“Slow wasn’t the position I caught the two of you in yesterday. I’m happy you’re happy, but none of us are going to be happy if little Ryans and Beths pop out of that girl.”
Point taken. Sex may not be in the plan, but it’s best to be prepared. “What do you use?”
He shrugs. “The normal shit. Are you going to do it? The writing competition?”
“Yeah.” The normal shit. That narrows it down. I survey the assortment before me.
Colored, ribbed, lubricated, and because this experience isn’t God-awful enough—they have sizes.
“We need you against Eastwick,” Chris says flatly. “We’re a game behind Northside so we need two wins in order to move into first place.
If we don’t win against Eastwick on Saturday, then it doesn’t matter if we win or lose against Northside on Monday.”
“I can’t play fully for both games anyhow.
There’s a state law about how many innings I can pitch, remember?” How the hell am I supposed to know what size I am? I don’t go around staring at guys’ dicks. I don’t think I’m small and I sure as hell wouldn’t buy small even if I was. A guy has to have some pride.
“But you could guarantee us the win on Saturday against Eastwick, then play the later innings against Northside. You’ve dug us out of a hole before in later innings and if we get low on Monday, you could dig us out. Get the glow-in-the-dark ones. I bet Beth’s into freaky shit.”
My stomach clenches. “Beth is not into freaky shit.”
“I saw her tattoo. She’s a freaky shit kind of girl. Look, I get that you don’t want to back out of a competition, even if it is writing, but I’m not going to lie. You’re scaring the team.
You’re the leader, dawg, and what does it say when our leader walks from a game? The guys are starting to question if you’re losing your edge.”
I zero in on Chris. “What does that mean?”
Chris meets my glare and I discover he’s one of the “guys.” “I’ve never seen you walk from a dare in my life and you walked from the one with Beth. You just gave up.”
“I didn’t give up. I fell for her.”
“Exactly. You could have bagged the dare by bringing her to the next party, but you threw down the white flag the moment you hooked up with her. She’s got her hooks in you and I want to make sure she’s worth it.”
Not liking the tone or turn of this conversation, I fold my arms over my chest.
“What are you trying to say?”
Chris’s muscles ripple as he inches near me.
“You’ve changed since she’s come to Groveton and I’m not sure I like it. It was us and baseball—what you used to care about. Then she comes around and it’s me, you, Beth, writing, and sometimes baseball. You never once talked about going to college and now you want to walk from the pros. Who the hell are you?”
Who the hell am I? Who the hell is the guy in front of me? I step within swinging distance and, for the first time in my life, I’m willing to hit my best friend. “I’m the same damn guy who’s led this team year after year and I’m the same damn guy who encouraged you to date our best friend. I can’t help it you never looked close enough to see I could be more than a man with a ball and a bat.”
We stare at each other. Unblinking.
Unmoving. Until Chris flexes his fingers and gestures to a box of studded condoms. “That’s some freaky shit too.”
I pull on the bill of my hat. What the hell?
Part of me wants to punch him. Part of me wants to ask what just happened between us. I go the easy route and let Chris off the hook.
“Show me what you get.”
What if she is into freaky shit? What if she wants ribbed? When do you need lubricated? I don’t even want to think about the kind that says they’ll make her tingle.
“Does she have a latex allergy? That could suck if she does. I’ve heard stories of girls puffing up like blowfish and having to be rushed to the emergency room.”
My heart stops. “Really?”
“Naw, I’m messing with you, but I’d ask about the latex allergy before you put it on.”
Two teenage girls walk down the aisle. One sips on a slushy and twirls her hair. They glance at each other and giggle. Heat rises on the back of my neck.
“I’m not you, Ry,” Chris says after they round the corner. “I’m not going to college and I don’t have the pros knocking on my door.
Winning state this year, that’s my dream, and I need you in order to complete it. Promise me that you won’t let anything get in the way of that.”
Since I was seven years old I’ve glanced to my right and seen Chris backing me up between third and second. He saved plays I screwed up because of my pitch. My insides twist with the startling revelation—regardless of the path I choose, come graduation,
Chris isn’t going to be the guy on my right anymore. “You guys can take Eastwick without me and you know it. Northside is the team with the hitters. In the spring, we’re going to state.
The only game I’m missing is Saturday and I wouldn’t walk away if I didn’t believe that you guys have it covered.”
Chris studies me and I silently urge him to be okay with this. He’s my best friend and I need us to be okay. He offers me his hand and I exhale.
“Swear it, dawg.”
I clasp it. “Sworn.”
An easy grin spreads across his face. “Pick something out and let’s get out of here.”
I try one more time. “Tell me what you get.”
Chris places his hands on his hips. “I’ve never bought condoms before. Lacy wants to wait until we graduate.”
