by Amber Garza
Dusty never made allowances for me. If he wanted to go to a party and I couldn’t go, he went without me. It was never about spending time with me. It was about doing what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. I’ve only known Cal a short time, and already he seems to care about me more than Dusty ever did. It’s baffling. Also, it confirms my decision to let him off the hook so easily tonight. I may have freaked out, but clearly he wasn’t trying to control me when he suggested a friendship with Emmy.
Reaching up, I gently touch his chin, my fingertips trailing the light stubble dusting it. “I feel the same way.”
Clutching me tighter, he angles his face downward. I slide my hand around his face, curving my palm over his cheek. He doesn’t have on a baseball cap tonight, so the edges of my fingers feather over his hair. His hands slip up my back as his lips lightly fan over mine. I kiss him back greedily, hungrily, my tongue thrusting out of my mouth and melding with his. I plan to enjoy every second with Cal until I’m forced to let him go. I know I’m running out of time, and that causes desperation to rise inside of me. Keeping one hand on his face, I run my other palm over his chest, feeling his hard muscles through his shirt. He’s more muscular than Dusty ever was. Stronger physically. However, I know if he and Dusty ever got in a fight, Dusty would win. Not because Dusty is stronger, but because Dusty fights dirty. Not that I have to worry about that. Dusty doesn’t want me anymore. He wants what I have of his, and that has nothing to do with Cal. In fact, when Cal finds out about it, I’m sure he’ll be long gone. At the thought, a chill runs up my spine. Cal draws me even closer.
“For a city girl, you sure can’t handle the cold at all,” he murmurs against my lips.
I smile. “Maybe I just like giving you an excuse to hold me.”
“Maybe I don’t need an excuse,” he says, before covering my mouth with his once again.
****
I was shocked when my aunt and uncle gave me permission to go out with Cal. Honestly, I think it was partly the double date thing that did it. Going out with a group seemed safer to them. Not that I got off scot-free. In order to get them to say yes, I promised to attend church tomorrow morning. Since moving here, I’d yet to attend a service. Uncle Alex and Aunt Molly invited me every week. In fact, they more than invited me. They had practically begged me to come, but I always declined.
This time I told them I’d come. I said it before I asked about going out tonight. I figured a little buttering up might work. I was right.
However, as I search for something to wear, I regret my decision to go out. Since moving here, my jeans have started to fit more and more snugly. Now I can’t even button the damn things. Besides, springtime seems to be in full bloom. It’s not nearly as chilly as it was when I first got here. Not even in the evenings. Therefore, jeans probably aren’t a good choice.
Cal said we were going out to dinner, so I want to look nice for him. Ripped jeans and a t-shirt isn’t exactly nice. I peruse through my drawers until I find what I’m looking for. Smiling, I take out my little black skirt. Mom had purchased it for me last year when we had to attend the funeral of a family friend. After putting it on, I find one of my only shirts that isn’t a t-shirt. It’s a long sleeved gray shirt. So it’s still not a fancy outfit, but it’s a little better. At least it’s not too tight. In the back of the closet, I find a pair of black sandals. I remember Mom prompting me to pack them even though I didn’t want to. Now I’m glad she insisted.
After getting dressed, I brush my long dark hair. Usually I wear it in a messy bun or ponytail at the nape of my neck. But tonight I straighten it until it falls sleekly down my back. My motto with makeup has always been “the darker the better.” Mom hates it, although I’d argue that Dad hates it even more. Of course, he’s been completely freaked out by me since I grew boobs. If he had his way, I would’ve been locked in a tower like Rapunzel years ago. There have been moments that I wish he would have done just that.
For several years Mom has been recommending that I tone down my makeup, maybe try some neutral colors. She even bought me a softer eye palette, but I’ve never used it.
However, tonight I pull it out. I open it, taking in the creamy peach and copper colors. Sweeping my eyeshadow brush over one of the lighter colors, I try it out on my lid. As soon as I take in my reflection, I reach for a tissue. It doesn’t look like me, and Cal fell for me. I don’t want to completely change myself. It’s one thing to wear a skirt to go out to dinner. Even wearing my hair down isn’t too big of a stretch. I’ve worn it down before. But wearing the same kind of makeup as every other girl in this town is entirely different.
