Play Hard (Make the Play #2) (16 page)

It’s the first time I’ve even touched my board in months. But I’m out of excuses.

Dusty’s in jail.

I’m safe.

So it’s time to move on.

Besides, Cal’s been dying to see me in action. I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to show him since my belly is growing, and I don’t want to risk falling and hurting the baby. The fight with Dusty was enough for one pregnancy. I’m not sure poor Aunt Molly could survive it if I had another scare like that.

“So this is it, huh?” Cal raises a brow when I hand him my board. It’s been almost two weeks since the night Dusty showed up here. Cal’s face is healing nicely, but there are still faint traces of bruising along his cheekbone and eye. It doesn’t change how handsome he is though. If anything, it makes him even more good looking.

“Yep.” I nod.

“I gotta be honest, I never thought I’d be angry with an inanimate object before, but I am right now.”

“What? Why are you angry with my board?” I narrow my eyes, confused.

“This is the reason for your scars.” He peers up at me from where he sits on the porch swing, holding my skateboard in his lap. “This board hurt you.”

Taking my board from him, I shake my head in mock exasperation. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh, it’s a guy, huh? That makes it even worse.” He stands, the porch swing hitting his legs as he moves from it.

“Don’t be angry with him.” I shove out my bottom lip in a pout. “Before you came along he was the only guy who made me happy. The only guy I could count on.”

He smiles. “Well, in that case, I guess I can forgive him.”

I chuckle.

“All right.” Cal rubs his palms together. “Show me what ya got.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do much.” Reaching down, I touch my stomach which seems to grow daily now.

“That’s okay.” He lightly brushes his hand over my arm. “Just do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“Okay.” I bound down the front steps of the porch, Cal at my heels. After setting down the board, I stand on it and push off. Then I step my left foot down so the board comes up, and I sweep my right foot towards the top of the board. The board lifts from the ground and then evens back out, and I cruise for a second before coming to a stop.

“Cool.” Cal smiles. “What was that?”

“An ollie.” I feel stupid. “It’s like one of the first tricks I learned.”

Cal swaggers over to me. Grabbing my hands, he yanks me in his direction. The board rumbles under my feet as I glide forward, right into his arms. “You didn’t have to tell me that. I was impressed.” His lips connect with mine. “Then again, everything you do impresses me.”

I close my fingers around his shirt, bunching the fabric in my fist. As his lips move over mine, I hold on tight to keep from sliding away. His tongue licks out over the seam of my lips until they part. Then his tongue tangles with mine. His hands slide up my back until his fingers skim the edge of my hair. It’s euphoric, mixing two of my favorite things – skateboarding and kissing.

Literally every guy I’ve dated prior to Cal was into skateboards, and yet I’ve never kissed on one. I’m certain that if I had tried with Dusty he would’ve been angry. When he was on his board he had singular focus, and trust me, I wasn’t it.

When our lips separate, I release Cal and my board glides backwards. Dropping my foot, I stop it.

“Wanna try?” I ask Cal.

“Sure.” He puffs out his chest, wearing a cocky grin.

I hop off my board and set it in front of Cal. “Okay, go ahead and place this foot on it.” He does as he’s told, and one side of the board pops up. “Now place your other foot on the board and slide it up like this.” I show him.

He does it. “This is a piece of cake.”

“That’s because you’re not doing anything yet,” I tease him. “Now this time, push off on the board and then put the steps together,” I instruct him.

“What do you mean?” He furrows his brows.

“Ah, not so sure of yourself now, are you?” I joke. Then I shove him out of the way. “I’ll show you.” I step on the board and push off. “Okay, so I’m putting down this foot, and bringing this one up.” The board lifts. “See.”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Cal nods.

I get off the board and push it toward him. He hops on and tries to emulate what I did. Only he bails. I chuckle.

“Oh, you find that funny, huh?” He steps toward me, snaking an arm around my waist.

“About as funny as you thought I was when I played ball with you guys.”

“I didn’t think you were funny. I thought you were cute.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“Uh-huh,” I say, unconvinced.

“I did.” As his lips cover mine once again, I think about how glad I am that we have different interests. It allows us to be who we are; to be separate. And I like that. As much as I love being with Cal, I like knowing that I can be alone too.

