Play Hard (Make the Play #2)

by Amber Garza

  Taylor’s head is bent over her sandwich so she doesn’t notice me approaching. But her head snaps up when I sink down onto the grass next to her.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, wiping crumbs from her chin. Her lipstick is worn off. It reminds me of how she looked after our kiss, and my heart flips in my chest.

  “Having lunch with you.” Setting my backpack by my feet, I unzip it, reach inside and yank out my lunch bag. It crinkles between my fingers.

  “Why?”

  I unwrap my sandwich. “I saw you sitting out here alone and decided to join you.”

  “What if I told you I like eating alone?”

  “I’d say you were full of crap.” Staring right into her eyes, I take a giant bite of my sandwich. Mayonnaise coats the corner of my mouth, and I wipe it away quickly with my fingers.

  Taylor studies me intently. Then her gaze flickers to the cafeteria doors. “What about your friends?”

  “You’re my friend too.”

  Her lips twitch like she’s about to smile, but she doesn’t. Instead, she leans forward a little, scrunching up her forehead. “I can’t figure you out.”

  “Everyone likes a little mystery, don’t they?” I grin.

  “I guess,” she speaks in a quiet voice.

  My stomach tightens at her response. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. It’s probably better to be straight with her. “But I’m really not that mysterious,” I say honestly. “When it comes to me, what you see is what you get.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” she responds.

  “You don’t?”

  She shakes her head. “When I first saw you I thought you were nothing more than an arrogant jock. But that’s not who you are.”

  My heart lifts. “It’s not?”

  She smiles, and it hypnotizes me. I can stare at that smile all day. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

  “No, it’s not.” She scoots closer to me, and my palms clam up.

  “Who am I?” Swallowing hard, I stare into her eyes.

  “You’re someone I need to stay far away from.”

  I recoil. That’s not what I was expecting at all. I’ve done nothing but treat her nicely. I even saved her from that sketchy ex of hers. Does she really think I’m a bad guy? “What did he do to you?”

  “Who?” Her eyebrows knit together.

  “Your ex.” I pause, trying to recall his name. “Dusty,” I finally say, remembering.

  She slinks away from me, her face paling. It makes me want to shove the word back in my mouth.

  Staring at the ground, she picks at a blade of grass. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  Screw it. I’m not losing her because of Dusty. He’s already hurt her enough. I won’t let him be the reason she can’t open up to me. Reaching out, I tuck my finger under my chin. Gently, I guide her head upward until those dark eyes crash into mine. A storm rages inside her irises, and I long to erase it. To replace it with sunny skies, water as still as glass. “I’m not like him.”

  “I know. That’s what scares me.”

  Again, her response stuns me.

  Drawing back, she snatches her lunch and backpack off the ground, and stands. “I have to go.”

  “Wait.” I leap up. “Stay.”

  “I can’t.” Her chest heaves with each labored breath.

  What is she scared of?

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “For whatever I did or said that scared you.”

  She blows out a frustrated breath. “Why do you have to be so damn nice?”

  A chuckle arises from my throat. “I gotta say, this is the first time a girl’s been angry with me for being too nice.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not like most girls.”

  “That I know.”

  She frowns. A group of girls bound past us, leaving a trail of perfume in their wake. They glance over at us, but I ignore them.

  “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I like that you’re different.”

  “You don’t even know me.” She doesn’t elaborate, but I know what she’s hinting at. I can hear the unspoken words. She thinks if I knew her, I wouldn’t like her. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps the thing that she’s hiding is so bad I won’t be able to see past it. Then again, maybe it’s not. I wish she’d give me the opportunity to decide which one it is instead of making the decision for me.

  “Then change that,” I say. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your hobbies.” Baseball doesn’t define me, but it does give people a sense of who I am. And I find that if I know what someone’s into, it helps me understand them better.

  “I ride skateboards.”

  “You do?” She dresses like a skater girl, but I thought it was a stylistic choice. “I’ve never seen you ride.”

  She shifts uncomfortably. “Well, I haven’t really ridden since I’ve been here.”