Cal likes that I’m unique. He’s told me that.
Then again, I’m not sure the dark makeup started because it was something I liked. I think it may have been something Dusty liked. Or maybe it was what I thought I was supposed to wear because all of his ex-girlfriends wore their makeup like this. I don’t even know anymore.
Staring at myself in the mirror, it hits me that I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I would dress like, or wear my hair and makeup like if I was only trying to please myself. For much of my life I’ve been trying to please someone else. I’ve been choosing my look based on another person. I don’t want to do that anymore, but I honestly don’t know how I want to look for me.
Perplexed, I bite my lip, deep in thought.
In the end, I wear my favorite purple lipstick and shimmering shadow. I still line my eyes in black liner, but I don’t wing them. I’m finishing up when I hear a knock at the door. My heart stops as my uncle’s shoes click on the hardwood floors. Muffled voices reach my ears after he answers.
It’s weird having Cal pick me up for a date. Dusty and I went out for over a year, but I can’t think of one time that he picked me up to take me out. It’s one of the reasons my parents didn’t like him. We always met up at mutual friends’ houses or parties. Sometimes we went out for a bite to eat, but it was never a formal date, and he didn’t always pay for me.
So in some ways tonight feels like my first date. Kind of sad that after having numerous boyfriends I’ve never been on an actual date.
Taking a deep breath, I open my bedroom door and head downstairs. When I reach the bottom, Cal’s head lifts. He was in midsentence, but the words trail off. His mouth stays open though as he takes me in.
“Wow. You look amazing.” Stepping away from my uncle, Cal sweeps me up into his arms. My feet briefly lift from the floor. “You always look gorgeous, but tonight you’re stunning.”
My cheeks warm. From over Cal’s shoulder, Uncle Alex wears a look of concern. But behind him I catch Aunt Molly beaming. I smile back at her, grateful that one of them is happy for me.
“I’ll have her home by curfew,” Cal says to Uncle Alex. “Not a minute later.”
“Thank you,” Uncle Alex responds, tipping his head. “And I look forward to seeing you in church tomorrow too.”
After saying goodbye to my aunt and uncle, Cal and I step outside. I glance over at Cal, one eyebrow raised. “What was that about?”
“Oh, nothing. Your uncle was just making me aware of your curfew.”
“No, the last thing about you going to church tomorrow. Do you go every week?” I had no idea Cal went to church. It makes me kind of wish I’d attended sooner.
“Not always. My parents go most weeks, and I join them when I can.” He smiles. “I heard you were going tomorrow, so I’ll for sure be there now.”
I grin. Church doesn’t sound so bad now.
CAL
“Ready?” I shout from the mound. It’s dark outside, moonlight shining down on us.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Taylor responds in a dubious tone.
“I won’t throw the ball very hard. I promise.” I wink to her before gently lobbing the ball in her direction.
She swings the bat in an awkward way, but oddly enough she makes contact with the ball. After hitting it, she drops the bat and runs toward first. The ball doesn’t go far. In fact, it do
esn’t even reach the mound. Taking a few steps forward, I pluck it out of the grass. Chris is standing at first, his hand open. I know I can throw it to him and he’ll catch it no problem, but I give Taylor time to reach the base.
Chris can see what I’m doing, but he smiles, giving me a subtle nod.
“I made it!” Taylor squeals from first, and her excited scream makes it all worth it.
The funny thing is that this game was the girls’ idea. And it was also their idea to team up against us. I would have laughed at them, but they seemed so serious. Besides, I like that they’re getting along so well. Tonight was perfect. I’m glad now that it didn’t work out to go to the party. Going on a double date with Em and Chris is exactly what we needed. Over dinner, Em and Taylor were able to put yesterday behind them, and ended up having a great conversation. That also gave Chris and me a chance to catch up.
