Play Dirty (Make the Play #4)

by Amber Garza

  We watch the boys play for a few minutes in silence, and then Coach Hopkins calls them over to him. Josh’s head swivels in our direction, and I hold my breath. When I first got here I imagined this moment. I pictured Josh beaming at me while Ashley seethed with jealousy and Hayes looked on with discomfort. When Ashley and Josh were dating, she would get so upset with how poorly he treated her when she came to the practices and games. I remember feeling bad for her at the time.

  But today Josh doesn’t react that way to me. His lips spread into a large grin as his gaze rests on me and his mom. He bobs his head toward us, and his mom appears happier than I’ve seen her all night. It makes me smile too. Not a fake one either.

  Deep down, I know this is all part of the plan. I know that Josh is only smiling at me to make Ashley jealous, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels real. It feels like he’s genuinely happy to see me.

  The weird part is that I desperately want to believe that’s true.

  “You should come over for dinner,” Josh’s mom says suddenly.

  The boys have jogged off the field and are now huddled around Coach Hopkins. I glance over my shoulder at Ashley. She’s busy typing something on her phone. It makes me wonder if she’s noticed anything about Josh or me at all.

  “Tonight?”

  “No.” Ms. Easton shakes her head. “I’m afraid tonight will be take-out. What about Friday night?”

  I think about all the times Josh has turned down my offer to come over to my house for dinner. There’s no way he’d be on board with this. I’m about to shake my head and graciously decline, when she continues.

  “It will be so much fun. It’s just been Josh and me lately. Not much reason to entertain.”

  She’s so lonely that it would be impossible to turn her down. “Sure.” I bite my lip. “I’d love to come over.”

  She rubs her palms together in anticipation, her eyes lighting up. “Great.”

  When she settles back down on the bench, I’m glad I said yes. I have no idea what Josh will think about it, but it doesn’t matter. His mom’s broad smile reveals that I’ve done the right thing. Lately it seems that all I do is screw up or hurt people. It’s nice to know that I can still make someone happy. That I still have some humanity left inside. That not everything I do is for a selfish motive.

  JOSH

  Usually I don’t welcome an audience when playing ball. I don’t mind my parents watching. In fact, when I was a kid there was nothing better than looking into the stands and seeing my parents sitting there. And even though I’d never admit it, I feel sad when my dad misses a game now. He used to make sure to come to every single one. But that was before Olivia. Before he left my mom and me for another woman.

  It’s girlfriends in the stands that bother me. The other guys seem to love when their girlfriends come watch them play. Hell, Ashley even comes out to cheer Hayes on during practice, and he eats it up. But I’ve never liked it.

  Mostly because girls expect attention. They don’t just want to sit on the bleacher quietly. They want to holler things out, and it’s normally the wrong thing at the wrong time. And they’re not happy if I don’t acknowledge them. But the thing is, that when I’m on the field I need to stay focused on baseball. I can’t get distracted.

  And girls are a distraction, plain and simple.

  I know that the other guys think I’m a jerk when I ignore the girls who come watch me. Cal and Chris used to give me crap for it when I was dating Emmy. I’ve even lost girlfriends over it. But I’m honestly not trying to be mean. I’m trying to keep my head in the game. I’m doing what’s best for the team…and for myself. Okay, so maybe that sounds selfish, but baseball is important to me. My future rides on it.

  But seeing Talia sitting on the bleachers chatting it up with my mom stirs unexpected feelings in my heart. Feelings that are surprising, and a little unnerving. As my gaze rests on them, my lips curl upward at the corners. Before I know it, a full-on smile has erupted on my face. When Talia smiles back, my heart stutters. I know she’s here as part of the plan. She’s here to make Hayes jealous. That’s all this is. But when our eyes meet, it doesn’t feel like pretend, and it scares me how much I wish it wasn’t. Swallowing hard, I turn away.

  “Whoa.” Nolan swaggers in my direction. “What’s got into you?”

