Play Safe (Make the Play #1) (18 page)

“What was that about?” I ask when we head outside. First Cal was completely against Christian and me being together, and now he’s asking me to drive him home. He’s seriously baffling.

Christian shrugs. “Looks like he’s coming around.”

My stomach flips at his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers softly. I expect Christian to be as excited as I feel, but he appears guarded.

“What’s wrong then? Don’t you still want to be together?”

He hesitates, and it causes a tornado to kick up inside my stomach.

“Christian?” I prod.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Of course I do. I just have a lot on my mind tonight.”

Swallowing hard, I nod. I can’t even imagine how he’s feeling after everything that’s happened. Therefore, I need to put aside my own feelings and be understanding. Christian has never been good at coping with family drama. When he feels threatened or hurt, his first instinct is to pull away, to hide behind the invisible walls he builds around himself.

I learned this the hard way when we were kids. It was the first time his mom’s shop was vandalized, and my family showed up to help clean up the damage. Christian was angry, that was obvious. He was kicking the sidewalk, wearing a mad expression. I’d seen Cal mad before, but I could always make him smile, sometimes even laugh. And I mistakenly thought I could do the same with Christian. But I had underestimated the level of his anger.

I approached him wearing a smile, throwing out jokes in an effort to break through his tough exterior. But instead of softening the way Cal usually did, he got more upset. He shoved me away, cursing under his breath. When my lips started to quiver, he called me a cry baby and told me to get lost. Told me I didn’t understand what he was going through.

And I guess I didn’t.

I’d never been through anything like that before. Honestly, I still haven’t. Christian’s life has always been harder than mine. He’s endured more heartache than I could possibly imagine.

That’s why I know I have to tread carefully. I have to give him room to breathe, room to be angry and upset. And I need to make sure I don’t give him any reason to pull away from me. So I close my mouth, vowing not to talk unless he invites me to. I know it will be tough, but for Christian I’ll do just about anything.

When we get into my car, Christian turns to me. “I’m not ready to go home just yet. Do you think we can go somewhere else first?”

Hope sparks at his words, and I nod eagerly. “Sure. Just tell me where.”

****

I’m not surprised when we end up at the baseball field. It’s the place he’s always found solace, and I know he needs that tonight.

“The first time I played baseball was with Cal.” We’re sitting in the middle of the field, and Christian picks at a blade of grass. “It was right after we moved to Prairie Creek. By then he already had a great arm, so we started playing catch. He’s the one who encouraged me to be a catcher. And since we were so close, it made sense.”

“I remember,” I say. “I was always so jealous that you two had that. We all know how disastrous it was when I tried to play.”

“Ah, you weren’t that bad,” he says. “You just got scared.”

“That may be the understatement of the year.” I think about how I’d squeal and duck every time the ball came at me.

“You did get beaned pretty badly though.”

“And you were so sweet, making sure I had an ice pack to put on it.” In most of my childhood memories, Christian’s there. And in many of them, he’s the one comforting me, making things better. “I wish I had an ice pack for you now.”

“I think we’ve graduated from ice packs and bandaids,” Christian says, a flicker of a sad smile on his face. “Our problems are a little more complicated now.”

“Let’s uncomplicate it.” I scoot forward until our knees brush.

“I don’t think that’s a real word.”

“I’m into math, not reading, remember?”

Christian chuckles. “How could I forget?”

“Besides, I like it. Uncomplicate. I’m so going to start using it in conversation.”

“I’m sure it will make your mother proud.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You had to mention her, didn’t you?”

“Sorry.” He nudges me. “Before I rudely interrupted you were going to explain how we could uncomplicate things.”

My palms moisten and my heart picks up speed as I move even closer to Christian. Wind whips into my hair, and it flies around my face. I bat it away and tilt my face toward Christian’s.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” When Christian swallows, his neck swells.

I touch his face. “I told you. I’m uncomplicating things.”

“Oh, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Curling my hand around his neck, I angle my head until my top lip sweeps his. Warm breath fans over my skin, and I shiver. Pulling back, I take a deep breath. I have to do this right. It needs to be like last time. Like our perfect kiss from earlier tonight. Christian cares about me. I know he does. I feel it in his kiss, in his touch. I see it in his eyes when he looks at me.

But I know Christian. When things start progressing in any relationship, he gets scared and puts on the brakes. I know it has to do with his dad. About the way he’s been rejected and abandoned.

That’s why I need to remind him of what we have. In my kiss I have to erase his pain, eradicate the events of the night. I have to make him think of nothing else but me.

Pressing down more firmly, my mouth covers his. Darting my tongue out, I thrust it into his mouth. My fingernails rake over his neck as our tongues meld together. As I kiss him more fervently, an ache spreads through my chest. It grows like an infectious disease. The longer his lips are on mine, the more I need to keep them there. The more I need to ensure this will happen again.

