Play Nice (Make the Play #3)

by Amber Garza

  Hayes glances back at his grandpa’s room. “I’m sure my grandpa would love to see you if you want to wait for him to wake up.”

  I hesitate, but then picture my quiet, cold house. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  I should be surprised by Hayes’ generosity considering how I’ve treated him, but I’m not. It’s the main reason I’ve steered clear of him. He’s one of the nice guys. I’ve known that from day one. Even in elementary school he used to stick up for the kids that were bullied. There was this one kid, Mark, who wore hearing aids and talked funny. All the kids picked on him. One day this older kid stole one of his hearing aids and hid it in the playground. Hayes spent our entire lunch recess searching for Mark’s hearing aid, and eventually he found it. When he did, he threatened to beat up the older kid if he ever came near Mark again.

  And that’s only one of many stories I have tucked away in my memory bank of Hayes. We may have never been friends, but I’ve always been aware of him.

  When we go back into the hospital room, Hayes grabs a chair from the corner and drags it near his grandpa’s bed. The legs scrape on the ground, and I’m stunned it doesn’t wake Henry up. As if reading my thoughts, Hayes says, “They gave him something to help him sleep.”

  I nod in understanding.

  “Here you go.” Hayes motions to the chair.

  “Isn’t that for you?” I’m dumbfounded by the gesture.

  “Nope.”

  It’s not a big deal. So he got me a chair? I’m sure guys do this for girls every day. But to me it’s huge, because a guy has never done it for me.

  “Oh.” I bite my lip, stepping forward. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Winking, he goes in search of another chair. The room is dimly lit, the curtains over the small window drawn closed. That awful sterile smell I hate lingers in the air. Yet there’s no place I’d rather be. It’s so odd. I didn’t even know Henry two weeks ago, and now he’s one of the few people I feel comfortable around. As Hayes sets a chair next to mine and plops into it, I realize that I feel the same way about Hayes. It both excites me and terrifies me at the same time.

  “So do you visit your dad here very often?” Hayes asked, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

  “No. I used to when I was younger.” Sensing that he might ask more questions about my dad, I steer the conversation in a new direction. “Henry’s surgery went well?”

  “Yeah.” Hayes nods, his gaze traveling to where his grandpa lies. “No complications. He obviously has a long road of recovery, but he should be fine. Not that I ever had a doubt. He’s a fighter.”

  The way he smiles when he talks about his grandpa warms me from the inside out. “You two are really close, huh?”

  He nods.

  “That’s how I was with my grandpa.” When the words are out, I wonder what it is about this family that makes me run my mouth. When I catch the sympathy welling in Hayes’ eyes, I regret the slip up. “So, fall ball practices start soon,” I say.

  “Next week,” Hayes says.

  “Are you excited?”

  “Yeah. And a little worried. I mean, without Chris and Cal it will definitely be different.”

  “Ah, I’m sure you guys will be fine.” I smile, grateful to be talking about baseball. Something safe. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with me or my past.

  HAYES

  Grandpa comes home today. I wanted to miss school, to stay home and help get him situated. But Mom insisted I go to school. She took the day off and made all the arrangements. A nurse is coming to the house to care for Grandpa during the hours when Mom and I can’t be home. I hate that it’s come to this. Grandpa loves his independence. He’s going to hate all this assistance. But we don’t have a choice at this point.

  I’ve seen Ashley a few more times at the hospital. Sometimes we talk. Other times I watch from afar. Once I eavesdropped at the door, but felt guilty for it afterward. However, a part of me is glad I did. The easy way she spoke with my grandpa was different from how she usually is. Even different from how she’s been with me. And with me she’s been kinder, softer. But with Grandpa there was something else – something pure and innocent. Two words I never would’ve used to describe Ashley in the past.

  When I spot Ashley standing at her locker before first period, I head in her direction. As I get closer, a look of astonishment springs to her face. Not that I blame her. Even though she’s been nicer, I haven’t approached her at school. I’m not stupid. She’s still Ashley, and this could all be an act. The last thing I want is for her to humiliate me like she’s done so many other times.