Well, as much as two guys catch up. I’m sort of embarrassed to say we mostly talked sports.
“All right. My turn,” Em hollers, bat in hand. She’s swinging it around like she’s seen the guys on the team do.
I chuckle. “Okay, calm down, Babe Ruth.”
She sticks out her tongue at me, and then gets in position. I lob the ball to her. She swings and misses. A stream of laughter pours from my lips.
“Shut up.” She scoops up the ball and throws it back to me. It falls in the grass a few feet from the mound.
“Nice throw,” I tease her.
“It’s okay, baby.” Chris claps from outfield. “You got this.”
“Whose team are you on?” I turn around and scowl at him.
“Sorry,” Chris mutters under his breath.
My gaze rests on Taylor. She lifts her brows at me, her lips curling at the edges. Grinning, I return my attention to Emmy.
“Ready?” I ask.
“As I’ll ever be,” she responds firmly.
“If you say so,” I mumble, then throw the ball to her.
This time she actually hits it. Of course it careens toward Chris, and I know he won’t get her out. I spin around and watch the scene unfold. To my surprise, Chris lunges for the ball. He doesn’t catch it, but he does snatch it up off the ground. Then he races in Em’s direction. It’s then that I realize what’s happening. After tagging her with the ball, he tackles her to the ground. She screams as they roll onto the grass together.
“This isn’t football,” I remind them, but they don’t even hear me. Glancing over at Taylor, who is now standing on second base, I flash her an apologetic look. “Looks like the game might be over.”
“That’s fine.” She shrugs, stepping off of second and ambling over to me. “When I suggested it, I mostly just wanted to spend more time with you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.” Smiling, she touches my arm. “I like seeing you in action.”
I grab her by the hands. “I can show you even more action if you want.”
Falling against me, she giggles. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
The laughter falls from my lips, and I grow serious. “Only if you do. I’ll never push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” It’s a truth I need to keep reminding her of. I never want her to forget it.
“Ever kiss a girl on the mound?” She asks, changing the subject. Not that I’m complaining. I like the direction this is headed.
“No, I haven’t.”
With a sly gleam in her eyes she’s nears me. Her head tilts, her lips sliding over mine. I crush my mouth to hers, pressing her body to mine. When we part, she stares into my eyes. “Well, you have now.”
The baseball field isn’t a place I usually bring girls. Sure, they come to my games. And there has been the occasional girl I’ve made out with under the bleachers. But never right here. I think because this is my sacred place. It belongs to me and my teammates. But it feels right having Taylor here with me.
It feels right that she was my first kiss on the mound.
Taylor
Getting ready for church poses as much of a challenge as preparing for my date did. Nothing fits me. Not even my loosest pants, which are the ones I’ve practically been living in lately. With a groan, I cinch my robe around my middle and hurry down the hallway toward my aunt and uncle’s room. I rap twice on their door, and wait. It’s the first time I’ve approached their room, and it feels strange. I know Uncle Alex is already at the church, so I feel more comfortable about it. If he was home, I probably wouldn’t bother. With how lovey-dovey they always are, the last thing I’d want to do is interrupt something. At the mere thought, I shudder with disgust.
The door swings open, Aunt Molly’s eyes wide with concern. “Taylor? You okay?”
“Yeah.” I bite my lip. “I need new clothes.”
She nods with understanding. “Okay. We can go shopping this afternoon.” Pausing, she glances down at my robe. “Do you have something you can wear this morning?”
I think about the skirt I wore last night. It’s a little dirty from playing baseball in it, but it will probably work. “Yeah, I think so.”
Scurrying back to my room, I pluck the skirt out of the pile of clothes on the floor. Aunt Molly put a clothes hamper in my room, but I always forget to use it. At home I used to throw my dirty clothes in the corner of my room until laundry day. We didn’t have a washer and dryer in our apartment, so Mom went to the laundromat on Sundays. I guess old habits die hard.
Carrying the skirt to the bathroom, I scrub out a couple of the dirt stains. A smile leaps to my face, remembering how fun last night was. It was so different from the nights Dusty and I went out. Those nights usually ended in Dusty getting high or drunk. Often he’d pass out and I’d have to find a ride home or walk.