I know I love Christian. I think I’ve loved him since I was a little kid, following him around like I was his shadow. And even if we can never be together, he’ll always have a piece of my heart. I can feel it every time we touch, every time we kiss. My heart reacts. It comes alive. And a part of me wonders if it will always be like this with him.

When we separate, Christian drops his forehead to mine. “How are things less complicated now?”

I draw back, searching his eyes. “The way I see it is that nothing feels complicated when we’re together. It feels right, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do, but it’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” I ask.

His eyes cloud over, and I worry that he won’t agree. That my kiss wasn’t enough.

“I don’t know if I can ignore what I feel for you. Hell, I’ve done a pretty crappy job of it so far,” Christian says, his hand touching my thigh. A shudder runs through my body.

I want to keep him on this line of thinking. Also, I’m curious, so I ask, “When did you first start to feel this way?”

He grins. “Remember last summer when I got back from vacation with my mom, and you, Cal and I went to the lake? You wore that red bikini?”

My cheeks warm. “You liked that, huh?”

“’Like’ would not be the right word.”

“I bought that the day before you came back. I couldn’t wait to wear it in front of you,” I confess.

Christian’s expression grows serious. “You wore that for me?”

I nod. “Most of what I’ve done since the day I met you was for you.”

“That long, huh?” His face holds an awed expression.

“You have no idea.”

Christian lifts his hand, running the pads of his fingers across my jawline and up to my lips. “I don’t want to keep my distance anymore.”

“Then don’t.”

Regret passes over his features. “I’ve got a lot of baggage, Emmy.”

“Who doesn’t?” I grab his hand.

“Not like mine.”

“I’m not just any girl, Christian. I know you. I know everything, and I’m not scared. I’m not running. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.” I hold his gaze.

The clouds in his eyes clear a little. Leaning forward, he kisses me hard, stealing my breath.

It’s weird being with Emmy at school; walking the halls with her hand tucked in mine, kissing her in the lunch room, showing her off to my friends. Not weird in a bad way though. Weird in a surreal, awesome way. As I open my locker and she leans against the one next to mine, I’m hit with the memory of the day I held her against a row of lockers to keep her from falling. I remember wanting so badly for her to be mine that day.

And now she is.

Taking advantage of the moment, I curve my hand around her waist and yank her to me. Giggling, she falls against my chest. Dipping my head, I steal a kiss on her lips. It’s a quick kiss. More of a tease, really, and it leaves me wanting more. But I know I have to back off. I can’t maul Emmy in the middle of the school hallway no matter how badly I want to.

After throwing my book in my backpack, I zip it up and fling it over my shoulder. Smiling, I reach out and thread my fingers through Emmy’s. Her skin is soft and smooth against mine. We take a few steps down the hallway when Josh comes around the corner, Ashley’s hand tucked in his. Emmy stiffens at my side. Instinctively, I push her back a little and step in front of her as if using my body as a shield.

“What’s up, Chris.” Josh nods his head in greeting as if we’re friends.

What a punk.
I don’t waste my breath with a response.

“Hey, Em.” Grinning, Josh peers behind my back.

I move over, so he can’t see her. “Step back.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glower down my nose at him.

“Scared I’m gonna steal your girl, huh?” He chuckles. But when he glances over at Ashley, she frowns at him, and he sobers up.

“Not even a little bit,” I say honestly. “But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from her.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll add some more bruises to that face of yours.”

“Go ahead.” He releases Ashley’s hand and then steps forward, puffing out his chest.

I want to. Man, I want to punch him so badly my hand twitches. But he’s only challenging me because he knows I won’t hit him again. I can’t. Coach let it go last time, but he made it clear that he won’t do it again. If I get in another fight, I’m out. And I can’t risk that. Not with the start of the season looming. Still, I can’t let him think he has a green light to bother Emmy or my family whenever he wants.

“Mess with Emmy, or go anywhere near my mom or her shop, and I will. To hell with the team or Coach Hopkins.” I narrow my eyes. “And next time you won’t get off so easy.” My eyes land on the bruises I left last practice. “Trust me. They’ll be hauling your ass out on a stretcher when I finish with you.”

He keeps that stupid smug smile, but his face drains of color, and I know he got the message. Heard it loud and clear. I can tell Ashley does too by the way her eyes widen. When her gaze rests on me, my face hardens. I won’t hurt her, but I’m okay with her being scared of me. I don’t want her anywhere near Emmy either. They’re both poison in my opinion. Ashley cowers, latching on to Josh.

“And just so you know, I’m not the only person you should be scared of,” I add, looking pointedly at Josh. “You damage my mom’s shop again, and I’ll make sure my mom presses charges. Your dad may have talked her out of it this time, but no way will you get so lucky again.” I smile, glancing around at the crowd that’s gathered in the hallway. “But I heard you did a knock-out job of cleaning up your mess, so kudos for that. Maybe you can add window washer to your list of career goals. It’s gotta be a step up from your other skills.” Snickers circle us.