  “Hey.” I stand in front of her, fingers shoved down into the pocket of my jeans.

  “Hey.” Her gaze darts to her feet. This shy version of Ashley is new.

  “I…um…just wanted to let you know that my grandpa is being released today.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome.” Her face lights up. Then it vanishes, replaced by darkness. “So I guess I won’t go visit him today.”

  My stomach tumbles to the ground. Sometimes I forget that Ashley no longer has a social life. Pretty sure my grandpa is it. “Once he’s settled, I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind if you stopped by.”

  “Okay. Great.” She nods, but I can’t tell if she means it. Chances are she won’t come to my house.

  I spot Brady and a bunch of guys from the team at the other end of the hall. They throw curious glances in my direction. Face flaming, I say goodbye to Ashley. But she doesn’t let me leave. To my utter shock, her hand rests on my arm.

  “Thanks for letting me know about your grandpa. I appreciate it.”

  “Well, well, well.” Josh saunters over to us, wearing a smug grin. “What have we here?” His gaze darts to Ashley’s hand on my arm. She quickly draws it back. “I wondered when you’d finally go after another baseball player.” He sidles up next to her, snaking his arm around her shoulders. She glares, pulling away. “But you don’t have to settle for Hayes here. I’ll take you back at any time.” He puckers up, bringing his lips dangerously close to her face. She wriggles in his grip.

  “Back off.” Reaching out, I pry his arm off of her.

  “I’m surprised at you, Hayes. Didn’t think you’d go after Ashley after everything she’s done.” Josh chuckles, still touching Ashley.

  I shove him backward. “Hands off, Joshy.” He cringes at the nickname. It was Cal’s favorite way to piss him off, and it seems like it still works.

  “Oh, you’re calling the shots now, huh?” He glances at Ashley, one eyebrow cocked. “You belong to him now?”

  This guy is unbelievable. “She doesn’t belong to anyone,” I snap. “She’s a person.”

  “What are you, a feminist or something?” Josh guffaws.

  “Yeah. I’m a feminist,” I say sarcastically, shaking my head. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I’m not the one sleeping with the enemy,” Josh says ominously, his gaze landing on Ashley again.

  I’m about to explain that I’m not sleeping with Ashley, but I don’t bother. He’s not worth wasting my breath. Besides, judging by how pale Ashley’s face has become, I’d say the damage has already been done. If I make a scene of pointing out that I’m not hooking up with her, it might do more harm than good. She’ll feel even more rejected than she already does. After how many times she’s rejected me, I should jump at the chance to get her back, but that’s never been my style. Plus, she looks so sad. I could never feel good about hurting her.

  When Josh leaves, I move closer to Ashley. “You okay?”

  She peers up at me, her lips quivering a little. Prior to this month, I’d never seen her cry. Hell, I’d never seen her show any emotion at all. Well, except anger. Jealousy. Rage. But never raw emotion. Never sadness or fear. But in the last few weeks I’ve seen her cry. I’ve seen her sad. I’ve seen her scared. And it’s done something to me. It’s opened up this part of myself that I’d closed off to her. It’s allowed her entry into
my heart. I know I need to close it back up. To shove her out and never let her in. But I can’t. It’s too late.

  Sucking in a breath, she fights to maintain composure. “Thank you for stepping in. I know you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Hey.” I move even closer. So close that our faces are mere inches apart. When she breathes out, warm air fans over my skin. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  She opens her mouth like she might say something else, but the bell rings, piercing through the air. She flinches, startled. Then her face smooths back out, and the Ashley I’ve known for years is back.

  “We better get to class.” Her voice is hard, formal.

  “Yeah.” I nod, already missing the Ashley she was a few seconds ago. But I know when to cut my losses. With one last half grin, I hurry off down the hallway.

  ***

  “So what’s the deal with you and Ashley?” Brady asks while we walk to lunch.

  “There’s no deal.” I knew the question was coming. In fact, I’d been gearing up for it all day. There was no way to avoid it after the scene I’d made this morning.

