Play Hard (Make the Play #2) (12 page)

Getting ready for church poses as much of a challenge as preparing for my date did. Nothing fits me. Not even my loosest pants, which are the ones I’ve practically been living in lately. With a groan, I cinch my robe around my middle and hurry down the hallway toward my aunt and uncle’s room. I rap twice on their door, and wait. It’s the first time I’ve approached their room, and it feels strange. I know Uncle Alex is already at the church, so I feel more comfortable about it. If he was home, I probably wouldn’t bother. With how lovey-dovey they always are, the last thing I’d want to do is interrupt something. At the mere thought, I shudder with disgust.

The door swings open, Aunt Molly’s eyes wide with concern. “Taylor? You okay?”

“Yeah.” I bite my lip. “I need new clothes.”

She nods with understanding. “Okay. We can go shopping this afternoon.” Pausing, she glances down at my robe. “Do you have something you can wear this morning?”

I think about the skirt I wore last night. It’s a little dirty from playing baseball in it, but it will probably work. “Yeah, I think so.”

Scurrying back to my room, I pluck the skirt out of the pile of clothes on the floor. Aunt Molly put a clothes hamper in my room, but I always forget to use it. At home I used to throw my dirty clothes in the corner of my room until laundry day. We didn’t have a washer and dryer in our apartment, so Mom went to the laundromat on Sundays. I guess old habits die hard.

Carrying the skirt to the bathroom, I scrub out a couple of the dirt stains. A smile leaps to my face, remembering how fun last night was. It was so different from the nights Dusty and I went out. Those nights usually ended in Dusty getting high or drunk. Often he’d pass out and I’d have to find a ride home or walk.

Last night Cal not only drove me home, but he walked me to my front door. Dusty never did that. Everything about my life here is new and exciting. Sometimes it doesn’t even seem real. Like I’ve stepped into a fantasy. Honestly, it feels like a dream, and I wish I never had to wake up from it.

I wish there was a way to hold onto it forever.

After cleaning off the skirt, I head back to my room. After hurriedly getting dressed, I pull my hair into its usual messy bun and then apply some makeup. I’m finishing up when Aunt Molly knocks on my door.

“Taylor? You ready?” She calls.

“Yeah.” I glance one last time at the mirror and then head to my door. Aunt Molly is waiting in the kitchen when I get downstairs. She’s wearing a peach shirt, cream colored skirt and tall brown boots. Her hair is curled in soft waves around her face. After taking a swig of coffee, she grabs her purse and we head outside.

The weather is nice and warm this morning, the sun beating down on us from the cloudless sky. Once inside Aunt Molly’s car, she turns on some light music and drives the short distance to the church. The parking lot is full by the time we arrive.

“Wow. Does the whole town come here?” I ask.

“Most people do.” She smiles before exiting the car.

I follow behind her until we reach the front doors. Two men stand on either side holding a stack of papers.

“Welcome,” the one closest to me says, thrusting a paper into my hand. When I glance down, I realize it’s the church bulletin. “You must be Taylor.”

I nod.

“I’m Mark,” the man says. “Pastor Alex told us you’d be coming today.”

“Hi, Mark,” I respond awkwardly, and then glance over at Aunt Molly. She greets Mark and then gently touches my arm before guiding me inside. Stained glass windows line the wall, casting an orangey glow over the chapel. Pews line the room, and they are almost all filled with people. Aunt Molly stops to greet people as she walks forward. She introduces me to them, and I greet them politely. Then I see Cal, and I freeze. He’s wearing slacks and a collared shirt, his hair is sleek and gelled. I’ve never seen him like this, and I inhale sharply.

“Excuse me,” I say to Aunt Molly before breaking away from her. Cal spots me as I walk toward him. His head bobs up, a smile stretching across his face. He stands when I reach him. After giving me a swift hug, he indicates the pew he’d been sitting in.

“I saved you a seat.” Looking past the empty seat, I spot Cal’s mom and sister, and who I am assuming is his dad. Stomach knotting, I sink down onto the hard bench.

“Hey, Taylor.” Emmy leans over, flashing me a smile.

“Hey.”

Cal sits next to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Mom, Dad,” he says. “This is Taylor.”