  “Nothin’.” I press my lips together, forcing a serious expression. It’s not something I typically have to work at.

  His gaze slips over my shoulder, one eyebrow cocking. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  I shake my head at him, hoping he’ll quiet down before the other guys hear.

  “I’ve never seen you like this, man,” he continues.

  We approach the guys as they huddle around Coach Hopkins. “Let it go. It’s not a big deal,” I speak through gritted teeth, throwing him a stern expression.

  Wordlessly, he throws his arms up in surrender. We join the huddle, and I try to shake off my thoughts about Talia, but it’s no use. Nolan’s right. I’ve never been like this before. Not about any girl.

  So why am I suddenly feeling this way about a girl who isn’t even mine? A girl who’s using me to get to someone else? My head bobs up. When I spot Hayes, jealousy burns through me, and this time it has nothing to do with Ashley.

  Oh, man. This is bad.

  ***

  My mom has always loved to entertain. Growing up, my parents threw dinner parties and barbecues at our house almost weekly. And Mom would spend days getting everything ready. Everything was so lavish that her friends often told her that she should start her own catering company. I think she may have considered it at one point.

  But when Dad left, the parties stopped. It’s not that Mom no longer had friends. Everyone in town knew what Dad did, and Mom’s friends rallied around her. However, Mom pushed them all away. At first they tried to be understanding, but eventually they turned their backs on her. They didn’t get why she was acting the way she was, but I did.

  She didn’t want their pity. She didn’t want people to feel sorry for her.

  But more than that. She felt like a failure. No one saw that more than me, and it tore me apart. Mom wasn’t a failure. None of this was her fault. And it killed me that she thought it was.

  When Talia first told me she was coming over tonight, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. But now that I see how happy it’s made my mom, I’m glad I went along with it. Mom seems like her old self. In the days leading up to Talia coming over, Mom pulled out her recipe books. She planned the menu, went grocery shopping, cleaned the house, and started prepping the night before. It reminded me of how she used to behave before the dinner parties. Plus, that sparkle in her eyes that had faded when she and dad split up was back.

  “You really went all out,” I say, as I help Mom clean up after dinner. My stomach is so full it pushes painfully against the waistband of my jeans.

  “It’s not every day you bring a girlfriend home.” Mom sets a dish down in the sink and turns on the faucet. “Besides, I really like Talia.”

  My chest tightens at her words. She’s right. I don’t often bring girlfriends home. That’s why I shouldn’t have let Talia come over tonight. But it seemed so important to Mom. At least that’s what I told myself. However, deep down I don’t think that’s the whole reason.

  “You two need any help?” Talia appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

  My heart stutters in my chest. Tonight wasn’t part of the plan. Hayes wasn’t here to impress, and yet Talia had shown up at my house looking all kinds of sexy in a tight dress, her hair sleek down her back.

  I swallow hard, waving away her offer. “It’s okay. We’ve got it.”

  But she doesn’t listen. Instead, she steps further into the room bringing her sweet, tempting scent with her. Involuntarily, I step backwards, my spine hitting the edge of the counter. Mom throws me a smile from where she stands over the sink rinsing a dish. This is why I don’t like bringing girls home. It makes things too real. Too intimate.<
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  “It seems silly for me to sit in the family room by myself,” Talia says. “Please let me help.”

  “You can get out the dessert.” Mom bobs her head toward the fridge.

  “There’s dessert?” Talia’s eyebrows shoot up.

  Mom nods. “I baked a pie.”

  “I love pie,” Talia says, reaching for the door handle on the fridge. “But dinner was already so great. I can’t believe you baked a pie too.”

  My lips curl upward at the edges. Mom grins. “Oh, it was nothing.” But she’s wrong. It was something, and I love how Talia acknowledges it. How she doesn’t take it for granted. Dad always did. Mom would slave away when we had company, and at the end of the night he’d head upstairs without one word of gratitude. She pretended it didn’t bother her, but I saw the crinkle in the corner of her eyes, the slight frowning of her lips, that told me it stung.