Last night Cal not only drove me home, but he walked me to my front door. Dusty never did that. Everything about my life here is new and exciting. Sometimes it doesn’t even seem real. Like I’ve stepped into a fantasy. Honestly, it feels like a dream, and I wish I never had to wake up from it.
I wish there was a way to hold onto it forever.
After cleaning off the skirt, I head back to my room. After hurriedly getting dressed, I pull my hair into its usual messy bun and then apply some makeup. I’m finishing up when Aunt Molly knocks on my door.
“Taylor? You ready?” She calls.
“Yeah.” I glance one last time at the mirror and then head to my door. Aunt Molly is waiting in the kitchen when I get downstairs. She’s wearing a peach shirt, cream colored skirt and tall brown boots. Her hair is curled in soft waves around her face. After taking a swig of coffee, she grabs her purse and we head outside.
The weather is nice and warm this morning, the sun beating down on us from the cloudless sky. Once inside Aunt Molly’s car, she turns on some light music and drives the short distance to the church. The parking lot is full by the time we arrive.
“Wow. Does the whole town come here?” I ask.
“Most people do.” She smiles before exiting the car.
I follow behind her until we reach the front doors. Two men stand on either side holding a stack of papers.
“Welcome,” the one closest to me says, thrusting a paper into my hand. When I glance down, I realize it’s the church bulletin. “You must be Taylor.”
I nod.
“I’m Mark,” the man says. “Pastor Alex told us you’d be coming today.”
“Hi, Mark,” I respond awkwardly, and then glance over at Aunt Molly. She greets Mark and then gently touches my arm before guiding me inside. Stained glass windows line the wall, casting an orangey glow over the chapel. Pews line the room, and they are almost all filled with people. Aunt Molly stops to greet people as she walks forward. She introduces me to them, and I greet them politely. Then I see Cal, and I freeze. He’s wearing slacks and a collared shirt, his hair is sleek and gelled. I’ve never seen him like this, and I inhale sharply.
“Excuse me,” I say to Aunt Molly before breaking away from her. Cal spots me as I walk toward him.
His head bobs up, a smile stretching across his face. He stands when I reach him. After giving me a swift hug, he indicates the pew he’d been sitting in.
“I saved you a seat.” Looking past the empty seat, I spot Cal’s mom and sister, and who I am assuming is his dad. Stomach knotting, I sink down onto the hard bench.
“Hey, Taylor.” Emmy leans over, flashing me a smile.
“Hey.”
Cal sits next to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Mom, Dad,” he says. “This is Taylor.”
“Hi, Taylor.” His dad stands, and juts out his hand. I take it in mine.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“Hi, Taylor,” his mom says, and she seems more friendly than the last time. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I say.
“Oh, that’s right. You’ve already met,” Cal mumbles.
Music starts playing, and everyone faces forward. The people who are standing scurry to find seats. Aunt Molly makes her way to the front row and sits down. Her gaze scours the room until she finds me. I can’t help but notice the relieved smile that passes over her face. Did she think I’d left?
Uncle Alex takes the podium and asks everyone to stand. I marvel at how different he seems up there in front of everyone. At home he’s so approachable. Here he’s larger than life. Obediently, we all stand. The choir begins singing, and everyone joins in. I try my best to follow along with the words projected on a large screen in front of the room. It’s not that I’ve never been to church. My parents took me a couple of times for Christmas, but I still feel out of my element. As if noticing my discomfort, Cal rubs my back gently. My nerves settle with each stroke.
When worship is over we take our seats, and Uncle Alex approaches the podium again. I settle back in my seat as he speaks. Cal’s hand finds mine, our fingers threading. I love the way his skin feels, all warm and calloused. His hands are so much larger than mine, and for some reason it makes me feel safe, secure.
I’m so focused on Cal’s touch that I don’t even hear what Uncle Alex is saying, until one word emerges, breaking through my internal reverie.
