Play Safe (Make the Play #1) (12 page)

She waves away my words. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you’re married. You’re only sixteen. Now’s the time to have fun.”

“It’s not that simple, Ash.” I pick at my comforter with my fingernails. “Christian’s like family. It was a mistake. It happened, but now it’s over.”

My head snaps up at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Christian and Cal’s loud chattering reaches my ears. I stiffen as footsteps head down the hallway. There’s knocking on my bedroom door, and I hurry to answer it. Christian stands in my doorway, his hair damp, his face red from the cold.

“Here you are.” He holds up a white paper bag. I inhale the scent of grease and hamburgers. “No onion or mayo. Just the way you like it.” A smile spreads across his face.

I take the bag in between my fingers. It crinkles upon contact.

“We got a hamburger for Miss Anorexic over there too.” Christian looks past my shoulder.

Ashley curls her nose in disgust. “No, thank you.”

Christian shrugs. “More for us then.”

“Thanks.” I grin, my stomach growling. After shutting my bedroom door, I turn around.

Trust me, it’s not over,” Ashley says, a knowing smile on her face.

“What?”

“There is some major tension between the two of you.”

I shush her. “Keep your voice down, Ash.”

“Fine, but I’m telling you that boy still wants you.”

I mull over her words, wondering if she’s right. The scary part is that I desperately want it to be true.

The rain hasn’t let up all weekend. By Sunday afternoon, I’m sick of it. On the news they keep saying how great it is since we need the rain. And it’s true that we’ve been in a drought. Logically, I know I should be happy. Only I can’t be happy because I can’t do the one thing that makes me happy – play ball. I’ve been stuck inside for days, and I’m going stir crazy.

Lying on my couch, television blaring in the background, I text Cal to see if he wants to go see a movie or something. But he texts back to say that he’s working on a paper for English. All of my homework is finished. Man, how lame is it that I want to do homework?

However, I’d do almost anything to get my mind off of Emmy. The more I stay inside, the more she consumes my thoughts. Especially after spending the night at Cal’s on Friday night. It was torture to sleep on the couch knowing that Emmy was merely down the hallway. All I had to do was walk a few feet and I could be next to her. It took all the self-control I possess not to test it; not to try to touch her or kiss her again. It drove me mad.

Today I’ve been trying to watch movies to get my mind off of her, but that hasn’t worked at all. I’m pretty sure baseball is the only thing that could preoccupy me, but the rain has taken that option away. Therefore, I need to come up with a new plan. Sitting around thinking about her isn’t helping me at all.

I can’t have her.

It’s as simple as that.

Now if only I could get that through my thick skull and quit hoping for something more.

Standing, I decide to head down to the shop and check on Mom. She didn’t have any shipments this weekend, so there probably won’t be anything for me to do. But being there sure beats sitting around here feeling sorry for myself. After putting on my shoes and jacket, I grab my car keys and head out the front door. Bitter cold stings my face as wind whips rain into my eyes. I pull my hood over my head, cinch it tight and run to my car. By the time I reach it, I’m soaked. My clothes cling to my body, and I shiver. Once inside, rain pelts the roof of my car. It’s louder than the engine. I turn the wipers on full blast so I can see. Still, liquid splatters the windshield as I pull away from the curb.

I drive slowly into Old Towne, and park directly in front of the shop. It’s not a good sign that parking is available. My gaze sweeps the street when I step out of the car. It’s pretty empty. Then again, it’s not exactly shopping weather. Most people are probably holed up in their homes or sitting in the movie theatre. Any activity that keeps them dry. It’s not like you could even call this a real storm, but it’s about as bad as gets around here. We don’t get extreme weather. The only storms I’ve ever seen are in the movies. Rain and wind are about the worst we experience.

Slamming my car door closed I make a run for it, shielding my face with my arm. The bell on the door dings when I step inside the shop. I yank off my hood and shake my head. Water drops from my body onto the musty carpet. I wipe my feet and step forward. That’s when I hear voices further back in the shop. I’m surprised. Maybe Mom does have a customer after all.