“Hi, Taylor.” His dad stands, and juts out his hand. I take it in mine.

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Hi, Taylor,” his mom says, and she seems more friendly than the last time. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I say.

“Oh, that’s right. You’ve already met,” Cal mumbles.

Music starts playing, and everyone faces forward. The people who are standing scurry to find seats. Aunt Molly makes her way to the front row and sits down. Her gaze scours the room until she finds me. I can’t help but notice the relieved smile that passes over her face. Did she think I’d left?

Uncle Alex takes the podium and asks everyone to stand. I marvel at how different he seems up there in front of everyone. At home he’s so approachable. Here he’s larger than life. Obediently, we all stand. The choir begins singing, and everyone joins in. I try my best to follow along with the words projected on a large screen in front of the room. It’s not that I’ve never been to church. My parents took me a couple of times for Christmas, but I still feel out of my element. As if noticing my discomfort, Cal rubs my back gently. My nerves settle with each stroke.

When worship is over we take our seats, and Uncle Alex approaches the podium again. I settle back in my seat as he speaks. Cal’s hand finds mine, our fingers threading. I love the way his skin feels, all warm and calloused. His hands are so much larger than mine, and for some reason it makes me feel safe, secure.

I’m so focused on Cal’s touch that I don’t even hear what Uncle Alex is saying, until one word emerges, breaking through my internal reverie.

Honesty.

Honing in to Uncle Alex’s words, I realize his message today is all about being truthful. My stomach knots, and I wonder if this is directed toward me on purpose. Knowing Uncle Alex, I’m sure that it’s not. Still, it feels targeted. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling scrutinized, exposed. It’s almost like I have a spotlight shining on me. I fear everyone will catch on. They’ll know the big secret I’m hiding.

Taking deep breaths, I fight against the panic that threatens to overtake me.

When I can’t bear it anymore, I yank my hand from Cal’s and stand abruptly. Cal’s head snaps up, his expression stricken. I know that causing a scene will only succeed in making me appearing guilty, but I can’t stay in here another minute. With the walls closing in on me, I stagger down the aisle and out the front door. Once outside, I gulp in air as if I was underwater for minutes and finally found the surface. My lungs constrict, and I breathe deeply to make them expand.

“Taylor.” Cal appears behind me. I hadn’t even heard him walk up. I guess I was too busy freaking out. “What’s going on?”

Staring hard at the toe of my shoe, I struggle to catch my breath. My hands flutter over my neck, and I pull in air through my mouth.

“You okay?” Cal grabs me by the shoulders. “Look at me. Do I need to call an ambulance?”

I almost laugh out loud. Does he think I have a medical condition? At this point, I sort of wish that were true. It would be easier than explaining what’s really going on.

Forcing my heart to slow, I lift my head until our eyes meet. “I’m fine.”

Confusion clouds his eyes. “Then what happened in there?”

I have no idea what to say. A part of me wants to tell him everything. It’s not like I can hide it forever. In fact, there are days I feel like the clock is ticking on my life here. Like I’m on a moving train and it’s going faster and faster, and there’s no way to stop it. Pretty soon it’s going to crash, incinerating everything.

“I guess I just felt claustrophobic. I had to get outta there.”

“There were a lot of people in there,” he agrees.

I feel like shit. Why do I keep lying to him? When the truth comes out, this is what he’ll remember. He’ll recall all of the times I chose a lie over the truth. Bile rises in my throat.
God, what have I done?

“It’s not that.” I pause, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It was what Uncle Alex was saying about honesty. I guess it just made me feel bad, you know.” Peering up at Cal, I feel close to tears. “There are so many things I haven’t told you, and….”

“Hey.” Cal snatches up my hand. “It’s okay. I told you that you don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready. I meant that.”

“I know, but--”

“No, buts,” he says with a smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t go into this blindly, Taylor. The first time we kissed it was because you were hiding from your ex. I’ve known from day one that you have some skeletons in your closet. But I also know that who you are right now is more important than whatever’s happened in your past.”

I know he wouldn’t say these words if he knew the secret I was carrying. It’s so much bigger than he thinks. But I nod, grateful for the reprieve. Thankful that his words have bought me more time.

