Rounding Third (6 page)

“Lynch, go to the outfield,” Coach says after my throw to first base drops ten feet in front of Oliver.

I jog out to the grass and mildly redeem myself when I catch a few fly balls. My mind is a clusterfuck, and there’s only one way I can clear it—beat the shit out of my muscles.

After practice is over and the guys head over to the tutoring session at the library, I stay back in the weight room.

My gray T-shirt is dark with sweat, and my muscles are on fire, but I’m not ready to stop punishing myself, I’m doing bicep curls when the radio turns off.

I drop the dumbbell, ready for Coach to lecture me on wearing myself out, but it’s not the beer-bellied man with a scowl on his face. It’s a beautiful girl with a scowl.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Ella saunters through the weight room and sits down on the bench across from me.

“Why are you here?” I pick up the dumbbell and curl my arm, more sweat dripping off my forehead and onto the foam mat at my feet.

“When you weren’t at tutoring, Brax told me you skipped. He figured I’d find you here.”

My eyes divert to her crossed legs covered in tight yoga pants. If I could do one thing right now, it’d be to uncross them and bury my face between them right before I took her on the bench. She’d be a better mind-number than weight lifting.

“Old habits die hard,” I say.

Back in high school, every time the baseball team lost or a fight broke out, I’d hole myself up in the weight room. My method of therapy is how my biceps grew three inches in the last two years.

“Crosby, you need to talk to someone. Whether it’s Brax, Spencer, or me. Just someone.” She brings her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

I wipe my sweaty face with a towel. “I could move forward if people would just let me.” Already antsy from sitting, I stand and grab a heavier dumbbell.

“That’s not true.”

From the mirror, I see her approaching me, and I should step away because she’ll never let this issue die. Her hand rests on my shoulder, and the weight drops from my grasp, pounding on the floor.

“We both know that,” she says.

Tears prick my eyes, but I sure as shit won’t cry and definitely not in front of her. Might as well put me on that pussy trophy, like her boyfriend.

“People will think what Beltline does—that I was drunk or high or texting. They’ll think I’m a—”

Her hands grip my biceps, and her forehead falls against my back. “Murderer?” Her shallow voice shreds my heart, like the claws of a lion. After two years, she still knows me better than anyone, even Spencer.

“Well…”

“You were a hero, Crosby. You saved me.” Her hands move around my body, tightening around my stomach. Her body is like a warm blanket pressed against me. “You’ll always be my hero.”

Unable
not
to touch her, my hands cover hers, and for a moment, I let the fight loose within me. She needs to know the truth.

“On the spectrum, I’m more toward the murderer side than the hero side, believe me.”

I feel her head shaking back and forth on my back.

“Don’t say that. We’ll do the article together. The girl called me this afternoon for an interview,” she divulges.

She tries to let go of me, but I release her only long enough to twist around and face her. As I lock my hands behind her back, our eyes soak in each other.

All the time lost between us was for what? I’m still the mess of a guy as the one on the hill that night.

“I should have stayed far away from here,” I say.

Her hand skims along my skin, goose bumps waking in her path. “No. You’re exactly where you should be.”

Her palm cups my cheek, and for a brief moment, I almost crack.

A lone tear spills down her cheek, and I wipe it with the pad of my thumb.

“I’m causing you pain again. That’s why I stayed away.”

“You’re living, Crosby. We made a mistake.” Her voice breaks.

I step out of the warmth she’s offering. “Don’t say that.” I didn’t go through two years of hell only to regret our decision.

“Don’t you see? We’re right where we were that night. Our pain still rules how we live our lives.”

“Except you have a boyfriend,” I sneer, ripping open my chest to show her the pain I bear from the fact that she’s been able to move on when I can’t.

“Don’t do that. I’ll be there with you, and so will Brax, if you let him. We’ll do the newspaper article together, and then maybe you’ll be able to move on.”

I pick up the weight and start doing bicep curls again, sweat immediately pouring off my face. Whether it’s the exertion or the panic from possibly sharing my story, I’m not sure.

Her hand rests on my forearm, and I slowly drop the dumbbell to the ground.

I sit on the bench, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. This is the deciding moment. I have my position back, and the girl is within my grasp, but it’s time for me to step up to the plate and swing, no matter if I hit or miss. I’m the one in control.

“I have to talk to Spencer.”

“Yeah, and I need to talk to Ariel. Want to go over to their dorm now?”

“Now?” I question, my eyebrows rising in the air.

“There’s no better time.” Her lips tick up because she never lets things be.

“Okay. I need to shower.”

I can guarantee her breathing halts for a moment and I assume she’s thinking of me naked under a stream of water.

“Yeah, sure. Of course,” she stutters.

I suck in my lips to push back my smile. “You could join me, if you’d like?”

She squares her shoulders, not amused by my humor. “Crosby,” she says my name with weakness.

“Wash me up, and help me with those hard to reach areas?”

“Crosby.”

I place my hands up in the air. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

* * *

T
wenty minutes later
, I’m showered, and Ella’s mindlessly singing along with the radio in the passenger seat of my truck. We park outside Musselman Hall and the scent of her perfume floats over to me from the light breeze on this late summer night.

Ella calls Ariel, but she doesn’t answer. Luckily, another student is coming out of the dorm when we reach the doors, so I rush to grab ahold of one, and she squeezes through the opening.

“I’m going to head to Spencer’s room.”

“Meet you back here.” She smiles.

We each go to the gender-assigned wings.

Doors are open with music spilling out of the small rooms as I make my way to the fourth room on the right. I knock, and no one comes to the door, but I hear music playing—sultry, romantic music.

