by Sydney Lane
Chapter 40
Eliza
After the night at Brody's farm, my life settles into a new normal. For the first time ever, I feel as if things are looking up for me. Like the fog has finally lifted.
We run. We talk. We laugh. And sometimes, we even make out.
I want him to touch me. I want to memorize the feel of his fingertips gliding across my skin, the whisper of his breath across my lips. I want to experience everything.
And I want to experience it sober.
So, yeah, it still scares me, but not like it did when I first met him.
After our run today, I told him I had to study for an exam. I wasn't exactly lying because I've been trying to catch up, but here I am, standing in a long corridor, in front of a door I never thought I'd see.
I'm afraid to knock. Afraid not to.
This one thing could change my life forever.
Before I chicken out, I step forward and rap twice before taking two steps back. I glance down the deserted hall, wondering if it's too late to make a run for it. My eyes snap back to the door when it rattles and swings open. My stomach drops, and I dig my fingernails into my palms. This is it. My last chance.
There she is, my idol, a woman I've looked up to for most of my life. Coach Dina Senton, head coach of the Tennessee Lady Vols softball team. I didn't make an appointment, only walked in and asked if Coach Senton was in. The secretary called for approval then sent me back.
She opens the door wide, stepping back and gesturing toward a chair in the corner. Without a word, she studies me as she walks around and sits behind the large desk that takes up most of the room. I feel her eyes on me as I take in my surroundings. Surprisingly modest and plain, her office is nothing like I expected. On the wall are several team photos dating back to 2004 when she took the head coaching position. There's a large shelf with some plaques and trophies from her own college career. The furniture is sparse and drab, but it's neat and tidy.
No. Not what I expected at all.
But sitting here, across from her, I feel exactly the way I imagined I would. Nervous. Awed. Nauseous.
When Coach loudly clears her throat, my eyes snap to hers, and I finally find my voice. "Umm, sorry. Thank you for meeting with me, Coach. I'm-"
"Eliza Nichols." Her smile grows broader when my eyes widen. "What? You didn't think the best pitcher in the TSSAA could walk into my office without being recognized, did you?" She picks up a pen, rolling it between her fingers, her brows arched in amusement.
"No, I guess not." My mouth is suddenly dry, my hands kneading the hem of my shirt. I can't think of a single thing to say. I rehearsed my speech, even doing that stupid thing people do when they watch themselves in the mirror, but right now, I’ve got nothing.
"I've been expecting you." Her words perplex me, intrigue me, and make me think. They don't make sense, yet they make all the sense in this world. "Eliza?" The way she says my name makes me nervous, but the authority in her voice gets my attention.
"Y-yes?" I stutter, feeling like a starstruck teenager meeting her idol.
"You're the one in my office. Care to tell me why?" She leans forward, fully focused, as she waits for my answer.
"Well, I guess you know I, umm, quit playing ball." I take a deep breath, holding it for as long as I can before releasing it. "Well, anyway, I've been thinking about getting back into it. I mean, not on the team exactly, but I could help out at practices or something. That is, if you'll let me." There. I said it.
"Hmm." I almost just up and run out screaming. I said all of that and that's all I get? A 'hmm'? I'm not even worthy of a real word? Screw this. And then she moves. She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table and studies me for what feels like forever but is probably only seconds. Right when it gets too intense and I drop my gaze, she speaks, "Eliza." She commands my attention. I give it to her. "We don't have a position available, so the best I can offer is a walk-on. You'll be second, maybe third string- get to practice with the girls. With an arm like yours, it will give them a good workout. You may never set foot on the field during a game. Can you live with that?"
I nod. Anything. Anything to get closer to the game I miss.
"One more thing." Her eyes pin me to my chair. "If you ever walk off my field in the middle of the game, don't come back."
"You know about that?" Shame. Guilt. Will I never be free of my past?
"Know about it? I was there."
"But... why?"
"Why was I there or why do I care?" I nod. Either. Both. "I was there to recruit you. I wanted the girl who threw a 70mph fastball. I'm not asking why, and I don't even care. I figure you had your reason for doing it, but it better be life or death if you walk off my field."
Life or death?
It was death.
Mine.
"I won't, Coach." Gulp. "You have my word." I can't die twice, right?
"There's some paperwork we'll have to fill out, probably rearrange your class schedule. I'll need to take a look at your grades. Come back Monday afternoon." She stands, extending her hand to me across the desk. She smiles with her eyes, not her lips. "I look forward to it."
I reach for her hand, give it a quick shake, and turn toward the door.
So matter of fact, so much... easier... than I expected.
I turn back, my eyes meeting hers. "Coach? How did you know I was coming?"
"Eliza, there are some things you just know. You take someone who loves the game, who plays with such fire in her eyes, who lives, eats, and breathes softball... no matter how far she goes, she'll always find a way back."
Those words echo in my head for hours. Days.
You can spend your whole life afraid of something but never know exactly how liberating, how freeing, it can be to face your fears. Especially if you never try.
I cringed every time I drove past the softball field. I hid all of my trophies in the closet. Buried all of my memories of the game- good and bad. And it literally stole a part of my soul.
