help me out. Please.” Reid clasps his hands as if praying. “Just ask Cal if Paige hates me. You can do that.”
I blow a stray strand of hair off my forehead. As much as I hate Calista, I like Reid more. Plus, hanging out with him is more fun when he isn’t moping. “Fine. But you owe me.”
32
Ellie wanted her eighteenth birthday down on the beach — the real beach.
Since it’s Friday night, we’re allowed out until eleven. No sneaking around necessary. Even better, no staff member is going to hike a mile through the forest with a flashlight, just to catch a bunch of kids having a party.
Yesterday, I let Brady drive Sarah and Libby into town to buy firewood and party supplies. And all day today, the girls and I watched the weather reports, praying the forecasted
rain wouldn’t start until after ten.
So far, so good.
Brady and I follow the worn path through the trees to the cliff’s edge before heading down some makeshift steps to the sand. It’s going to be a bitch to climb back up in the dark. Especially if we’re drunk.
A large group of students stand near an okay-sized bonfire.
“Did they invite the whole school?” I ask
He shrugs. “Who knows, and does it really matter? More girls, more fun.”
Near the fire, some junior guy — Dash McEwen, I think — has his armed draped around Ellie. She wears one of those ridiculous pointy birthday hats, and Dash keeps touching it, pushing the tip up with his finger. When Ellie laughs, I fight the urge to immediately interject myself into the conversation and instead, walk toward Sarah who’s manning the alcohol distribution.
“Hey, Fletch!” She says too enthusiastically. She totters to the left when she tries to hug me while handing me a cup of something.
Yup. She’s already lit.
“Hey, Sarah.” I take a plastic cup of – I sniff it. “Lemonade?”
“With vodka,” she says. “Goes down easier.”
I nod and chug the whole thing. “More.”
Sarah snatches the cup from my hand. “Don’t get too wasted. Remember what happened at your birthday?”
Of course I do, but how does she know about it?
“Don’t be so shocked. Ellie told us. And if you behave, maybe there’ll be a repeat performance tonight.” She winks and walks away.
The goofy smile hasn’t faded from my face when Brady comes up behind me and wraps his bulky arm around my neck like a boa constrictor.
“See Reid anywhere?” he asks.
“No. Maybe he—” Near the fire, Dash holds out a cup to Ellie, and she sips from it. What the hell? She hasn’t even come over to say hi or anything. I take another gulp of the lemonade. “Maybe he went to talk to Paige?”
“Naw. He’s afraid.”
Finally, Ellie notices us. “Fletch! Brady!” She races across the sand. Dash shoots us a nasty look.
Whatever.
Brady scoops her up and plants a kiss on her forehead. “Happy Birthday!”
I don’t dare touch her. I might not be able to stop with a friendly hug. “Yeah, happy birthday, Ellie.”
She does this weird shimmy thing, and combined with her flushed cheeks, I can tell — like Sarah — she’s already drunk. Thanks to Dash McEwen. Bastard.
“I’m going to say hello to the rest of my guests. Don’t move, okay?” She doesn’t wait for our answer before flitting off to a group of girls standing by the makeshift bar.
***
Ellie is trashed. Like so sloppy drunk, she can barely walk. Which means for once, I’m taking care of her. As designated party-minder, Libby went in through the front door of the dorm, checked in, and snuck to the back door to let the rest of us in.
We creep down the hall and around the corner. Ellie drags her feet, making too much noise. Behind me, Brady carries Sarah on his back. The two of them whisper a little too loudly.
Even in my slightly inebriated state, I’m fully aware we’re in violation of a million school rules: namely, intoxication and sneaking into a girl’s room after visiting hours. Those are expellable offenses for Brady and me.
I stick my arm behind Ellie’s knees and scoop her up. She nestles her head onto my shoulder and giggles.
“Shhh,” I say. She rests her finger against my lips and laughs again.
Libby opens their quad door, and once inside, Sarah slides off Brady’s back and onto the couch. Libby and I exchange eye rolls when Sarah pulls him down to her.
“At least move to your room,” Libby says, kicking Brady’s ass gently with the toe of her shoe.
The quad is decorated more like someone’s home than a dorm room. There’s a couch, chairs, and a big screen TV. Four doors — two on each side — line the room.
“Which room is Ellie’s?” I ask.
“That one.” Libby points to the far door on the left.
I shove Ellie’s bedroom door open, and with my knee and arm, I balance her so I can turn on the light.
“Welcome to my room,” Ellie slurs.
It’s completely sterile. No posters. None of that purple, pink, and sparkle crap every girl seems to have in her room. No cutesy stuffed animals. Just school issued furniture, her laptop, and a few school books.
“Thanks. It’s…” The word ‘empty’ sits on my tongue, but I think better of it.
“Minimalist?” she suggests.
