It Was Me (12 page)

TWENTY TWO

“You guys decide to move to Arizona together and what?” Griffin asked. “You aren't going to see each other until you actually move?”

We'd been back in San Diego for two days and I hadn't seen Abby since we'd gotten back. Griffin was sprawled on the couch as I finished a sandwich.

“No,” I said, grabbing a handful of chips. “Her friend Tana is in town for a couple of days and they are doing...whatever it is they do.”

“Gotcha,” he said, stretching his arms up in the air, then folding them behind his head. “Kicked to the curb for the best friend.”

“Whatever.”

He chuckled. “I'm just giving you shit. I heard you the other night when you guys got back. I was pretty sure you hadn't broken up.”

It was my turn to chuckle. As soon as we'd gotten back, she'd tossed her bags in her room and hopped in my car, telling her parents we were going to my place and she was going to help me unpack and do laundry. We were in my apartment for no more than fifteen seconds before our clothes starting coming off. We'd spent the rest of the night in bed, making up for lost time and taking out our frustration at having been kept sexually at bay for a week.

Vigorously and loudly.

“Sorry about that,” I said, polishing off the sandwich and closing the bag of chips.

“No worries,” he said. “Gotta do what you gotta do. And apparently you had to do it.”

I laughed again as I took the plate to the sink and put the chips back in the pantry. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and crashed down in the old beat up recliner neither one of us wanted to part with. It looked like a piece of junk, but any time one of us mentioned tossing it and replacing it, we talked ourselves out if.

“So what happens next?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, with Arizona? With baseball?”

“Oh,” I said. I reached down, grabbed the lever and popped the extension thing so I could lift my legs up. “I'm supposed to get some more paperwork this week. Have to pick classes. Supposed to get my off-season workout plan. That kind of shit.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I can't believe you turned down the pros,” he said.

I'd called all three teams that contacted me. I didn't even let them give me their pitch. I told them I was calling to let them know I'd signed a scholarship offer with Arizona and that, while I appreciated their offer, I was going to go to college. Two of them were totally cool with it and wished me luck, saying something to the effect of how they'd be keeping an eye on me. The other guy hung up on me, which just confirmed for me that I'd made the right choice.

“You think I was dumb?” I asked. “To say no?”

He shrugged as much as he could from his prone position on the couch. “Not if you're sure that this is what you want to do.”

“I just didn't see myself being happy,” I said. “Riding on buses in the middle of the night, eating McDonald's every night, sharing some shit apartment with five other guys? Two years ago, maybe that would've been okay. But now?” I shook my head. “I don't want that.”

“Such a choirboy,” he said.

“Fuck off.”

“And it would've meant leaving Abby,” he said. “And you didn't want to do that.”

“That a bad thing?”

“No. I'm just thinking it all through. I'm also thinking that I'm going to need a new roommate.”

“I know,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize, dude. Shit happens.”

I did feel like I needed to apologize, though. Our living arrangement was the collateral damage of my decision to move to Tucson. He was my best friend. I felt like I was hanging him out to dry by having to move so quickly.

“We'll find someone,” I said. “You won't have to go hunting for someone or take in some kook off the street.”

“I'm used to living with a kook.”

“Ha.”

“Are you gonna marry her?”

“Abby?”

“No. My mother.”

I shifted in the chair. “Eventually, yeah, I think so.”

“Are you guys gonna live together over there?”

“We talked about it.”

“You think that's a good idea?”

“Would you fucking spit out what you're trying to say?” I asked, annoyed.

“I'm not trying to say anything,” he said, swinging his legs off the couch. “Settle down.”

“Well it feels like you're trying to say something. So if you need to then just say it and stop fucking around.”

“I'm not fucking around,” he said, getting irritated. “Look, you go on vacation for a week, then you come back and you tell me you've got all these plans. I'm just asking what the plans are because I have no fucking clue. And the only reason I'm asking is because I'd sorta like to know what my best friend is doing with his life. There's no fucking agenda, dude.”

When he put it like that, I felt like crap. I'd basically come back to town and told him I was turning my life upside down and it did, in fact, affect him. Maybe it was my own insecurity that was making me suspicious of his motives.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Nothing to be sorry for, dumbass,” he said, making a face at me. “You know I'm cool with Abby. So I'm not saying shit. I'm just making sure this is exactly what you wanna do.”

“It is,” I said with no hesitation. “It is.”

Griffin stood. “Then lets stop acting like a couple of little girls and go hit the water.” He grinned. “Cool?”

I nodded, glad I had a best friend who got it. “Cool.”

TWENTY THREE

The waves weren't great, but I'd missed the ocean when we'd been in Arizona and it felt good to get out and ride for awhile. But after a couple hours, I was spent and begged off, leaving Griffin rolling his eyes at me as I trudged back in and walked back to the apartment.

I showered the salt water off of me, pulled on a pair of shorts and called Abby. It rang five times before rolling over to voicemail. I sighed and left her a long message, telling her I missed her, that I was thinking about her and to call me when she got back. I laid on my back for a minute, staring at the ceiling, wishing she was with me.

In the bed.

I was still trying to play catch up from the week we were in Tucson and I hadn't gotten enough of her. I was craving her and I needed her.

I let out a long frustrated sigh and pushed myself off the bed. Laying there was just going to make it worse. So I decided to do what any twenty-something horny male does when he's sexually frustrated.

I went to the kitchen to bake.

I'd spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mom as a kid and it had rubbed off on me. I wasn't intimidated by cutlery or ingredients and I'd put together a pretty good repertoire of things I could make off the top of my head. I was a better than average cook, but I was damn good baker.