When I walked onto that makeshift field the other day, I felt, for the first time in a very long time, that I was waking up from a long nightmare. The familiar tug on my heartstrings, the urge to compete, just the very feeling of that ball in my hand... it made me want to fight. It made me want to conquer and win. And when I threw that pitch, I felt alive. I was lost in the moment. There were no consequences. No memories. Just me and the ball.
Something was stolen from me a long time ago, and I continued to rob myself. I just didn't realize it.
No more. Never again.
I've got this.
Chapter 41
Declan
Things are changing.
"There he is!" Liza leans across me, pointing and bouncing on her tiptoes. "Whoo! Seth!" The wind slightly blowing her hair catches my attention. My eyes are drawn to her, an enthusiastic smile flitting across her face. Her eyes are clear and bright, and her laugh is spontaneous, pure, in a way that I've never heard before.
I want to hear that exact sound every time I close my eyes.
Seth runs from the dark football tunnel onto the field. He's the first in formation, leading the team out like the quarterback he is. The stadium explodes around us as people cheer at the sight of the team, feet pounding and arms in the air. A sea of orange and white swirling around us.
In that moment, I don't see or hear anything else but Liza. Her hand, tugging on my fingers, is burning a path up my arm and squeezing my heart. She turns her radiant smile on me, her eyes shining with exuberance, and freezes. I lean in, inhaling her sweet perfume, and allow myself to be drawn into her web. My lips are a breath away from her cheek, and I impulsively steal a quick kiss from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before her face lights up again, and with slight pressure to my fingers, she turns back to the game.
Takes. My. Breath. Away.
The whole fraternity came out to support Seth. It's his first year as starting quarterback, and the guys are pumped.
There must be fifty of us here. The crowd goes wild when Seth hesitates and turns toward the stands, running backward as he flashes us a thumbs up. Girls all around us squeal, assuming he was acknowledging them.
"Did you see him? He was looking right at me!"
"I'll let him score with me!"
"Seth! I'm yours tonight!"
Geesh. This is a football game, not a rock concert, but I guess everybody has to have a hero, someone who makes them feel good about themselves. Corrine is smiling, but her features are twisted with disappointment. Even she knows he wasn't aiming at her.
Quincy and Brody walk in late, holding hands and snuggling against each other. I can't help but watch as they climb the steps and claim their seats in front of us. It's fascinating to watch them. I can't say it doesn't hurt at all, but it doesn't hurt the same. I get a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach when Brody helps Quincy out of her jacket, placing a kiss on her shoulder before turning to give Eric a bro-hug, shoulder bumping him. When his eyes meet mine, I lift my chin and try to hold onto the smile I've been wearing all day.
Quincy twists, flashing a bright smile our way, hugging Jenna then Liza. She shyly looks up at me through her lashes me before turning her attention back to the game.
I find that my heart doesn't ache anymore. My pride is wounded, and I'm still pissed about the way things went down, but I'm not hating life. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, I'm having a great day.
We're beginning to feel like our old selves again- just in a different way.
And the new 'us' isn't so bad. Change may not be such a bad thing after all.
I reach for Liza's hand and watch as Seth executes a perfect pass. The ball zips down the field into the waiting hands of one of the wide receivers. The receiver doesn't have his eyes on the ball. He runs, with his back to Seth, and opens his hands, waiting for the ball that glides flawlessly into his grasp. Beautiful.
A thunderous roar erupts from the stadium as we advance twenty yards before a tackle. From that point on, I'm not sure what happens. I cheer when everyone else cheers, and I pretend to be interested in the game, but there's only one thing I'm interested in. It has nothing to do with football. Or Seth. Or anything else that isn't Liza. She has a way of making me oblivious to everything else. She brings out a side of me that no one else knows, a side that I’m just becoming acquainted with
Liza's been busy lately, studying and working at her new job. I don't like it. Spending less time together has created a sort of anxiousness in me. I feel like she's pulling away from me, like she's slipping through my fingers when I've only just found her.
But I have her for today.
Liza jumps up and down, focused on the game. If only she'd turn my way, she'd see that I only have eyes for her, that I'm perfectly content to spend every minute of every day doing whatever it takes to make her this happy.
Ironically, I find myself in a familiar place. I'm in love with a girl who doesn't love me back. But this time, I'm prepared to fight.
Things are definitely changing.
Chapter 42
Eliza
When Declan invited me to the game, I almost didn't come.
The last few days, I alternated between shocked and excited, happy and scared. Scared to death. I'm not worried about pitching. I know I'm the best at what I do. I'm not even worried about sitting on the bench.
I'm worried about not being able to keep it together. What if I let everyone down again?
I haven't told anyone about making the team. They have no idea that Coach Senton called to give me the news earlier this week. No try-out. No formalities. She was willing to take a chance on me based on a few games she watched over a year ago.
To remain on the team, I have to keep my grades up, or rather, bring my grades up. Right now, I have one D, three Cs and a B. The B must be a fluke. I barely attend class, much less participate. I honestly don't know what I thought I was going to do at the end of the semester when the truth about my grades came out. My parents would have killed me.
