It Was Me (3 page)

SIX

I spent the rest of the afternoon being fired up. It was hard to lounge next to her parents with a permanent hard-on so I did my best to stay submerged in the water. It was so goddamn hot that no one questioned why I'd decided to take up residency in the water. Abby toyed with me a little, brushing past me, trailing her fingers over me, so that by the time we left the pool and headed to dinner, I was pretty sure I was going to burst. I wasn't used to having to wait for her. As painful as it was, I kinda liked it.

Dinner was Chinese take-out from a local place, a Sellers family tradition. With her fully clothed, sitting at the table with her parents, I was finally able to ramp it down a little. And by the time I'd finished my sesame beef, lo mein and rice, I'd morphed into a sunburned slug that could've slept for days.

But Abby wanted to go for a walk.

“I can barely move,” I told her.

She shook her head. “Too bad.”

Her mom was busy collecting empty take-out cartons, stacking them inside of each other. Her dad had drifted to the living room, settling himself on one of the couches, remote already aimed at the TV.

“I need a shower, at least,” I said. “Five minutes. Just to wake up.”

“I'm putting you to sleep?” she asked, pouting.

I reached out and touched her arm, then lowered my head so my mouth was next to her ear. “No. But sitting around with a hard-on all day is a little exhausting.”

She leaned into me. “Is it? I wouldn't know.”

I pinched her arm. “Yeah, neither did I. Until today.”

She grinned. “Fine. Go shower. And think of me.”

I sighed deeply. This week was going to be the death of me. I gave her a quick squeeze and made my way to the bathroom. I turned the water on cold, rinsing the chlorine and sunscreen off my body, trying to ignore the appendage that was standing at attention. Two minutes later, I'd tossed on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, found Abby, and we headed out into the still-warm desert evening air.

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and the heat felt more tolerable without the sun beating down on us.

I grabbed her and pulled her up against me, rubbing my crotch into her. “Feel that?” I breathed against her neck.

She sighed. “Mmmm.”

I cupped her ass and fitted her firmly against me. “Driving me crazy, Abs.”

“I know, I know.” Her lips found mine and she kissed me, her tongue tasting mine. “But we have to wait.”

I bit her earlobe. “I'm tempted to find a place out here. Just throw you down.”

“Knowing my luck, I'd get an ass full of cactus needles.” She straightened, pulling away slightly. “Come on. A walk, remember?”

“I don't wanna walk.” I reached for her again. “I wanna fuck. You.”

“Later,” she promised, a smile tugging at her lips. “Later.”

I dropped my hands and shoved them in my pockets, trying to calm the fuck down. “Okay, okay. Let's walk.”

Abby slipped her hand in mine as we walked the grounds. “I just didn't feel like sitting around. I wanted to walk off my dinner.”

“That's fine.”

“You're having a good time?”

“I'm with you. So yeah.”

She squeezed my hand. “No. For real.”

“For real,” I said, squeezing her hand back. “I can't not have a good time when I'm with you.”

“Double negatives confuse me. Makes me think you're Yoda or something.”

“I'm way smarter than Yoda.”

“And taller. And not as green.”

“All I mean is that, yeah, I'm having a good time,” I said. “I always have a good time with you.”

“My parents aren't annoying?”

“No, they're actually pretty cool.”

“That's because they aren't
your
parents.”

“Probably,” I said, as we rounded a corner and passed another pristine swimming pool. “But they've been pretty cool.”

“My mom's worried about my dad pestering you.”

“He's not pestering you.”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I think he's just happy to have some testosterone around for a change. And he really does like baseball. So I think it's nice for him to have someone around other than me, my mom or my satanic sister.”

“Right. Well, he's not pestering me. I like him.”

“I hope so.”

We walked in silence for a bit, the sun sinking lower in the sky, pinks and purples hanging in the air above us. Roadrunners skittered ahead of us on the walking path and weird little birds chirped from the odd-shaped cacti in the sand surrounding us.