I walk forward, curious about the person who braved the elements to go to an antique shop. My feet shuffle on the ground with every step, my elbows brushing lamp shades and furniture. Mom has so much stuff crammed in here that the aisles are pretty narrow. I imagine if a person was claustrophobic they wouldn’t be able to shop here. Often I’ve tried to push things back, to allow more room, but then we get more stuff and the aisles end up like this again. Dust tickles my nose, and I have the urge to sneeze. But then it passes.

I round a corner and that’s when I spot him. I freeze, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. He and my mom stop talking, both of them turning in my direction.

“Chris, I didn’t know you were coming by,” Mom says, seemingly unfazed.

If only I could feel the same way, but I don’t. My pulse races, my head spinning. I breathe in deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth in an effort to calm the hell down. Mom will not be happy if I lose it. “Thought I’d come by to see if you needed any help, but clearly you don’t.” I look pointedly at Mr. Easton.
Seriously, what the hell is he doing here?

“Dan came by to pick up a gift for his mom. She’s always loved antiques,” Mom answers my silent question as if she read my mind.

But it’s his name that sticks out to me. The way she speaks it with such ease. I wasn’t aware they spoke at all. Has she forgotten everything he’s done to her?

“Hi, Christian.” He steps forward, offering his hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

Narrowing my eyes, I stare down at his hand. Mom clears her throat, a demand. Obediently, I shake Mr. Easton’s hand. It’s cold and clammy to the touch. I feel disgusted.

“Enjoyed the scrimmage the other day,” he says.

I scowl. “Wasn’t exactly my best game.” Is that what he wants from me? To grovel? To admit my shortcomings?

“It wasn’t my son’s best game either,” he says. “But you guys will get it together by the time the season starts.”

I’m stunned by his words. I wonder what Josh would think about his dad throwing him under the bus like that? As much as I can’t stand the kid, I feel kind of bad for him. No one wants to be criticized by their old man. Then again, I’d take criticism from mine. Hell, I’d take anything from mine.

“I’ll go ahead and wrap this up for you.” Mom carries an antique bowl toward the register.

Not wanting to get stuck talking to Mr. Easton any longer, I follow her. While she rings up his purchase, I stand off to the side watching. Their conversation is stilted, awkward, exactly like I’d imagine it should be. However, it’s not at all how it sounded when I first arrived, and suspicions arise.

“See you two later,” Mr. Easton says as he makes his way to the door, bag in hand.

“Bye, Dan,” Mom calls after him.

I force a nod, but keep my lips tightly closed. Once he’s gone I turn a challenging gaze to Mom. “What was that all about?”

“What?” She shrugs. “I made a sale. And just in time too. This day was turning out to be a bust. I seriously couldn’t spend one more second staring outside at the depressing rain.”

She’s saying too much. That’s what people do when they’re nervous or lying. They keep talking. They can’t shut up.

“I thought you hated each other,” I state.

Sighing, she runs her fingers through her hair. Today she’s wearing it down, and it’s loose around her shoulders. Rarely does she wear it that way, but when she does I think it makes her look younger. “I’ve never hated him.”

“But he hated you.”

“Probably.” She nods. “And he had every right to. But that was a long time ago. I’d like to think we’ve both matured since then.”

“So you’re friends now?”
Unbelievable.

Mom bristles. “Watch the tone, Chris.”

“This is crazy. You’re in here chatting it up with him, and you’re telling me to watch my tone.” Anger claws at me.

Mom steps out from behind the counter, her expression hard. “Need I remind you that I’m your mom? I know it’s always been the two of us, and sometimes you forget your role, but you’re my son. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Taking a step back, I recoil from her words. My mom has always demanded respect, but it’s rare that she talks to me like this. “So that’s it, then? You’re gonna just keep hanging out with the guy?”

“C’mon, Chris. Don’t make this into a big deal. He came to buy his mom a gift. Sometimes he does that.” She smiles at me. “Okay?”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, feeling like an ass. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I appreciate that,” Mom says. “But you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

****

My attraction to Emmy terrified me from the beginning. From the first day when I saw her in that damn red bikini. I was terrified of Cal finding out. Terrified I wouldn’t be able to hide my feelings. But mostly, terrified of having to watch her date someone else.

Emmy never dated. Unless you counted Miles in middle school, but I didn’t. I knew she never liked that guy. Emmy kept to herself, finding solace in school work and numbers. So I had hoped there was nothing to worry about. But then she started tagging along to the baseball parties with Ashley. That was when fear took root for me. Emmy dating anyone would be awful. Emmy dating a guy on my team would be hell.