I've been in the gym and in the batting cages every night this week. My shoulder aches deeply, throbbing and radiating, from the recent punishment. Something that used to come so easily is now killing me. I ice it ritually, and I don't even know if it's possible, but I think I'm addicted to Motrin. If my arm doesn't clear up soon, I may have to fess up to Coach and sit out a practice or two, and that's the last thing I want to happen.
That's how I ended up here today. My arm is on vacation.
Except my fingers aren't listening. They are curled tightly in Declan's hand, finding warmth and comfort there.
Maybe my brain needs to take a day off, too.
It's getting kind of ridiculous. I've come to accept that I enjoy being in his company way too much, and I've even gotten used to the quick pitter-patter of my heart when he's near. But I know this can't go anywhere, can't be anything more than it is.
I don't deserve him.
I'm completely screwed up on the inside.
I still cringe every time he accidentally brushes against me, and the thought of letting him touch me without a few drinks makes my stomach hurt. He needs someone like Quincy, all sweet and innocent who snuggles and loves and wants to be held.
But God, when he gets dirty and rough, I can't do the right thing. All of the other times, with the other guys, I did all the giving. But naughty Declan, the one who unabashedly fucks me and lets me do all the taking- he fills me up when I'm running on empty.
My eyes are on the game, but my mind and body are somewhere else entirely.
I smile, reliving the moment he lost control and pushed me against that tree on Brody's farm. I like that Declan. Oddly, the closer to the edge I push him, the more powerful I feel.
It's fascinating to watch him give in yet remain so unwavering, so strong. I like who he becomes in those lost moments, mostly because I wish I could go there with him.
I kind of, maybe, just might, possibly want to be wherever he is. A tiny bit.
Cheers and whoops of victory explode around me, bringing me back to the present. Declan's firm grip on my hand is pleasant, welcome even. I like it, but I still don't want to turn into one of those brainless nit-wit PDA attention whores. Holding hands is fine. The rest we do behind closed doors... Or on a farm, out in the open, where anybody could walk up on us... but that's a different story. Hey, at least it was dark.
My mind wanders aimlessly through the events that led me here. It's one thing when life hands you lemons, it's a whole other thing when you deserve them. Yet, here I am. Sitting with the good boy turned bad who's still so good it hurts. Hanging out with people who haven't yet figured out what a fraud I am. And thinking I could totally get used to this.
"Where did you go just now, Eliza?" I turn, my nose grazing Declan's chin. His face is close, his breath teasing the sensitive skin of my cheek. His smile grips my heart, daring me to deny the feelings I have for him. Daring me to own up to them.
I can't. I just... can't.
"Nowhere." My eyes flick to his lips and back up. "I'm here with you."
I'm blessed with another bright smile as his full lips curl seductively. "I'm glad you came. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."
The truth- if I was admitting to such a thing- is that I couldn't avoid him, even if I wanted to. The sweetness of him has burrowed a tiny hole into my heart while the brokenness of him calls out to my soul. It makes me want to believe that two broken people really might be able to make it. That they just might have what it takes to put each other back together.
My body decides to suddenly take notice of the heat of his thigh pressing into mine and the feel of his hard body against my side. His dark, bottomless eyes heatedly drink me in, making me quiver inside. Just a few whispered words, and I want to close my eyes and dive into him.
Football! I scream in my head. We're at a football game for shit's sake!
He notices the moment I withdraw, his knowing smile teasing me.
Sometimes, I wish... well, I wish for things that might never be.
But, God, he makes me think it's possible.
"Screw you." I laugh, elbowing him in the side. I only said I didn't think it would work. I didn't say I wouldn't take all I can get while I have the chance.
"What? It's not my fault you want my body." His dimples, the tiny creases around his eyes, and his husky voice... evil. It's all evil.
"Oh my god. You really are related to Seth!" Damn it. I thaw a little more inside.
Jenna and Corrine jump to their feet, and the crowd goes wild. I stand, my eyes quickly finding Seth as he rushes ten... twenty... fifty yards, the ball cradled in the crook of his arm as he throws his opponents off one at a time. His broad shoulders act as weapons, brushing off several guys as they try to go in for a tackle. It's like watching a machine.
Touchdown! He rolls to the ground when hands wrap around his ankles, but he's in the end zone. He jumps to his feet, dancing and preening for the crowd. He raises an arm and points toward us, toward his brothers. From Seth, I would expect nothing less.
Jenna turns, throwing her arms around me as she jumps up and down, her excitement contagious. Quincy is pumping her fists in the air, and Corrine is wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. The guys whoop loudly, calling to Seth as he's carried from the field on the shoulders of his teammates.
What a rush. I had forgotten how much I love watching football.
We begin walking slowly toward the aisle. It takes over thirty minutes to exit the stadium. Not only is it crowded, but the fans are drunk and rowdy. High on victory.
Declan grasps my hand, pulling me close, and again, I get the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach- the one that tells me I don't deserve any of this.
Outside, Jenna and Quincy beg us to come over to their after-party. My eyes drift to Declan, and I find him watching me, waiting for my response. I open my mouth, fully intent on making an excuse, but my tongue has other plans. Words I never planned to say come tumbling out. "Sure. What time?"