“I'm sorry about the baseball thing earlier,” Abby said. “I didn't mean to jump all over you.”

“You didn't. It's fine.”

“It's just...” Her voice trailed off.

“Just what?”

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. She brushed the hair away from her face. Her cheeks and nose were a light pink, the product of our afternoon in the sun. “I just don't want you to give up on it if you don't want to. And I don't want to be the reason you pass on something.”

I nodded, but didn't say anything.

“I mean, I love you,” she said, moving closer to me as we walked. “You know that. But I wouldn't want you to pass up on something like playing baseball just because of me. You'd hate me later on.”

“I could never hate you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Never say never.”

“Abby.”

“I'm serious,” she said, tugging on my hand. “What if in ten years, you wake up one morning and you realize the chance is gone and you didn't try because you were worried about me? You'd look at me differently. And I can't stand that thought.”

“That isn't gonna happen, Abs.”

“You say that, but you don't know,” she said. “Not for sure. And I just want you to know that I don't want to keep you from anything. Not ever. Whether it's baseball or whatever. I don't want to be the reason you don't do something.”

I stopped walking and pulled her to me. I slipped my hand around her waist. “Hey. Listen to me.”

She stared at my chest for a moment, then looked up at me.

“You're the reason I do things,” I said. “Not the reason I don't. This isn't eighth grade anymore. We have to start making decisions like adults. I've kinda learned that the hard way, but I've learned it.”

She turned her head and laid it against my chest. I wrapped both arms around her. “And thanks for saying all that. Really. I don't know what I want to do anymore. I'm not sure about school or baseball or anything. Except for you.” I paused. “I'm positive that I love you.”

Her arms went around me and she hugged me tightly. “I love you, too. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

She pulled back and looked up at me. “But baseball might make you more happy.”

“Happier than being with you? No. Guaranteed.”

“I meant in addition to me.”

I laughed. “Oh. Right.”

“I mean, me and baseball. That's just like winning the lottery.”

“Just like.”

“Without the money.”

I pushed the hair away from her face. “I don't need the money. I just need you.”

She smiled at me. “I need you, too. But just think about it, alright?”

I started to roll my eyes, but she pinched my back. “Just think about it. It's a tryout.”

“Abs, I don't have my gear, alright?” I said. “How the hell would I go play?”

“Those are small details,” she said. “They could be solved if you decided you wanted to go play.”

I wasn't so sure. She didn't understand and I didn't expect her to. But your glove and bat were like body parts. You couldn't just replace them at a moment's notice.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay?” she said, her eyes getting bigger.

“Okay, meaning I'll think about it,” I said. “But no promises. You're asking me to think about it. So I will.”

She studied me for a long minute, probably trying to decide if I was telling her the truth or not.

“Alright,” she finally said.

I leaned downed and brushed her lips with mine, felt her hands tighten around my back, that same shock of excitement I got every time I kissed her rocketing through my body.

“Do your parents go to bed early?” I murmured, my lips still touching hers.

“Sometimes,” she murmured back. “I'm actually hoping they're passed out when we get back.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Because I've got a lot of thinking to do.”

She pinched my back again, harder this time ,and I yelped. She tried to wiggle free of my grasp but I kept her tight to my body.

“Keep it up and all you'll be doing is thinking,” she said. “You'll have plenty of time.”

I leaned down, held her tightly and found that little spot right behind her ear. She sighed and her body went slack against mine as I sucked gently on her skin. She leaned into me, her fingertips pressing into my back.

“I think I'll have some time for other things, too,” I whispered in her ear.

She made some non-committal sighing sound.

“But if you just want me to do some thinking...”

“No!” she growled. “No. I want you to do something else, too.”

“Yeah. What's that?”

She narrowed her eyes and I swear I could've dropped right there onto the pavement with her, oblivious to anyone and anything around us.

“Me,” she said, then pulled me back toward the casita.