When I knock again, a kid from the room next door peeks his head out. “You looking for Spencer?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s indisposed at the moment.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I draw back because I swear that my little brother has never made it to second base.

Then, Ella opens up the wing door and walks toward me.

“She’s not home. Her roommate said she’s with her boyfriend. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend. School only started three days ago.” She’s as perplexed as I am.

“Well, at least she isn’t screwing her boyfriend. According to this guy, Spencer’s ‘indisposed’ in there with some girl.” I thumb toward the kid currently admiring Ella.

He appears in front of her before I glance back, holding his hand out. “Hi, I’m Caden.”

Ella shakes his hand while her eyes move from me to him and back to me. I bite back a smile.

“Ella.”

“Well, Ella, are you free on Friday night?”

Ella laughs, and I’ll never grow tired of that sound.

“Um, I have a boyfriend.”

He glances to me, and I hold my hands up.

“This guy? What does he have that I don’t?” he asks.

I shake my head, pushing back my laughter. I could make a list, but I don’t want to shatter this kid’s ego.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” I comment.

Ella’s eyes switch from amused to sad.

I feel the same way, baby. You’re mine.

Spencer’s music turns off, and giggling commences from inside. Ella ignores Caden’s advances, placing her ear closer to the door. There’s more giggling and Spencer chuckling.

“Oh my God.” Ella’s eyes peer over to me with a look that conveys,
You’ll be shitting in your pants any moment
.

The door springs open, and there stands a bare-chested Spencer with a brunette in his arms.

“Ariel!” Ella screams.

My mouth hangs open.

“El.” The girl’s panicked eyes glance to me. “Crosby.”

I tuck my hands in my pockets and lean against the opposite wall. He’s about to get his ass handed to him by Ella and I can’t wait to witness it.

Caden gets in Ella’s face again. “You know Ariel?”

“She’s my sister,” Ella bites out, her eyes zoned in on Ariel like a judgmental mother.

“No wonder you look familiar. Man, you’re both knockouts. How about a Caden sandwich? There’s more than enough of me.”

“Shut up,” the girls say in unison.

He places his hands up in the air and backs up toward his room.

“What are you doing?” Ella asks her sister, grabbing her hand and thrusting her out of Spencer’s arms and into the hallway.

“Whoa, Ella. You know exactly what I’m doing.” She stares over to Spencer.

My little brother hasn’t looked at me once during this exchange, only Ariel. Looks like we each love a Keaton girl.

“Not with Spencer. He’s Crosby’s little brother.” She tries to whisper, but we all hear her. Hell, the kid wearing the Beats headphones down the hall probably heard her.

“So what?”

“So…” Ella fights to find a legit reason the two shouldn’t be together. “He’s Crosby’s little brother,” she repeats.

The laughter that’s been burning in me pours out.

Her head whips around and she narrows her eyes at me. “A little help?”

“What? I think it’s great.”

Ariel looks over with a proud smile. “Thanks, Crosby.” She removes her wrist from her sister’s grasp and saunters over to me. Rising onto her tiptoes, she wraps her arms around my neck. “It’s good to see you.”

I hug her in a tight embrace. The little girl I remember grew up and now has a thing for my brother. “You, too.”

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers in my ear. “So has El.”

My stomach bubbles with hope from her words. I knew I always like Ariel. Even when she was the persistent little sister that never left El and I alone.

She backs away, and instead of going to her sister’s side, she cozies up to Spencer.

His eyes finally focus on me. “We’re dating,” he divulges.

I shoot him an accepting smile. “That’s great,” I say.

Ella twists around, still not pleased with the new revelation. “I need to talk to you, Ariel. Now.” She turns on her heels and stomps down the hallway.

Ariel glances to Spencer, me, and back to Spencer.

“Go,” he urges her. “I’ll catch up.”

She gives him a big hug and kisses his cheek. “Love you,” she whispers.

And those words throw me back. My gut twists at the thought that this is something more than puppy love. The question of whether the Keaton’s will even let Ariel date my little brother is now overpowering my happiness for him. What if they don’t accept him?

I was all on board with this being simple and innocent. But love? That’s a new level.

“Come in.” Spencer waves me into his room, finding a T-shirt to put over his head.

“Love?” I question, shutting the door. That word is serious. Heartbreakingly serious.

“Yeah, I love her.”

His lips smile wide, and I’m not sure anything could smack it off his face.

“How long have you known her?” I sit on his desk chair, not wanting to take my chances on the couch.

“We’ve been together since our senior year in high school.”

“How? We lived in Colorado,” I ask a question that I can’t imagine he has an answer to.

“We kept in touch after we left Beltline. Texts, emails. Last year, we decided to give
us
a chance. We Skyped.” He shrugs, tossing his shirt over his head.

“You guys planned to come to Ridgemont together?” I can’t stop the hurt in my tone. He knows there wasn’t a day when Ella didn’t cross my mind. Hell, a minute. A sense of betrayal washes over me.

“At first, all we did was discuss you and Ella, how you were doing, but then we decided we couldn’t discuss you two, so you were both a moot subject. So, I didn’t know much until we arrived, and she told me that Ella was dating someone else. I’m sorry.” He sits down on his couch, putting on his socks. “If I’d known, I would have told you.”

“Don’t sweat it.” I toss off his apology because Spencer deserves the opportunity to live his own life and not worry about mine.

Ella and her boyfriend are my problem. My only concern with him dating Ariel is if she’ll break his heart. The fact that I’m not sure if her family will accept him scares me, but that’s between them and him. So, I dismiss that dilemma to re-visit the familiar one.

“Listen, I have something to talk to you about.”

“You aren’t going to lecture me about Ariel?” he questions, slipping on his shoes.

“No. It’s your life. Live it how you want.”