That even though I want him, I don’t
need
him.

“C’mon, man, you got this,” Chris hollers from where he’s crouched behind home plate.

Nodding subtly, I wind up and throw the ball. It’s straight and fast. The batter swings, but misses.
Third strike.

Smiling, I watch him head back toward the dugout. My gaze sweeps the stands filled with people. Anxious energy circles the field. It’s our last game of the season, and it’s significant to everyone here. But to me it means even more than that. Today is my last high school game ever. It feels surreal. I’ve been playing ball on this field for four years. Emotion wells up in my chest, so I take a deep breath. My eyes lock in on Taylor sitting in the front row. It’s too hot to wear my jacket, so instead she’s got on one of my hats. It looks adorable sitting on top of her dark hair. She’s got it on slightly askew, but that only makes her look sexier. When she catches me looking, she flashes me a smile.

My heart stutters.

Only Taylor can cause a visceral reaction like this in me. Every time I look at her I feel a pull so strong I know I can’t fight it. Good thing I have no desire to. She flashes me a thumbs up, and it causes my lips to edge upward.

The next batter takes the plate.

“Only one more out, Cal!” Hayes shouts from over my shoulder.

My eyes meet the batter’s, and I smile. It’s a guy I’ve been pitching against for years. He’s a cocky sucker, but he lacks the skill to back it up. I grin. “No sweat. Game’s in the bag, guys,” I speak loudly, and hear snickers behind my back as my teammates laugh.

I glance back at the stands, my gaze honing in on Taylor. With my index finger, I point at her. “This one’s for you, baby.”

Taylor’s face reddens. I can see it from here. She bows her head, but a small smile plays on her lips, betraying that she’s happy with the gesture. When I return my attention to the batter, I silently pray that I’m right about this. If he gets a hit off of me, I’m going to look like an idiot.

Taking a deep breath, I get into position. Chris flashes me a sign, and I cock my arm back. The minute the ball leaves my hand, I know it’s perfect. The ball shoots over home plate.
Strike one.

Cheers erupt from the stands.

“Two more,” Palmer calls out. “Bring it home, Cal.”

Chris tosses the ball back to me, wearing a triumphant grin. We already know we’re going home winners. Once again, I peer over at Taylor. Not that I was ever leaving as a loser. Not with her by my side.

She’s beaming at me, and it’s the boost I need to finish this.

I throw the ball again.
Strike two
. And one last time.
Strike three.

Everything after that is a whirlwind. Everyone in the stands cheer. My teammates rally around me. Hayes and Palmer even pick me up at some point. There is a round of “atta boys” and fist bumps. Even Coach Hopkins joins in with the celebration. For once we don’t get a peptalk or critique. No need.

The season is over.

And as happy as I am about our win, it’s bittersweet for me.

“Hey, man.” Chris pulls me into an awkward one-armed hug. “Weird, huh?’

“Very,” I say, knowing he gets it.

“Remember the first time we played on this field?”

“Yeah, and I beaned you in the leg?” I chuckle.

“I still bear the scar,” Chris says chagrined.

“We’ve had a lot of good games, you and me.”

“Best partnership ever.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You guys aren’t gonna make out, are you?” Hayes swaggers over to us.

“Why? Were you hoping to watch?” I slap him on the back.

“Or did you want to join in?” Chris teases.

“Yeah, you wish,” Hayes banters back.

“Trust me, if I was gonna kiss a dude, it wouldn’t be you,” Chris shoots back.

“Who’s gonna kiss a dude?” Josh joins the conversation.

“We heard you were,” I say deadpan.

Josh shakes his head. “I was coming over to say good game, but I guess I’ll pass.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Joshy. You can tell me good game,” I say, wearing an amused grin. “In fact, you should say it, because my stellar playing made up for your shitty playing.”

“Burn.” Hayes guffaws.

“You’re an ass.” Josh shakes his head, turning around.

I feel like a dick. It’s our last game. I should cut him some slack. Reaching out, I gently clamp down on his shoulder. “Nah, you didn’t suck as much as usual.”

He shrugs off my hand, but his lips curl upward slightly. As he walks off, I spot Taylor standing at the edge of the field.