  “It was wonderful, Mom.” I set down the container I’d been filling with leftover food and swiftly press a kiss to Mom’s cheek.

  Mom pats my hand. “It was worth it.”

  When I draw back from Mom, Talia is setting the pie down on the counter, her eyebrows drawn together in a surprised look.

  Before I can ponder what the look is about, Mom speaks. “Josh, why don’t you get Talia a knife?”

  “Sure.” I move swiftly over to the drawer where we keep the knives and pull one out. Then I walk over to Talia. When I near her, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, exposing her milky white neck. I imagine trailing kisses all over it. Clearing my throat, I wish it was as easy to clear away my thoughts. It’s not.

  “Here you go.” I hand it to her, but the way she grips it betrays that she doesn’t know what she’s doing. “Actually, I’ll cut it,” I say, attempting to pluck the knife from her fingers.

  But she holds it steady. “What? You think just because I’m a girl I can’t use a knife?”

  My lips lift at the corners, and I throw up my arms in surrender, palms showing. “Your words, not mine.”

  Mom laughs from over my shoulder. “I think someone needs to be put in their place. What do you say, Talia?”

  Talia’s gaze slides over my shoulder. I glance behind to see the conspiratorial look they shoot between the two of them. “Oh, it’s on.”

  Chuckling, I step around Talia. “Butcher the pie. I don’t care. It’ll taste the same no matter how it looks.”

  Talia’s hand drops to my arm. “It will look and taste good. Trust me.”

  My gaze lowers to her face, lingering on her shimmering lips. Trust me. There’s no one in this world I trust besides my mom. But Talia isn’t my mom. Hell, she’s not even my girlfriend. As real as this night has felt, it isn’t. It’s fake.

  And I need to remember that.

  TALIA

  He’s different with his mom.

  Gentle. Kind. Caring. Helpful.

  Words I’ve never associated with Josh before. The boy in this kitchen is not the Josh I know. In fact, this entire night I feel like I’m spending time with a stranger. Someone I’ve never met before. He looks like Josh and sounds like Josh, but that’s where the similarities end.

  Josh has always been unpredictable. It often scares me about him. The only thing that’s predictable is his ability to act like a royal jerk in every situation. Throughout our pretend relationship, there have been moments where he’s softened. Moments where he’s opened up and been vulnerable, almost likeable. But then that rude side of him rears its ugly head once again, and we’re back to square one. But not tonight. Tonight he seems to have put that side of himself to bed.

  And I find myself drawn to him in a way I’ve never been before.

  Especially while watching him clean the dishes with his mom. I mean, seriously, no one at school would even believe me if I told them about this. Josh has never struck me as the kind of guy who cleans the kitchen for his mom. With the way he treats the girls at school, I guess I’ve always assumed he treated his mom the same.

  Boy was I wrong.

  When Josh leans over and randomly kisses his mom on the cheek, I’m bowled over with how very wrong I’ve been. My parents and I are affectionate, so it’s not like I’ve never seen a family act like this. It’s just that I’ve never seen Josh act like this. And his mom’s response betrays how common this is. She’s not surprised the way I am.

  Gripping the counter with my free hand, I have to fight to keep myself steady. My mouth involuntarily drops open, and my heart beats erratically in my chest. I’ve always been told that the way a guy treats his mom is how he’ll one day treat his wife. If that’s the case, then whoever marries Josh will be one lucky lady.

  Blowing out a breath, I tell myself I’m reading too much into this. One night, one moment can’t change everything I know to be true about Josh.

  Still, I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that tonight has changed things significantly. I’ve had a great time tonight. Maybe the best time I’ve ever had at a boyfriend’s house. And even though I know Josh isn’t my real boyfriend, it has felt real tonight. We’ve laughed and joked, talked in a way we don’t usually do.

  I never thought I wanted any of this from Josh. From the get-go I’ve been one hundred percent on board with the plan. I’ve never lost focus. That’s why it surprises me how much I’m enjoying my time with Josh and his mom tonight.