“Yeah.” I place her softly on the bed and begin taking off her shoes. It seems wrong to just leave them tossed on the floor, so I walk across the room and place them near the closet.
Part of me wants to peek in her drawers to see if she really does organize her panties by color. I bet she keeps them in the top one, along with perfectly folded socks.
My eyes rest on the only decoration in the room: a framed picture and a wooden box.
Photo Ellie grins at me as a man — her dad, probably — plants an exaggerated kiss on the side of her face. She looks cute with her long hair pulled into a ponytail and not much older than thirteen. It seems like they were having a fun day.
“Your dad?”
“Yup.” She rolls onto her side and tries propping herself up on one arm. Normally, it would be a sexy look for Ellie, but her hand smashes the side of her face.
“You look like him – the brown hair and eyes,” I say, placing the photo back on the dresser.
Ellie collapses into her pillow. “I guess. Most people say I favor my mom, but I don’t know. I’ve only seen a few pictures of her.”
“She’s not around?” I don’t want to say dead, it seems insensitive.
Ellie grabs her stomach and moans. “Oh, God. The room is spinning.”
“That’s what happens when you’re piss drunk.”
She rolls over and draws her knees to her chest. A long silence falls between us. I watch her back rise and fall, and just when I think she’s passed out, Ellie says, “She left when I was two. I don’t remember her.”
Lots of kids come from divorced families. Even more come from messed-up ones, but I’ve never met anyone whose mom just left. I mean, what kind of mom just leaves her kid?
“Fletch?”
I kneel next to the bed. My own buzz wore off as soon as I stepped into the dorm. I’m very aware that I’m not only in Ellie’s room, but we’re alone.
“You okay?” I ask. “Do you need some water?”
She uncovers her eyes and pats the side of my face. “It all feels right when you’re around. You know that, don’t you?” Her head rolls back and forth on the pillow.
“Whatever you say, Elle.” I want to tell her I feel the same, but what’s the point? She won’t remember tomorrow.
She giggles. “Elle. I like when you call me that.”
From under her desk, I retrieve the metal trashcan and place it next to the bed. She’s going to need it in the near future.
Ellie’s fingers clench my hand. “Stay with me. Please.” Her eyes meet mine, and her thumb rubs the back of my hand. “Give me a birthday present, like the one I gave you. But better.”
I stare down at her, at the amazing girl I like more than any other. My body aches for her soft touch and her warm lips. It would be so easy to slip into bed with Ellie.
But I’d hate myself tomorrow.
“You know I can’t,” I say. “Not when you’re drunk. I won’t do that to you.”
She pouts, pushing out her lip and batting her eyes. “When did you become moral?”
I kiss her forehead. “When I met you,” I whisper.
Ellie sighs. Her eyes flutter shut, and her breathing slows.
I stand and flip off the light, but I linger, just wanting to be near her a little longer.
Sometimes, that’s all I need.
33
Reid paces across the floor of my room. In one hand, he holds
a box of donuts, and with the other, he shovels them into his mouth.
“Want some?” he asks. Crumbs fly everywhere.
I shake my head. Even though I didn’t drink as much as I usually do, my stomach heaves and churns at the sight of food. But as bad as I have it, I bet Ellie hates life right now. “Naw.”
“Brady didn’t come home. At least he wasn’t there when I got up. Who’d he hook up with?”
In my closet, I find a hoodie and slip it on over my t-shirt. “Sarah. He was there when I left.”
“Playing hide the pickle?” Reid asks.
I squint at my reflection in the small door mirror. “Probably.” I finger comb my hair and turn back toward Reid. “How come you didn’t show up?”
He tosses the empty donut box on my desk, before picking up his skateboard. “I didn’t want to.”
I understand. He was pretty pissed at Kyle yesterday. “You have to stop moping around.”
We jog down the stairs, and my stomach sloshes with each step. Reid slaps his board on the ground and pushes off. “Was Cal there?”
I jump on my own board and race to catch him. Please let whatever’s in my stomach, stay there. “No. Why would she be?”
I can’t make out what his answer as we fly down the small hill. At the bottom, Reid tumbles forward, and his board shoots to the left. His arms and legs windmill before he regains his balance. I grind to a stop next to him.
“Can you talk to her today? This morning?” Reid jogs over to his board and tucks it under his arm.
No.
Reid shuffles his foot across the concrete. “I miss Paige. I can’t explain it, but it’s like, I don’t know, I’ve lost part of myself.”
I exhale loudly. “If I do, will you promise to never ask me to do this again?”
“Promise.”
“Fine.” Before I lose my nerve, I jump back on my board and push off, toward the lower campus dorms. My heart thumps like a man going to his hanging.
“I’ll wait here,” Reid shouts behind me.
I skate to the other side of the Quad. Calista strolls under the redwoods, probably on her way back from breakfast. She keeps her head down, like she’s afraid she might trip. From where I stand, she looks tiny and alone.
Crushed Page 18