The last two weeks have been pretty uneventful. After my talk with Taylor the morning of her outburst at church, she seems to have finally started to trust me.
To trust us.
She’s no longer hot and cold, and she doesn’t try to push me away anymore.

Even though the weather is warming up a lot, she still wears my jacket most days. Normally only in the mornings and evenings. She comes to all my games, and she and Em have been hanging out sometimes. It’s amazing how she’s fit into my life so seamlessly. Mom even accepts her now, and it usually takes her awhile to warm up to the girls I date. I’m aware that she’s hiding something. No matter how much she opens up to me, there’s always something there. Something right below the surface that keeps her from opening up completely.

But I meant what I said to her. I don’t want her to share anything she’s uncomfortable with. Her ex controlled her, and I won’t do that. She’ll come clean when she’s ready. And until then, I’ll keep proving to her that she can trust me. That I’m not like her ex. That I’ll never hurt her.

At first Taylor’s aunt and uncle appeared concerned about us dating, but even they’ve thawed to the idea. In fact, they’ve invited me over for dinner tonight. I like to think it’s my charm that won them over, but I think it has more to do with the change in Taylor. She’s different than she was when she first arrived. Softer. Happier.

There have been other changes too. Some subtle. Some not so subtle.

For instance, her clothes have drastically changed. A couple of weeks ago she did a major overhaul on her wardrobe. Honestly, I think she looks pretty no matter what she wears, but her new clothes portray her better. I know she rides a skateboard. Or at least she used to. I’ve yet to see her ride one, and she refuses to get hers out no matter how many times I’ve asked. However, the skater clothes never seemed right on her. Not once I got to know her. It’s almost like she’d been playing a part, dressing like she thought she was supposed to. When I met her ex-boyfriend it was clear who had helped shape her style. He dressed very similar.

Maybe that’s the real reason I like this change in her. Because now I don’t have to be reminded of him every time I take in her ripped jeans and black t-shirts.

However, her new style is unique. She doesn’t dress like every other girl in town. She mostly wears leggings, and her tops are lots of different colors now, not just black. She continues to wear a beanie on her head, but she has some that are burgundy or brown, and some that say things like BAE or FLAWLESS, or my personal favorite, BAD HAIR DAY.

I’ve also noticed that she’s gained some weight, and that pleases me. When I first met her she was all skin and bones. Now she’s curvy, filled out. I like it.

And being at her house for dinner, I can see why. Her aunt cooks enough food to feed an army. After we’re seated, I lean over and whisper in Taylor’s ear, “Is she expecting more guests?”

Taylor giggles. That’s another thing that’s changed. She laughs a lot more than when I first met her. I love it. My goal is to make her laugh as much as possible. It shows me that she’s shedding her past, that she’s not as scared, that she’s embracing her future. Shaking her head, she says, “No. She always cooks like this. Even when it’s just us.”

My stomach rumbles as the scent of garlic and spices wafts under my nose. The food is passed around, and I pile it high on my plate. We don’t eat like this at home. Don’t get me wrong. My mom cooks most nights, and she’s not half-bad. But she fixes things that are easy – tacos, spaghetti, casseroles. A spread like this is rare. This is like a Thanksgiving Feast, complete with mashed potatoes and gravy. I dig my fork in, ready to take a giant bite of fluffy mashed potatoes when Pastor Alex bows his head and prays. Startled, I lower my fork and squeeze my eyes closed. When I hear Taylor’s muffled laugh, my lips twitch at the edges. Reaching out, I touch her arm with my hand, my fingertips skating over her bare skin. She’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and my hand lightly brushes over the edge of her sleeve. She shivers, and a small sense of satisfaction fills me. I love that she desires me in the same way I desire her. So far we’ve only kissed. But sometimes the kisses are intense, and I can feel the passion in both of us. I haven’t pushed anything more with her though, and I won’t.

Not until I know the whole story.

For all I know that loser ex-boyfriend forced himself on her. Sometimes she acts like someone who might have been violated in that way. When things get hot and heavy between us, she freezes up. And when sex is mentioned, even in jest with the guys on the team, she gets all weird and flustered. But the truth is, if he did hurt her in that way, he better never come back here. I don’t care how scary the guy seems, I’ll go after him. I’ll make him pay.