Cursing, he shakes off Ashley’s arm and storms down the hallway. Whimpering, she scurries after him, her high-heeled boots clacking on the linoleum. I knew that would piss him off. Mom told me how he spent all night cleaning the derogatory word off the window of the shop. Even though I don’t believe it was enough of a punishment, I’m still satisfied to know that he clearly hated it so much. Once they’re gone, I turn to Emmy, snatching up both her hands.

“You won’t fight him again, will you?” Her eyebrows raise.

“Not if he listens to me,” I say, wondering where this sudden desire to defend him is coming from. “Why? You don’t still care about him, do you?”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “Not at all. Trust me. But I do care about you. And I don’t want you to jeopardize your place on the team for him. He’s not worth it.”

****

My stomach bottoms out when she opens the front door. I came straight from practice. I didn’t bother going home to shower even though I knew I should have. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want Emmy. And I’ve never felt like this before. Never missed a girl after only a few hours. Never thought about a girl nonstop, even while playing ball.

“Hey.” Lowering her gaze, she flutters her long lashes, pink rising on her cheeks. The shyness is new. It started after our first kiss.

Truth is, I kind of like it.

I don’t answer her. In fact, I don’t say a word. Stepping forward, I frame her face with my hands and crash my lips into hers. A surprised gasp sounds at the back of her throat. But then her hands are on my waist, her mouth responding eagerly. I grip her face tighter, my tongue parting the seam of her lips. I practically growl as her tongue slides over mine. She tastes like candy, and her fruity scent spins around me. Her mouth is hot, her lips moist and soft. I feel the warmth of her fingers through my shirt as her hands travel up my spine. Her touch is gentle and tender, graceful. Unlike mine which is manic and desperate. I try to temper it but I can’t seem to slow down. I’ve been fantasizing about this moment all day.

For the first time in weeks, I was on. Not one pitch got by me. And my arm felt better than it had in ages. It was all this pent up desire. All of this need flowing through me. But Emmy isn’t a ball. She’s not part of the game. She’s a girl. She’s beautiful and smart.

And mine.

Forcing my heart to slow a little, I soften my hold on her. I draw my mouth back from hers. But only temporarily. Only long enough to catch my breath. I don’t plan to stop kissing her any time soon.

“What was that for?” She speaks against my mouth, her breath tickling my lips.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” This time she’s the one who takes initiative. When her mouth clamps over mine, I clutch her so tightly our heartbeats mingle. As our kiss deepens, I hear loud throat clearing, and I flinch. Tearing my lips from Emmy’s, I spot Tim standing over her shoulder, watching us with a serious expression.

I release Emmy and swallow hard.

“Um…hi Mr. Fisher.”

He flashes me an amused smile. “Since when do you call me Mr. Fisher?”

“Uh…I don’t know. I just thought maybe now I should.” I have no idea why I’m acting like a bumbling idiot. This is Tim we’re talking about. He’s been like a dad to me for years. Everything feels different now though.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Tim says. “Your relationship with Emmy may have changed, but your place in this family hasn’t.”

My heart swells. “I appreciate that, sir…uh…”
Damn it, what is wrong with me?
Tim’s eyebrows jump up. I’ve never called him sir before. “I mean, Tim.”

Tim shakes his head, letting out a small chuckle. Then he points behind me. “You’re letting in the cold air, Chris.”

Emmy giggles, and I blow out a breath.

“Sorry.” I guess we’d gotten so caught up in each other we never left the doorway. Reaching out, I slam the door closed. When I turn around, Tim is gone. Emmy drops her head to my chest and laughs.

“Well, that was awkward,” she says.

“Little bit.” I chuckle lightly. “But at least he’s taking this well.”

“Surprisingly,” she says. “What about Olivia? Does she know about us?”

I nod. “Told her last night. She was cool with it, but I knew she would be.”

When she peers up at me, a strand of hair falls in her eyes. I swipe it away with my finger. Then I lean down and gently sweep my lips over hers. My earlier desperation has waned. I’m like an addict who got his fix, and now I can take things slower. This time I go easy on her. I kiss her softly. Once. Twice. Three times. I can practically see her counting, and it makes my heart skip a beat. Then I gently slide my tongue over her lips. When she opens her mouth, a gust of wind hits my back.

“Ah, hell no,” Cal’s voice startles me.

I pull away from Emmy. Her eyes widen.

“I may have said you two could date, but I don’t wanna come home to see that shit.” He covers his eyes with his hand and hurries past us, racing down the hallway. When he reaches his room, his door slams shut.

Emmy gives me a sheepish look. “Are you regretting this yet?’

“Never,” I assure her.