  There’s more to the story, but I drop it, not wanting to push her. I want to keep her talking, keep her here with me. “But you can do tricks and stuff?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Her face lights up.

  “You’ll have to show me sometime.” I’d love to see her on her board, see her in her element. Once again, I’m fascinated by her.

  An apology flashes in her eyes. “I really can’t do this, Cal. I’m sorry.”

  “Can’t do what? Can’t show me skateboard tricks?” I joke, wanting to go back to where we were a minute ago.

  “No. I can’t do any of this.” She points between us.

  “You mean you can’t be my friend?”

  “Is that what we are? Friends?”

  I freeze, wondering how honest I can be. Moving closer to her, I inhale her unfamiliar scent. It’s different, a mix of vanilla and spice, yet not overpowering. My head spins. She doesn’t push me away, and pretty soon I’m so close our breath mingles. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Taylor. The truth is, that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since our kiss. And I can’t promise that I’ll never want a repeat of that. But if friendship is all you can give right now, I’m cool with it.”

  “I could use a friend,” she whispers.

  “Then I’m your guy.” I smile. She bites her lip, and I inhale sharply. Pink spots appears where her teeth sank into the sensitive flesh. Without thinking, my face nears hers. I long to feel those silky lips against mine.

  “Cal.” With open palms, she pushes me back a little. “Friends, remember?”

  “And friends can’t kiss?” I ask innocently.

  “No. They can’t,” she says firmly, but the redness in her cheeks tells me something different.

  “Okay.” I throw up my arms in surrender. “Friendship only. I get it.”

  “So no more kissing, then?”

  “No more kissing until you give the green light.” I lean over, placing my mouth by her ear. “And trust me, at some point you’ll give me the green light.” Pulling back, I flash her an amused smile. “See ya tonight at the game, friend. And don’t forget to wear the jacket.”

  As I walk off, she watches me wearing a dumbfounded expression. It gives me a sense of satisfaction to know that I confuse her as much as she confuses me.

  Taylor

  I fell for Dusty the first time I saw him skate. I’d never seen anyone as good as him. I still haven’t. There was nothing more thrilling than watching Dusty in his element. Even after everything that’s happened between us, there’s no denying his skill.

  The same way I felt watching Dusty is how I feel at this moment watching Cal in his baseball game. I may not know much about this sport, but it’s clear how good Cal is. When my gaze sweeps the stands, I can tell everyone else here thinks the same thing. Especially the girls. My stomach sours as I catch the lovesick expressions of most of the females sitting near me on the bleachers.

  It makes me kind of wish I’d worn Cal’s jacket the way he told me too. But the minut
e the thought enters, I silence it. Girlfriends are supposed to wear their boyfriend’s jacket, and I’m not Cal’s girlfriend. As nice as that sounds, I don’t think I ever can be.

  In fact, I’m kind of shocked that I’m even here. I hadn’t planned on attending the game. Baseball isn’t something that appeals to me, and the last thing I want to do is lead Cal on. It’s clear that he was inviting me here as more than a friend. Our chemistry is undeniable when we’re together, and I know that I need to keep my distance for both of our sakes. But when I went home, I couldn’t get Cal out of my head. I kept picturing the smile on his face when he joined me for lunch. And I kept conjuring up the feel of his breath on my face and neck when he leaned in close and whispered in my ear. The more I thought about him, the more I longed to go to his game.

  Students at the school talk about Cal like he’s a god, and honestly, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I see it now. Staring at him out on the mound, my stomach flip flops. The muscles on his arm bulge with every pitch, and his expression is intense in a way that sends chills down my spine.

  “Hey,” a girl’s voice startles me.

  My head snaps up in the direction of it. Emmy sinks down onto the bleacher next to me. Her cheeks and nose are rosy from the cool night air, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail at the top of her head. She’s wearing a jacket similar to Cal’s and a pair of dark denim jeans. I glance down at my ripped jeans, black t-shirt and Converse tennis shoes. My dark hair is pulled back too, but not into a high pony. It’s tangled at the base of my neck in a messy knot underneath my black beanie. I marvel at how different Emmy and I are. Honestly, I’m different from every girl in the stands. Once again, I wonder what Cal’s interest in me is. It seems unfathomable that he would really be attracted to me. Is it only because I’m different? Because I bring excitement? I sure hope not.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” Emmy continues.