Luckily none of the guys went after her. I had Cal to thank for that. None of the guys wanted to chance pissing off our star pitcher by hitting on his little sister. There was one party where Hayes talked to her for awhile, but Cal assured me that Hayes hadn’t come on to her. I was sure he wanted to, but I knew he’d never compromise his standing with Cal. As days passed, my chest expanded a little, my worry dissipating. I thought I was home free. I figured by the time Emmy dated someone I’d be away at college and wouldn’t have to witness it.

But then the unthinkable happened.

It was a random weekday. It started out like all the others. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and went to school. Had I known what I was about to encounter, I might have stayed home. Stayed tucked into my warm covers, perhaps for all of eternity. But I didn’t. I marched right into the school hallway, a book tucked under my arm, my backpack strapped on my back. And that’s when I saw them – Emmy and Josh – lip-locked at his locker.

I almost dropped my book. I almost threw my backpack. I almost hit the guy in his face.

However, I knew I couldn’t do any of those things. Mainly because it would be irrational. I had no claim to Emmy. She was free to date whomever she wanted. Even though I wanted her to be with me, I knew that would be impossible.

But none of these rational thoughts made it any easier to see her with him.

And to this day, it hasn’t gotten any better. I still cringe when I pass them in the halls. My stomach still knots when I catch them kissing or holding hands. I still fantasize about punching him in the face about a million times a day.

And it’s only gotten worse since the night we kissed. Not just because of the way he treated her, but because that kiss ignited my feelings. It made the small spark of attraction I felt for her grow into a full-blown flame. And pretty soon I fear it will singe everything in sight.

Ever since Emmy and Josh have gotten back together, I’ve been watching him closely. No way am I going to let him get away with treating her the way he did at the bonfire party. And so far he’s been pretty cool. He wants everyone to believe he’s turned over a new leaf or something, but I know better.

The guy’s a dick. He always has been, and always will be. No matter what others believe, I’m not falling for his act. Not for a minute. It’s also why I’m not surprised when I catch him flirting with another girl in the hall before third period.

Regardless, I’m not letting him get away with it.

He’s leaning against the locker, all smiles and raised eyebrows, when I approach. His grin falters a bit when he spots me.

“What’s up, Joshy,” I say in my best condescending tone.

The smile on his face slips further. “Nothin’ much,” he speaks with an irritated edge to his tone.

“Who’s this?” I indicate the petite blond he’s talking to.

“None of your business,” he sneers.

“Really?” I raise my brows. “Well, then you won’t mind if I tell Emmy about her.”

His tone hardens. “Go ahead. She’s no one. Just a friend.”

The girl’s face falls, and I feel kind of bad for her. But only kind of. Truth is, I’ve done her a favor. Shaking her head, she stalks off.

“What’s your problem, man?” Josh narrows his eyes at me.

“You’re my problem.”

Josh laughs. “Damn, you’re like a walking cliché, you know that? Like a character on one of those teen sitcoms, but not nearly as witty.”

“If we are on one of those shows, then I guess that makes you the expendable guy. The one who’s not needed. The one no one likes.”

“Oh, I think you’ve got that backwards.” he says. “By the way, how is your dad, Chris?”

“Watch it.” I grit my teeth, tired of his smart-ass comments. Tired of his crap. Tired of him. Reaching out, I grab the collar of his shirt and slam him up against the locker.

“Whoa.” He throws up his arms, glancing around at the crowded halls. “You’re not gonna throw down with me right here, are you? What would happen to our star pitcher if his favorite catcher got benched?”

I hate that he’s right. Grunting, I release my grip on him. “We certainly wouldn’t miss your sorry ass if you were out.”

He squints as if scrutinizing me, and steps closer. “What’s your real issue with me, Chris?”

“I want you out of Emmy’s life.”
There. I said it.

“Too bad it’s not your call, man.” A small smile spreads across his face. “It’s
Emmy’s. And let me tell you, right now she’s calling all day long.”

It’s sick what he’s insinuating, and I want to wipe that smug look off his face. But it’s also the truth. That stings more than I’m willing to admit. “Not for long. Pretty soon she’ll see you for who you are.”