After the prayer, I start to pull my hand back, but my fingers fan over a jagged scar. My entire body goes hot.

“What’s that from?” I ask her softly while her aunt and uncle are involved in their own conversation.

She wriggles away from my hand, and I allow it to slip from her arm.

Her silence upsets me further. “Did he do that to you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It happened on my skateboard.”

My shoulders relax at her words. I can tell she’s not lying to me. And even though I’m curious about the scar, I’ve obviously rattled her. So I drop it. Leaning over my plate, I take a giant bite of potatoes. It melts like butter on my tongue.

“Baseball season’s almost over, huh?” Pastor Alex asks me.

“Yes, sir,” I answer. Even before I started dating Taylor, Pastor Alex made me nervous. It must be the pastor thing.

“What are your plans for next year? You must have colleges recruiting you,” he says.

I swallow down another bite of food and then wipe the corners of my mouth. “Yes, there are a few. I haven’t made a decision on which one I’m going to yet.” My eyes catch Taylor’s, and I see a flash of disappointment. My heart dips. We haven’t discussed the future yet. So far we’ve been living in the moment, enjoying the here and now. But at some point we’ll have to face facts. I’ll probably go away to college, and Taylor will probably go back to the city. Deep down, it’s what we’ve always known, but it will be damn hard when it happens.

“It’s nice to have options.” Pastor Alex nods his head.

Taylor stiffens beside me. I place my hand on her back and rub a circle with my palm to reassure her. It seems to work. Her shoulders relax, and I surmise that she must have been thinking the same thing as me. Worrying about our inevitable separation next year.

“I’m sure wherever you go, you’ll be successful just like you are here,” Taylor’s aunt says in a soothing voice.

I smile, appreciative of the sentiment. “Thanks.” Bending over my plate, I scoop another forkful of food and shove it in my mouth.

The shrill ring of the phone echoes through the room, and Pastor Alex stands.

“Excuse me.” Dropping his napkin down on the table, he pushes his chair back and heads into the kitchen.

Taylor and her aunt resume eating, and I assume this happens often. Pastors probably get phone calls during dinner all the time. At our house we don’t have a landline, so if someone gets a phone call no one else knows it. Mostly, though, my sister and I get texts and we return them under the table so Mom and Dad don’t make us put our phones away.

Pastor Alex’s muffled voice reaches our ears. It’s impossible to tell what he’s saying, but the urgency is evident. Something is wrong. Taylor stops eating, her head lifting to her aunt’s. They share a troubled glance.

When Pastor Alex re-enters the room, his face is drawn, his expression one of grave concern. “Taylor, can you come here for a minute, please?” It’s clear that he’s trying to be discreet for my sake, but there’s no denying that something bad has happened. Taylor’s hands are shaking as she pushes away from the table. I want to hug her, kiss her, comfort her, but I know I can’t. Instead I watch helplessly as she walks slowly from the room. The tightness in her shoulders, the rigidness of her spine betrays how scared she is.

I can tell Taylor’s aunt is torn. She wants to go in the kitchen to find out what’s happening, but she’s afraid to leave me. In the end, her curiosity wins out. “Please excuse me one minute, Cal.” With an apologetic smile, she stands and hurries from the room.

My stomach in knots, I stay seated as if my ass is glued to the seat. I want nothing more than to go in the kitchen and find out what the hell is going on. But I know I can’t do that. This is a family thing. As much as I care about Taylor, I’m not family. Unable to eat another bite, I set down my fork and take the napkin off my lap. I hear frantic whispering from the kitchen as I sit in my chair, waiting.

A few minutes pass, and then the three of them return, all of their faces grim. My insides twist.
What the hell is going on?

It’s Taylor who speaks first. “I think we need to talk.” There is so much sadness in her voice. It reminds me of when we met, and suddenly I don’t want to know anything. I want to go back to a few minutes ago when we were eating and talking like we hadn’t a care in the world.

But life doesn’t work that way. There is no rewind button.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Okay.”

Taylor glances up at her uncle, and he nods. “Why don’t you two go outside? Molly and I will clean up.”

As I abandon my half-eaten plate to follow Taylor outside, I can’t help but feel like this is the beginning of the end for us.