SEVEN

Her parents were already in bed by the time we got back and we made the most of it. There was something about sneaking around in the bedroom, trying to be quiet as we had sex, that made it all the more exciting. We made sure to lock the door behind us, but it was like we were playing a game, trying to see which one of us could make the other make some noise loud enough to worry about. Abby devoured me and I'm pretty sure I lost the game, as she straddled me on top of the bed, her hands digging into my chest, her hips gyrating hard against me until I came so hard that I had to bury my face in a pillow to stifle my own yelling. She fell onto me, burying her face in my neck as her body writhed and convulsed against me, her own screams muffled against my skin.

It was a hell of a lot better than thinking.

Reluctantly, I'd let her head to the living room to sleep. Going to bed without her, especially when she was just in the other room, was tough and I tossed and turned for awhile before I finally drifted off.

I was up semi-early. I'd trained myself to be an early riser, so I could run and work out. My body didn't know I was on vacation and I figured, since my body didn't know any better, I might as well keep up the routine. I threw on a pair of shorts and my running shoes, trying to convince myself I wanted to go.

Abby was already awake and dressed when I made it to the living room.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at me, coffee already in her hand.

I leaned down and kissed her. “Hey.”

“You're running?”

“Apparently. I was awake.”

“I thought you might sleep in.”

“Me, too. No dice.”

She nodded. “Okay. I'm gonna go run to the store with my mom. Groceries and some other stuff. She's getting ready now. We shouldn't be long. You don't mind?”

I shook my head. “No, it's fine. I'll probably be gone for awhile, anyway.”

“Okay. Don't pass out in the heat.”

I leaned down and kissed her again, lingering a bit longer this time, tasting the coffee and toothpaste from her lips.

“I'm invincible,” I said. “Heat can't stop me.”

“Well, I'll hope your massive head doesn't explode in the high temperatures then.”

“Almost funny, Ms. Sellers,” I said, heading for the door. “Almost.”

“I try,” she called after me.

There was no cool morning air, just the leftover sauna-like heat from the day before. I had trouble getting myself going, the warm oxygen filling my lungs like sand, but I finally adjusted, got my legs to start turning over, and was able to start breathing normally. I followed the same path Abby and I had walked the night before, the roadrunners replaced by lizards, the emerald green grass that separated the resort from the desert electric in the early morning sun. Sprinklers were on full blast, drenching the grass in hopes that it could survive another day of hundred degree temperatures. I was the only one out running. There were other peopled out on the trail but they were walking leisurely, probably wondering what the shirtless lunatic was doing running when it was so damn hot out.

I wound my way to the back of the trail and took off on a sandy hiking path that took me right to the bottom of the foothills. I stopped when I reached the foot of the mountain, catching my breathing and futilely trying to mop off some of the sweat from my with my hands. I found a small patch of dry grass and dropped down, doing several sets of push-ups, sit-ups, planks and squats, the best I could do without weights to simulate my normal lifting routine. I downed the single water bottle I'd brought with me, then headed back, a bit slower, the heat beginning to sap my energy. I slowed to a walk as I came to the casita and glanced at my watch. I'd been gone ninety minutes and I was sweating so badly I wondered how many pounds I'd taken off.

I opened the door to the casita and was greeted by a blast of cool, air-conditioned air. I shut the door behind me, standing in the entry way, letting the vent above my head blow down on me.

“Did you go running or swimming?” Abby asked as she came around the corner from the living room.

“Running,” I panted. “I think.”

She looked me up and down. “I'll get you a towel.”

She was back twenty seconds later with a fluffy white towel. She held it out to me. “You may need another.”

“You think?”

I toweled off my head and my chest, then my neck and reached awkwardly around my back. I rubbed it over my head again and then one more time over my chest.

“I swear,” Abby said, lowering her voice. “I've never found you sexier.”

“Disgusting, right? I sweat like an ape.”

She stepped closer, her voice still low. “No, I'm serious. Your chest and stomach, all slick with sweat. Your hair pushed back. Your skin all warm.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “You don't even know.”