  “Oh, there’s a deal.” Brady nods emphatically. “You practically fought Josh this morning to protect her, and then you two were standing so close I thought you might kiss.”

  “It’s not like that,” I say.

  “Then what is it like?”

  It’s a valid question. I’m not sure I have an answer though. “We’re friends, I guess.”

  “Friends?” Brady chuckles. “You’re friends with Ashley McIntosh?”

  I shrug. “She’s still visiting my grandpa, and sometimes we end up talking.”

  “You don’t think it’s weird that she visits with your grandpa?” Jameson asked me the same question, and I suppose deep down it does strike me as odd.

  “I don’t know. There’s definitely more to the story, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Brady tosses me a knowing look. “I do.” He points his index finger at me. “It’s you, bro. She’s trying to weasel her way into your life.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s it.”

  “Trust me, dude. I see the way she looks at you. Chick wants to get with you. Why can’t you admit it?”

  “Cause it’s not true,” I say. We round the corner, and I spot Ashley ambling toward me. My face warms, hoping she didn’t hear any of my conversation with Brady.

  “Hey,” she says when she gets within ear shot.

  “Hey,” I respond.

  She slows, her eyes crashing into mine. And I do feel something. But I don’t know if it’s because there’s truly something between us or it’s simply because of Brady’s words. Regardless, I can barely breathe. But then she blinks and looks away, breaking the spell. When she walks past, she leaves a trail of perfume in her wake.

  “Yeah, she’s totally into you.” Brady whistles.

  I peer over my shoulder as Ashley continues down the hallway. Is he right? Do I want him to be?

  ASHLEY

  I stand at the edge of the fence, my fingers entwined in the metal as I watch the practice from afar. Usually I’d be sitting on the bleachers, front and center, hoping to be noticed. But not today. Being noticed is the last thing I want.

  I don’t even know what I’m doing here.

  For the past several years, I’ve rarely missed a practice or game. But things have changed now. I’m not wanted here. And I should’ve stayed home. But it’s like I was drawn here by magnetic force. As if nothing could’ve stopped me from coming.

  But I know better than to march up to the bleachers and sit down like I have every right to be here. I’m not dating anyone on the team. No one invited me here. I’m an unwelcome guest. And that’s why I hang back.

  Hayes is up to bat. I watch as he swaggers up to the plate, tossing out jokes. Even though I can’t hear his words, I know he’s joking around because of the collective laughs that spread across the field. Plus, it’s Hayes, and that’s what he does. He swings the bat a few times before the ball is pitched to him. Then he hits it with such force I can hear it all the way over here. The ball shoots out into the field, and the outfielders scramble to get it. Not that I’m watching them. My gaze is fixated on Hayes as he rounds the bases.

  It’s crazy that I ever made fun of his physique. Nothing about him is laughable when he plays ball. He’s a force, for sure. I can tell all of the guys think so too, by the fist bumps and words of congratulations they throw at him when he makes it to home.

  I watch until the practice ends and all of the players make their way off the field. Before senior year started, I’d been worried about how the Prairie Creek Panthers would fare without Cal or Christian. But after watching them play tonight, it’s clear that my concern was unwarranted. They’re still the best team around, no doubt. After one last whiff of clean air and freshly cut grass, I release the fence and step away from it. Indentations from the metal coil around the skin on my fingers. The sky is darkening, and I pray it hides me as I make my way off the field.

  “Ashley!” A familiar voice calls out, and I stiffen.

  Maybe I should’ve started praying a little sooner.

  “Were you gonna leave without saying hi?” Hayes stands in front of me, bat bag slung over his shoulder, a sheen of sweat across his forehead just below his crooked hat.

  I fight the urge to reach out and straighten it. When he and Talia were dating, I remember asking her what the deal was with his hat always being askew, and she said it’s a left-hander thing. Whatever that means.

  “Did you want me to say hi?” I ask, dubious.

  “I came all the way out here, didn’t I?”

