Bad Intentions (27 page)

I reach forward and cup Ryle’s face with my hands. “I’m not going anywhere, so stop pushing me away.” I try and force him to understand. To make him realize that he is worthy of so much more than he thinks. “I’m in like with you. Bible.”

“Bible?”

“Me and Mark… me and a long time friend back home...”

He interrupts me. “You can say ex-boyfriend. I’m not going to go postal or anything.”

“Anyways, Mark and I always used to say Bible if we were being one hundred percent honest about something. So
Bible
, I like you. I adore you. I want to be your girlfriend and wear your jersey around campus just to rub it in to the entire female population that you’re mine. But you have to let me in. You
have
to stop pushing me away.”

“Sit down,” he instructs, and I walk toward the side of the bed. Before I have time to sit on the edge of his mattress he says, “Not on the bed. Please. I won’t be able to say no to you a second time. On the floor.”

Unsure of what is happening, I bend at the knees and plant myself on his carpet. “Are we playing Uno again?” He sports a tight-lipped smile when I glance over at him and wait for his response.

“No. Not tonight. I just want to hold you. I want to apologize for my behavior, and I want you to
listen
to my words, not just hear them when I say them. Come here,” he beckons me to his lap.

Crawling over to him, I straddle his lap. His warm hands cup my face and for a moment in time, life is perfect. Brusquely, he claims my mouth. I let him, duh. He’s sexy as can be. I’m not going to turn down any of his kisses, but I’m also not going to let my heart continue to be fooled. This is what always happens. He freaks out. He kisses me. He’s forgiven. It’s like our relationship troubles are on a constant loop, and we haven’t yet figured out how to keep it from repeating.

The poignancy of our kiss is like a tragic accident. I can’t pull my attention away from it, even if just for a second. I am enthralled. That’s how I feel at all times though. I’m captivated by Ryle, all the while, I’m fearful that he’ll never truly open up.

I came here looking to be bad— and I was for a couple weeks. It felt good to break the rules and not care about being perfect so much, but now that I’ve cut myself some slack, I’m ready to even out again. I like who I am. Something about Ryle—his trials and triumphs—have taught me that I can be both versions of myself.

My mouth opens as I graciously accept his tongue into it. If there’s one thing I learned in college, it’s how to be an expert kisser, since it’s all I’ve been doing. Then an idea comes to me.

“Ryle?”

“Yeah,” he mutters while planting small kisses down my neck.

“Remember when you…” I’m thankful for the dark as I feel my face redden. “You touched me down there?” I refrain from saying the word fingered. It sounds so…tacky.

He responds eagerly, pulling his mouth from my neck. “Umm. Yeah. How could I forget? You were so hot when you were squirming in my bed. I felt like a ten-year-old boy who was on the brink of puberty. I almost came in my pants.” His admission makes my pulse race.

“I want to do the same to you. It’s only fair.”

“All's fair in love and war.” His words get lost in the sound of his pants unzipping. It startles, yet excites me.

I’
ve never felt as liberated as I did when Ryle came apart in front of me. It was almost empowering to know I made him feel that way. While I’m not fond on the actual deed, I’ll gladly do it again just to see him melt. And I have, several times in the weeks since he first guided my mouth down to meet his most prized asset.

Since then things have been great—more than great, actually. We’ve gotten to know one another inside and outside the bedroom. While we haven’t sealed the deal yet, we’ve done practically everything else a couple can do, and it’s been oh so satisfying.

I’ve even met his parents, Meredith and Thomas Benson. They’re just as wonderful as Ryle painted them out to be. What’s funny is that I’ve even grown to understand Naomi. Are we going to have a slumber party any day soon? Well I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ve been around the Benson house long enough now to notice what makes her tick. I have a new sense of sadness for her. I can’t imagine my father ever inflicting the kind of wrath on me that hers had done and because of that, I’ve tried my hardest to be nice to her.

Which is why we’re all going to the game together tonight.

“You’d better wear a long sleeve, Zoe. It’s chilly out.” I pull Ryle’s hoodie over my head.

“Thanks for the tip, Mother Hen.” She cracks a smile in my direction before pulling a Braxton T-shirt off a hanger in her closet. “Are you sure about inviting Naomi to sit with us?”

“No,” I blurt out the truth. “But it’s an olive branch. Now we’ll wait and see if she accepts it or if she turns a cold shoulder.”

“I hope she ditches us.”

“Girl, if we’re being honest…” I slide on a pair of brown boots that I bought off Etsy and had embroidered with my initials. “I do too.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Zoe turns to face me. “I just don’t understand why all of a sudden you’re being nice to her. She’s evil. I think she’s Satan’s spawn.”

“She very well could be.” I bite my lip, ensuring that I don’t let the truth about Naomi’s father spill from my lips. Zoe is my very best friend, but even I wouldn’t dare to tell her the truth about our arch enemy gone frenemy. At the first sign of Naomi showing her ass, I wouldn’t put it past Zoe to hold it over her head just to make her cower. “We better leave. I told her we’d meet her at the concession stand in ten minutes.”

We walk to the ball field side-by-side, faces glued to our phones. Zoe’s no doubt sexting Kaiser. It seems like the entire foundation of their relationship is built around sex. To each their own, I guess. I slide a finger across my screen and send a message to my man.

Me: Good luck tonight babe!

RB: Thx baby. There’s a shit load of scouts here.

Me: Good. They’ll all see you kick some Tiger ass.

RB: That foul mouth of yours. ;P

Me: How about a lil wager?