“Excuse me, guys, but it looks like someone else wants to congratulate me. And she’s a hell of a lot hotter than any of you morons.” I shove through the guys crowding me.

“Go get her, man,” a few of them say as they slap my back.

“I’ve got someone waitin’ for me too,” Chris says, heading in Em’s direction. Thank god they’re far from where Taylor is. I’ve gotten past my initial aversion to them being together, but I don’t think I’ll ever like to see them making out.

I take large strides to reach Taylor. When I do, I don’t even waste my breath with words. Instead, I curve my hands around her waist, and tug her toward me. When she gets close enough, I crush my lips to hers.

I’ve sunk to a brand new low.

I’m wearing maternity clothes. Yes, you heard that right.
Maternity clothes.

The pants have little buttons inside so I can make them bigger or smaller. It reminds me of the pants I wore back in preschool. Only now I’m sixteen, so it feels weird. I’m too old for preschool pants, but too young for maternity pants. And yet, here I am.

Steeling myself, I breathe in deeply a few times before stepping into the school hallway. As I glance down at my “mom” pants and large striped shirt that covers my belly, I think of how much my style has changed since coming here. Not that I would call this a style. More like a necessity. To Aunt Molly’s credit, she did find me maternity clothes that weren’t terrible. At least I’m not wearing a moo-moo or a shirt with ruffles on the collar. And in case you’re wondering, we did see those when we were shopping.

After stepping into the hallway, I stare at the ground while walking forward. Feeling eyes on me, I remind myself that attending school was my idea. Aunt Molly had offered to let me do independent study when I first moved here. But the thought of being stuck in that house any more than I already was made my skin crawl. Now I’m thinking I should have taken her up on the offer.

Before my pregnancy showed, going to school wasn’t a big deal. Back then I was just the new girl. The girl who came from the city and dressed differently than everyone else. But now I’m the pregnant girl. The girl who got sent away after getting knocked up.

That’s right. I’ve heard the rumors.

And, I’ve got to say, they’re pretty accurate.

“Nice outfit.” A girl bumps me in the side.

I’m not surprised when I look up to see Ashley snarling at me. “Thanks. I’m pretty sure they have it in your size,” I say dryly.

She wrinkles her nose. “I doubt that. Last time I checked you were the only student who was preggo here.”

I shrug. “Well, chin up, from what I hear, you’re well on your way. I’m sure it’ll happen soon enough.”

She recoils as if I’ve slapped her. Huffing, she glances over at her friends as if hoping they’ll come to her rescue. But they all look as confused as she is. I guess they’re not used to someone putting Miss Diva in her place.

“Is Ashley bothering you?” Cal sidles up to me.

I glare at Ashley. “No, actually, I find her amusing.”

“This is what you want, Cal?” Ashley points to me, her tone laced in disgust. “You want to be with some slut who’s carrying another guy’s baby?”

As angry as her words make me, I hold my head high, determined not to let her get under my skin.

Cal fists his hands at his sides. “Really, Ashley, you think you’re the person who should be throwing around that word?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t get it. You act all self-righteous. Both you and your sister, but look at the decisions you make. Em’s boyfriend is a loose cannon, and your girlfriend is preggo. I’m so glad I got rid of the two of you.”

“Trust me, we couldn’t be happier about it either,” Cal says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Fuming, Ashley storms down the hallway, her friends trailing her like colorful kites. The other students stare at us, their mouths gaping open, their gazes locked on my stomach. Self-conscious, I smother it with my hands.

“I’m sorry about that,” Cal says, turning to me.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it kinda is. Ashley’s mad at me, not you.”

“Oh, I think she’s mad at both of us.” I chuckle.

“You’re probably right, but it’s because of me.”

I rest my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. Girls are petty and mean. I’ve been dealing with it since I was a kid. I can handle it.”

“I know you can. You were holding your own fine before I stepped in.” He smiles. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“My attitude?” I tease.

“I like to call it feistiness,” Cal responds. “And I find it sexy.” Reaching out, he grabs me around my middle, tickling gently at my sides. Giggling, I fall against him. As my face nestles into his chest, I forget all about the curious onlookers and Ashley’s hurtful words. Cal’s touch erases it all.