  At his sincere words, guilt punches me in the gut. “I didn’t mean it,” I blurt out.

  Cocking his head, he furrows his brows. “Didn’t mean what?”

  “What I said to Talia about you,” I say. “I didn’t mean it.” When he doesn’t respond, I add, “You’re definitely not fat.”

  “Well, I’m not thin.” He smiles. “But thanks.”

  I release the breath I’d been holding, grateful that he’s being cool about it at least.

  “Is that why you came here? To tell me that?” He asks, the smile still on his face.

  “No. I came to watch baseball,” I say honestly, and then wonder why. He’s going to think I’m weird. What teenage girl spends her evenings watching baseball practice with no ulterior motive?

  His face grows serious. “Why do you like baseball so much?”

  I shrug, my lips tugging at the corners. “The tight pants, of course.”

  Hayes doesn’t smile. “I’m not asking for your typical ‘Ashley’ answer. I want the real reason.”

  Biting my lip, my stomach tightens. “That is the real answer,” I lie.

  He shakes his head. “You’re not the shallow person everyone thinks you are. You can’t fool me. I see how you are with my grandpa. You make him smile more than anyone else.”

  My cheeks flame, and I shake my head in protest. But I want to believe him.

  “Seriously,” he insists. “You should see him after you visit. He’s over the moon.”

  His words crack open my walls a little bit. “I like spending time with him. He’s pretty cool.” Behind Hayes the field is almost cleared out. The lights are still on, though, illuminating the shimmering sand and bright green grass. A flood of memories wash over me. “My grandpa used to play ball,” I say before I can stop myself. “I never saw him play, obviously, but he used to take me to games all of the time.” My gaze darts to my feet, sadness swallowing me whole. “When he died, I started going to games by myself. Made me feel closer to him.”

  “So you do come to the baseball field for a guy. Just not a guy on the team.” Hayes winks, and I love that he lightens up the mood.

  “Pretty much,” I agree, offering up a half smile. It’s odd talking about my grandpa to Hayes. Truth is, it’s odd being this real with someone, and it makes me uncomfortable. “Well, at least at first. H
ooking up with the guys on the team is what keeps me comin’ back.” I don’t know why I say it. It’s like how little kids carry around their favorite blanket because it comforts them, makes them feel safe.

  Hayes steps forward, shaking his head. “Stop it.” His eyes search mine. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  I squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze. My breath comes out more labored, my chest rising and falling with each breath. The longer he stares, the more aware I am of the way he makes me feel. Like I want to crawl out of my skin. Like I want to shed this image I’ve spent so many years building. Panic seizes me.

  “I-I-better get going.” Stepping backward, I start to turn around. My shoes sink into the damp grass.

  “No. Please stay.” His fingers circle my wrist.

  I freeze. “What?” I breathe out.

  “Stay, Ashley.” His tone is so gentle it threatens to break me apart.

  Swallowing hard, I peer over my shoulder at the pleading look on his face. “Why?”

  “I want to get to know you,” he says simply.

  I shake his arm off. “You do know me, Hayes. You’ve known me for years.”

  “I know the person you let the world see. But that person is entirely different than the one you’ve let my grandpa see. And I suspect that my grandpa is one of the few people who know the real you.” His gaze catches mine. “Am I right?”

  Averting my gaze, I struggle to breathe evenly. “Henry doesn’t expect anything from me.”

  “I don’t either, Ash.”

  My head bounces up at his use of my nickname. It’s familiar and intimate, and I realize that I crave that from him. Maybe more than I’ve ever craved it from anyone. And, frankly, it scares the shit out of me.

  Reaching forward, his knuckles graze my cheek. I should pull away. I need to. But I don’t want to. So I stay rooted in place, like a flower that’s recently been planted. Even when his hand curves around my face and he steps in closer, I still don’t move. In fact, I have to remind myself to breathe. To allow air in and out of my lungs. As his lips near mine, I am heady with desire. But as warm breath fans over my mouth, reality slams into me. Throwing out my arms, I shove him back.