RB: I’m listening.

Me: For every batter that misses your pitch, you get to remove a piece of my clothing.

RB: You’ll be naked in record speed. But if those are the rules, I’m game.

Me: :) <3 Just give it your all babe. Heart you.

RB: Heart you too.

“Wipe that cheesy grin off your face. It’s not a good look for you.”

I groan internally at the sight of Naomi.

Zoe leans closer to my side and whispers, “Remind me why you thought this was a good idea.”

I nudge her side playfully and stride forward. “Glad to see you could make it,” I lie. Lie. Lie.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

Wow. Did she really just say something nice without a smart remark following it?

“It’s not like I didn’t have anything better to do, but at least now you two can sit with the popular crowd.” I spoke too soon.

Swallowing a sour grimace, I say, “We like our normal seats. We don’t want to change them now. What if it jinxes the team or something? Come on and sit with us.”

“Yeah, follow us.
Come on friend.”
The welcome in Zoe’s voice is faker than a spray tan. I love her for it.

As a trio, we walk forward and climb the metal stairs that lead us to our usual seats. I’m sandwiched in the middle and, for a split second, I pray that an asteroid falls from the sky and takes me out. It’d be better than the awkwardness that I know is sure to follow.

“So how are you and Benson?” she asks.
She always asks.

“We’re great. Thank you for asking,” I respond kindly.

Zoe’s response isn’t as friendly. “They’re talking about marriage.”

If Naomi was taking a drink, there would be no doubt that it would fly out of her nostrils. Her eyes bug out of her skull, and her olive skin tone pales drastically.

“Kidding,” Zoe adds.

“Right,” Naomi sounds the word out. “Ryle will never get married. He’s too jaded. I’m surprised… Never mind. No need to beat a dead horse.”

Ignore her.

Ignore her.

The first inning passes, and Braxton is winning. Thankfully, we’re far enough ahead that Zoe and I feel comfortable leaving our seats to go get some food. My stomach rumbles as I stand. “We’re going to the concession stand. Want anything?”

“No thanks. I’m going to go to the bathroom though.”

We stand and make our way down the steps. I breathe a sigh of relief when Naomi goes the opposite way.

“You’re trying really hard to play it cool. I give you mad props.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m only doing it for Ryle. It’s bad enough that he has to see her all the time at his parent’s house. It only makes things more tense when we’re going at it, and I don’t want Mr. and Mrs. Benson to hate me. It’s hard not having my family here, and they’ve really accepted me.”

“I wish that we could have met before college. My parents would adore you too.”

Her comment is so genuine. It makes me feel a tad remorseful that I’ve lost contact with my own parents. When I left, I promised them that I would come home for the holidays, but they haven’t contacted me, and I haven’t them. Are we all that stubborn? I intend to keep that promise, but I wonder if things will be different between us when I go back. Will they still care about me? I can’t help but feel like I abandoned them. I abandoned
everyone.

“I’d love to meet them.” I sincerely smile as we inch forward in the line. I haven’t touched beer or alcohol since I tossed my cookies in front of Ryle. A cold beer sounds like a sure way to drown my sorrows right about now, but I refrain and order a small Coke and nachos with cheese.

“Come on,” Zoe ushers us through a crowd of people. “We’re going to miss the last inning. I want to see our boys beat that Tiger ass!”

Dodging people left and right, I’m careful not to let my items spill. A girl has to eat regardless of how the team does. “Chill. I’m right behind you.”

We make our way back to our seats, sans Naomi.

Could we really be this lucky?

“Lemme have a chip with that gooey goodness on it, please.” Zoe puckers her bottom lip.

“You shoulda got some!” I tease, before dipping one of my round tortilla chips into a bath of cheese.

The rest of the game is a blur of laughter, cheering and stuffing our faces. There’s no surprise that Braxton wins. As if on cue, the crowd erupts into a cheer congratulating our team. My eyes zone in on the field and search for my star player. I notice him standing to the side of the field. Three older men surround him. I pray that they’re scouts and they’re here to offer him a ticket to the big leagues. I don’t want to be without Ryle, but I will never, ever hold him back. I know the feeling all too well.

“Come on, there’s Kaiser.” Zoe springs up from her seat and pushes her way down the stairs.

“Go ahead. I’m gonna go congratulate Ryle.” We go our separate ways. The night’s air is cooler than usual. I wrap my arms around my chest and walk toward Ryle, who is now surrounded by a small group of fans. It’s adorable how humble he is. He’s the star of the baseball team, and not once have I ever seen him let it go to his head. While he wants nothing more than to go pro, he’s always worried about the team as a whole and their success—not just his. It’s a truly admirable trait.

“Hey babe!” I scream to grab his attention.

He holds a finger up and puckers his lips, like he’s giving me a kiss from afar. I watch as he signs baseball gear from balls to school T-shirts. I haven’t given much thought about if he does actually get signed with a team in the MLB. He’s had his eyes set on the Reds. I don’t know much about this sport still, but he claims they’re the best.

I wait alone for a few minutes until the crowd dies down, and then I make a move. My boots carry me toward my man, and I jump into his awaiting arms. “You did so good babe!” I kiss his soft lips.

“Thanks. It was a good game.”

He’s so modest.

“What did the scouts say? Are they interested in you? I’m dying here. Fill me in on the details, buddy.”

He lowers me to the ground. “They said that I have a good arm and they’re interested in seeing more from me. They’re going to call me next week to schedule a visit.”