  “You and me both,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Are you here to watch Cal?”

  Her question causes me to ponder if he’s talked to her about us. Does she know about our kiss? About Dusty? “Um…yeah. He invited me.” I squirm in my seat.

  “Cool.” She flashes me a large, toothy grin, and then returns her attention to the field. The catcher jumps up to snatch the ball, and Emmy leaps up, squealing so loud I worry she might have ruptured my eardrum. My gaze flickers to the back of her jacket. The name ALCOTT is printed across her shoulder blades. “Sorry about that,” she says breathlessly when she sits back down. “I get so excited when Chris makes a good catch.”

  “Chris is your boyfriend, right?”

  She nods, her smile deepening.

  “And he’s Cal’s best friend?” I ask, connecting all the puzzle pieces.

  She nods again, her smile slipping a little.

  “That must be awkward.”

  She shrugs. “It was at first. It’s getting easier with time.” She gives me a conspiratorial look. “Cal’s a super overprotective brother, and he’s never really liked any of my boyfriends. So it was definitely an adjustment when I started dating his best friend, but he’s coming around.”

  “I can imagine,” I say, biting my lip. Overprotective, huh? I’m definitely seeing a pattern here.

  “But it’s worth it.” Emmy isn’t looking at me. Her gaze is fixed on her boyfriend. “Chris and I connect in a way I never thought possible. And I’ve never been with a guy who treats me so well, a guy who makes me so happy.”

  My chest tightens, and I find it difficult to draw breath. A montage of all my interactions with Cal float through my mind. I envision the way he held me close, shielding me from Dusty. And the way he insisted on driving me home. Also, how concerned he seemed the next morning when the rumors were floating around the school. If I allowed myself to open up to Cal, if I allowed a relationship to unfold between us, would he make me happier than I’ve ever been?

  Emmy jumps up again, squealing, and it cuts into my internal thoughts. I glance up to see the Prairie Creek Panthers exiting the field.

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  “You don’t know anything about baseball, do you?” Emmy raises her eyebrows.

  Embarrassed, I shake my head.

  “That’s okay. I know a lot, so you’re sitting by the right person.” She launches into the ins and outs of the game, and I listen as intently as I can. But pretty soon, I zone out. One thing is clear to me: Emmy likes to talk. Once she gets going, there’s almost no stopping her.

  I say ‘almost,’ because one thing does stop her – when the boys take the field again. Once Chris is positioned behind home plate (one piece of information I did pay attention to) her eyes never leave him. She’s transfixed. It’s kind of amazing. A few times he peers over at her, throwing her winks or smiles. Their connection is palpable, and it makes me a little uncomfortable. But it also gives me another feeling. One I’m not nearly as familiar with. Longing. Envy. I find myself wanting what they have.

  Since coming to Prairie Creek, I’ve realized that relationships can be beautiful. Love doesn’t have to hurt. It doesn’t have to be co-dependent or all-consuming or desperate. It doesn’t have to break your heart. Now I’m curious what a healthy relationship would feel like, and I wonder if it’s possible for someone like me.

  Especially now.

  I doubt it, but a part of me wants to try.

  “Excuse me.” I’m kneed in the back, and I almost fall off the bench. I right myself and glance over my shoulder at the girl sitting behind me. Coughing, I smother my hand to block out her strong, floral scent. When my gaze connects with the culprit, I recognize her as a girl from my math class. Ashley, I think her name is. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

  “That’s okay,” I respond before turning back around. When I do, I notice Emmy glaring in Ashley’s direction, her whole body tense with anger. What’s going on there? Before I can ask her, the stands erupt in cheers, and Emmy goes back to ignoring everyone but Chris.