I opened the pantry and pulled out the containers of flour and sugar, along with a box of cocoa powder. Griffin had ribbed me when he'd first caught sight of the baking stuff. He'd shut the hell up as soon as I'd shoved a brownie in his face. I set the oven to preheat and cut a hunk of butter off a stick in the fridge. I tossed it in the pot I'd put on top of the stove and it melted slowly. I dumped sugar and cracked eggs and added a heaping teaspoon of vanilla. Flour, cocoa, salt and baking powder were next. I mixed just enough so the ingredients blended and then poured the batter into a greased pan. I licked the spoon clean before sliding the pan into the heated oven. It smelled insanely good already, the hint of melted butter and chocolate heavy in the air, and I knew it might be exactly what I needed to entice Abby to come over. She liked everything I baked but brownies were the best. Especially because I always made extra frosting...frosting I often used to dab on her and lick off.

I plugged my phone into the docking station on the kitchen counter and listened to the Foo Fighters while I washed the bowls and pans. By the time I'd cleaned and put everything away, the timer on the oven dinged. I pulled them out to cool and started in on the frosting. More butter and cocoa powder, heaping cups of powdered sugar, a squirt of honey. I licked the spatula, wishing Abby were there so I could lick it off of her. I sighed and tossed it in the sink. I needed to get a grip. Literally. On her.

I spooned the frosting on to of the still-warm brownies and it oozed over the top, covering the entire surface. I tossed the dirty dishes in the sink and grabbed my phone from the dock.

Still nothing from Abby.

I frowned and texted her
.
Left you a vmail. Where are you?

I waited.

And waited.

Then I texted again
.
I'm getting a complex.

I waited.

And waited.

Nothing.

It wasn't like her to not call me back, let alone not text me back. She was as tethered to her phone as I was when we weren't together. When we were with each other, it wasn't unusual for one of us to misplace our phone. But when we were apart? They were very nearly always in our hands.

I glanced at the pan.

Fuck it.

I wasn't going to wait.

I grabbed the roll of aluminum foil out of the cabinet, tore off a big enough sheet and covered the pan tightly with it. I put the foil away, pulled on a T-shirt, grabbed the pan and found my car keys.

Maybe she was in the shower.

Maybe she'd gone out with her mother and forgotten the phone.

Maybe she was taking a nap.

I wasn't sure what the answer was, but I was going to drive over to her house and find out.

TWENTY FOUR

I knocked on the Sellers' door and stood there, a warm pan of brownies in my hand, feeling like a delivery man. I could hear voices in the living room, the shuffling of feet as someone made their way to the front door.

I was disappointed when Annika opened the door.

And a bit unnerved.

Her carefully made up face was pale under her make-up and she wore an expression I had never seen on her.

Worry.

I tried to dismiss it. Knowing her, she'd done something to fuck up someone's life. I just hoped to God it wasn't her twin sister. Again.

“Where's Abby?”

She didn't answer, just shifted her eyes from me to the threshold where I was standing.

“Hey.” My voice was sharp and she looked up, her brows drawn together.  “Is Abby here?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”

I glared at her. “Don't lie to me. Her car's in the driveway.”

Annika's eyes drifted to the driveway before returning to me. “She's not here, West.”

“Then why's her car here?” I asked, annoyed and wondering exactly what the hell was going on.

“I...she's not here, okay?” she said, her voice a little desperate.

“No, it's not okay.” I stepped into the doorway and pushed past her.

She didn't try to stop me, but she didn't close the door behind me, either.

I walked through the entry and into the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Sellers were sitting next to each other on the couch. Abby was nowhere to be found.

“I...I was hoping Abby was home,” I said, standing there awkwardly, the pan of brownies heavy in my hands.

They exchanged a look and then Mrs. Sellers smiled at me in a way that seemed strained, forced. “She went out for a bit, West. I'm...I'm sure she'll call you when she gets back.”

I looked at Mr. Sellers. He was staring at his hands, folded tightly together in his lap.

“Okay,” I said. I had a dozen questions I wanted to ask. Why wasn't she answering her phone? If she'd gone out, why the fuck was her car still sitting in the driveway? But I didn't ask anything. Instead, I just help up the brownies and said, “I made these.”

It was a dumb thing to say. I felt the heat flush my neck when no one reacted. I couldn't figure out why they were acting so strangely, but I'd gotten the hint about one thing, loud and clear. They weren't asking me to stay.

“So,” I said, more flustered than ever. “I don't know if I should leave these or take them home...” My voice trailed off.

“Why don't you take them with you?” Mrs. Sellers suggested, her voice sounding as forced as the smile. “Maybe you two can enjoy them...later.”

I nodded and turned, heading for the door, the pan feeling like a fifty pound dumbbell in my hands.

Annika was still standing there, her hand gripping the knob. Her knuckles were white.

“What the hell's going on?” I asked, lowering my voice so her parents could hear me.

She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Where is she?”

“She'll be back.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

She chewed on her lip again. “I know.”

“So answer it, dammit.”

“I can't,” she said. “But she'll be back. I'll have her call you.”

“Gee. Thanks a fucking lot.” I'd been trying to get a hold of her for hours and it had gotten me nowhere.

“West, just...” She shook her head, looking at me with her sister's eyes. The expression in them made me catch my breath and I had to remind myself that this was Annika. Not Abby. “I promise. I'll have her call you as soon as she's back.”

For the first time since I'd known her, she seemed like she was telling me the truth.