  I’m still reeling from everything when Josh’s mom asks me to cut the pie. That’s why my hand shakes so much when Josh hands me the knife. However, that doesn’t stop me from bantering with Josh. Teasing comes easily to us. It’s what we’re good at. The difference is that tonight it doesn’t feel mean-spirited like it usually does. In fact, it feels playful, flirty even.

  Until Josh shuts down. I see it the moment it happens. The light that had filled his eyes a moment before is gone, replaced with darkness. I’m not even sure what I said. And when he slips past me and stalks out of the kitchen, I’m left replaying my last words to him.

  “It will look and taste good. Trust me.”

  Perplexed, I bite my lip and stare down at the pie. What about that statement upset him? Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand and slice the knife into the pie. And just like Josh predicted I end up destroying it. Not because I don’t know how to cut a pie. It’s because I’m nervous and confused.

  “Hey.” As if sensing how I’m feeling, Josh’s mom places a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  I nod, setting the knife down on the counter. “Sorry about the pie. I guess Josh was right. I should’ve let him cut it.”

  She smiles, a knowing expression on her face. Her hand gently squeezes my shoulder. “I know he can be…harsh sometimes. But he means well. He’s just going through a really tough time right now.”

  “Because of his dad?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “I’m sure it’s hard on both of you.”

  She forces one last smile and then steps away from me, her hand falling from my shoulder. “We’ll get through it.” Turning away from me, she reaches into a nearby cabinet. “Let me grab some plates, and we’ll dish up the pie. How does that sound?”

  It sounds like she’s trying to avoid this subject. Not that I blame her. If my husband left me for another woman, I wouldn’t want to discuss it either. This evening may have started out promising, but it seems I’m really screwing things up now. “Great,” I finally say, forcing a grin I don’t feel.

  After helping Mrs. Easton dish up the pie, we carry the plates out to the family room where Josh is watching television. My heart pinches at how guarded he is when I hand him his plate. Once again, I have no idea what I did wrong.

  We eat our pie in silence, the only sound the scraping of forks against the ceramic plates. As delicious as the pie is, I find it harder to swallow with every bite. It’s as if my throat is swelling as the moments tick by. I’m grateful when my plate is empty. After one last forceful swallow, I stand, my knees cracking with the movement.

  “Thank you so much. The
pie was amazing. Actually, everything was.”

  Mrs. Easton springs into action, leaping up and snatching the plate out of my hand. “My pleasure,” she says before vanishing into the kitchen.

  Josh is still hunched over his plate, shoveling pie into his mouth while staring forward at the TV. I stare down at him, my patience wearing thin.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Fine,” he answers, pie spewing out of his mouth.

  Disgusting.

  Gone is the nice boy from earlier. A part of me is relieved. The last thing I need is to fall for Josh. Even if tonight proved he can sometimes be nice, that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy. That doesn’t mean he’s worthy of me. I deserve someone like Hayes. Someone who knows how to treat a girl.

  And I can’t afford to lose sight of that.

  After taking the last bite, he drops the fork on his plate, and it clatters loudly. I flinch. His head swivels in my direction. “I’m sure you’re ready to go home. Let me take my plate to the kitchen, and then we’ll head out.”

  Again with the manners. This guy is seriously confusing.

  I follow Josh out of the room so I can say goodbye to his mom and thank her one last time. No matter what happens in the future, I’m glad to have spent some time with Mrs. Easton. She’s a lot different than I thought she was.

  The air is cool when Josh and I step outside, and goosebumps arise on my arms.

  “Should’ve worn a jacket,” Josh says, pointing to the one he’s wearing as if to prove he’s smarter.

  “Well, it wasn’t this cold earlier,” I snap, hugging myself. In the spring it was hard to gauge the weather.

  “Here. Take mine.” I’m shocked when Josh’s jacket lands on my shoulders. Throwing him a confused look, I close my fingers around the edges and pull it tighter around me.