  The game isn’t as boring as I had assumed it would be. I actually end up enjoying it, and pretty soon it’s over. After a quick pep talk with the coach, the boys disperse. The minute Chris walks in our direction, Emmy says a quick goodbye and heads toward him. When they meet up, Chris wraps his arms around her and draws her close.

  In the distance I spot Ashley trailing after one of the other guys on the team, but he hardly pays any attention to her. It reminds me of how Dusty often treated me in public, and it makes me sad.

  “You made it.” Cal’s voice startles me.

  I whirl around to face him. His face is red and shiny, damp tufts of hair sticking out from under his cap. He smells like dirt, sweat, and faintly of deodorant. I’ve never seen anyone look so good before.

  “Yeah,” I respond shyly.

  Reaching out, he touches the sleeve of my shirt. “No jacket though.” Disappointment taints his tone, and it peeks my curiosity.

  “Why did you want me to wear it?”

  “Cal!” A few girls shriek in unison from behind me. Cal glances over my shoulder, a smile appearing on his face. Pretty soon I’m crowded by big hair, perfume, and pink shirts. I can’t make out what they’re all saying since they’re talking over one another, but I know it’s all compliments toward Cal. Some of them are even bold enough to reach out and touch his arm. But the thing that bothers me the most is that they treat me like I’m invisible. Sickened by the whole display, I duck under their arms and break away.

  “Taylor!” Cal’s voice cuts through all the gushing.

  I freeze.

  “Excuse me, girls.” He shoves past the group. “I appreciate you coming to the game, but I’m kinda in the middle of something.” His eyes never leave mine as he speaks. I hear huffing from the group of girls, and I’m sure they’re pouting, but I don’t look at them. I’m too busy staring into Cal’s eyes. In fact, I’m not sure “staring” is the right word. Drowning is more like it. His gaze is drawing me in, pulling me under, and I have
no desire to fight it. As the girls move out of the way, he steps toward me. When he reaches me, he rests his hands on my waist. My body goes rigid, but I don’t move. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the other girls stalking away, throwing angry glances over their shoulders. But I don’t care about them. All I care about is the boy in front of me. So I ignore them, allowing myself to be pulled back into his gaze. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever given my jacket to. Did you know that?”

  My mouth goes dry. I shake my head.

  “I know you want to know why, but I don’t know if I can give you an answer.” His hold on my waist tightens, as if he’s locking me in place. “I can’t explain the way I feel when I’m with you. It’s weird. From that first moment we spoke I felt something between us, and after we kissed, I couldn’t shake it.” He angles his face, his lips nearing mine. “Please tell me you feel it too.”

  It’s happening again. That vortex feeling. He’s got me under his spell, and I’m not strong enough to resist.

  “Yes, I do,” I breathe out.

  He practically moans in response, his mouth so close it almost touches mine. My heart beats erratically in my chest, and my knees soften. Luckily, Cal’s hands hold me steady.

  “Taylor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I made you a promise, remember?” Hot breath fans over my lips.

  My palms moisten as I long to feel his lips on mine desperately. Isn’t he going to kiss me? I lick my lips, staring at his.

  He groans. “I won’t back down on my promise, but you’re making it difficult.”

  I rack my brain. What the hell is he talking about? “What promise?”

  “No more kissing.” he pauses, his eyes searching my face. “Until you give the green light.”

  “Green light,” I say quickly.

  He smiles. “Told you.” Before I can say anything in my defense, his bottom lip brushes mine. I feel heady, and I worry I might fall over. Reaching out, I clutch his shirt, bunching it between my fingers. My fingertips light on his taut chest muscles, causing a wave of desire to wash over me. His hands slide around the back of my waist, warmth seeping into my back. His body presses to mine as he exerts more pressure, both our top and bottom lips connecting. His lips are moist and hot, and I don’t even care that he smells like he’s been working out. When I was dating Dusty, I always hated kissing him after he’d been skating. I didn’t like getting the salty taste of sweat on my lips. And I hated inhaling the dirt smell that lingered on his body. But nothing about Cal repels me right now. If anything, I want to stay in this moment for the rest of my life. Cool air flicks over my back and skates across my neck, and I shiver.