Beth
IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT and I inhale deeply before I knock. I have three days left until I leave. Ryan deserves better than me, but tonight I can pretend I’m good enough. The door opens and my heart starts, stops, and skips over itself when Ryan flashes that glorious smile with the right mixture of warmth and dimples.
“Hi,” he says. His voice alone creates pleasing goose bumps on my arms.
“Hey.” I’m going to make love to you tonight. Feeling shy, I glance away and I want to kick myself. Where’s the girl who could frighten football players with one look?
“You’re early.” Ryan closes the door and I move straight for his bedroom. Twice, Ryan tried to convince me to hang in another room, but being anywhere else in his perfect house reminds me that I can never measure up.
“Scott and Allison went to bed early.” I lean against the door frame to his room and try to calm the thousands of feathers swirling in my stomach. “Chris isn’t stopping by, is he?”
“No. He knows I’m seeing you tonight and that I have to be up early for my writing competition.” Ryan cups my waist with his hand. His thumb sneaks underneath my shirt and draws circles onto my skin.
I notice a bundle of papers tied together with two pink ribbons on the middle of his bed.
“What’s that?”
Ryan places some space between us, but slides his fingers into mine. “A finished copy of ‘George and Olivia.’ It’s yours. So are the ribbons.”
“Cool.” Because it is. Ryan will do well at so many things when he graduates.
“Take a look at the title page.” Ryan releases me and I immediately miss his touch.
I plop on the bed, untie the bow, and blink—
Dedicated to the girl I love: Beth Risk. My fingers skim the page as if caressing the words will make them more real. George was a short story for class. Olivia came to life because Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about the story. He dedicated it to me because… because he actually loves me.
A twinge of pain flashes in my chest. I could be happy here in Groveton. Scott’s not so bad.
In fact, I kinda enjoy waking in the morning and telling him about school. I appreciate how Scott nods while I talk and when I stop, how he asks questions to show he heard what I said. I adore sitting in class next to Lacy and listening to her ramble about useless gossip. I love health class and despite what Allison said, I’m becoming fond of science. I like watching Logan, Chris, and Ryan one-up each other. I like…I like…
I run my hand over the paper again. I love Ryan. I’m in love with him. I love how he smiles. I love how he moves. I love his hands on my body and his lips on mine. I love how he laughs. I love how he makes me laugh. I love how he can smooth away the roughness and make me feel like someone worth loving.
“It’s perfect.”
Ryan
IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BED, Beth touches the title page for a third time. She likes the gift.
The queasy anxiety I’ve had all day fades. The mattress sinks when I sit beside her. Crimson stains her cheeks as I brush my fingers against her skin. It’s hard to believe she’s the same girl from Taco Bell. Beth was hard and shut down that night. The girl on my bed is open and soft.
The physical differences are obvious. I run my hand through the sleek, silky strands and she edges away. She hates what I see, but I don’t. One inch of golden-blond stretches from her roots. The blond highlights the blackness of the rest of her hair. I love the black. I love the blond. I’d hate to see either one of them go.
Somehow both suit her.
I take the manuscript from her and place it on the nightstand. Her hands shake and she bites her lower lip. She’s nervous and I don’t know why. “Are you okay?”
She nods but refuses eye contact. “I wish I was perfect for you.”
“You are perfect for me.”
Beth rests her hand on my inner thigh and her fingers slowly trace the seam of my jeans.
Fire races through me and flames lick areas very close to her fingers. Beth starts again.
“No, I wish…” and stops.
Even though part of me wants nothing more than for her to keep touching me, I force my hand over hers. When Beth struggles with words it means she’s on the verge of saying something worth hearing. Her emotions confuse her. Maybe tonight, she’ll finally find the courage to say the words I’m longing to hear.
“I wish…” She sighs. “I wish I never had sex with Luke. I wish I could take back so many things, but I can’t. I wish I could be someone worthy of you.”
Beth is on my bed. Her body is close to mine and her fingers hold on to me, but something in her voice makes me feel like she’s slipping away again.
“I’m not perfect,” I tell her. “And you’re exactly who I want you to be—you.”
“I want you to be happy,” she says and even though she’s physically near me, I look into her eyes and see the glaze creating a wall.
Beth slides a leg over my body and straddles me. Her parts are right on top of mine and the fire within threatens to become an inferno. She knots her fingers in my hair, sending chills along my neck and down my spine. Her lips graze my earlobe, followed by a gentle tug with her teeth. Warm breath tickles my ear.
“Let me make you happy.”
My mind’s a mess and a small voice yells at me that she’s leaving. But she can’t be. She’s here, in front of me, driving me insane by pressing her body against me. My hands grasp her moving hips, physically keeping her near.