I leaned down and kissed her, teasing her lips with the tip of my tongue. “I'll remember that. For another time.”

She grunted. “Mmhmm.”

“I need to shower,” I whispered. “Wanna join me?”

“You wish,” she whispered back. “And so do I.” She took her hand, placed it on my chest and let it slide right down to my waist. “The things I would do...”

“Sweat,” I said, grinning. “I had no idea.”

She looked at me, licking her lips like she wanted to put me on a plate and eat me. “You really don't.” She took another deep breath. “Go shower. Before I get us in big trouble.”

I did as I was told and jumped into an ice cold shower, the stinging needles of water gradually bringing my body temperature back to normal. I toweled off, put on a pair of dry shorts and a clean T-shirt and wandered out to the living room. Abby was sitting at the dining table with her parents. The way they'd gone quiet as soon as I'd come into the room made me think they were talking about me.

Or maybe I was just paranoid.

“You survived?” Mr. Sellers asked as I slid into the seat across from him.

I grabbed the carton of orange juice and filled my glass. “Barely.”

“Brave man, working out in the heat.”

“It wasn't that bad,” I said. “I didn't go that hard.”

“Why anyone would run unless they are being chased is beyond me,” Abby's mother said.

I laughed and swallowed down the orange juice.

Abby passed me the plate of bagels but she seemed different than before my shower. Quiet. Nervous. I smiled at her, trying to get a response, but she looked away.

And then I realized all of them were quiet.

I wasn't being paranoid.

Mr. and Mrs. Sellers were looking at Abby, waiting on her.

I just wasn't sure for what.

So I waited, too. I coated my bagel with cream cheese and stayed quiet.

Abby finally let out a long, loud sigh. “Alright. So don't get pissed at me.”

I looked at her parents, then at her. “I'm assuming you're talking to me?”

She frowned, then nodded. “Yes. I'm talking to you.”

I shoved one half of the bagel in my mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Okay. Why shouldn't I be pissed at you?”

“That isn't a promise.”

“You're right. It's not. Why shouldn't I be pissed at you?”

She looked at both of her parents. Her mother looked a little nervous but her father appeared more amused than anything.

Abby started to say something, then she stood and left the room.

I looked at her parents. “I don't get it.”

Her dad held up a finger, indicating I should wait.

Abby returned.

With a baseball glove, a baseball bat and a duffel bag that appeared to be full.

She set them on her chair. “These are for you.”

I stared at them. “For me? I've got stuff.”

“Not with you,” she said. “I think you should go to the tryout today. So when my mom and I went to the store, we also stopped at the sporting goods place.” She gestured at the bag. “There are cleats and socks and batting gloves in there. And a Padres hat. I figured you needed a hat, too.”

“And pants,” her mother said. “She bought you those white baseball pants, too.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

“I think you should, too, West,” her dad chimed in. “There's no harm in it. But something good could come from it. You never know.”

I nodded slowly, trying to steady my breathing.

“I know you said you'd think about it,” Abby said, her hands gripping the back of the chair. “But you don't have time to think about it. It's today. And if you don't want to, that's fine. I can take all this back. But I just...if you wanted to do it, I wanted you to be able to.”

It was like I could feel the fuse attached to my skull and it was doing a slow burn.

“So you can't be mad at me,” she said. “Please don't be mad.”

I set my napkin on the table and glanced at her parents. “Excuse me.”

I pushed back from the table, stood and walked through the living room toward the front door. I pulled it closed behind me, barely noticing the heat, shaking my head. I was ten steps beyond it when I heard it open and then close again.

“You can't be mad at me,” Abby said.

“The fuck I can't.”

“West. Stop.”

But I didn't. I kept walking. I heard her sandals clacking against the pavement until she was next to me.

“Fine. I'll take it all back.”

“Hope you still have the receipt.”

“I do. I knew you might get pissed.”

I came to a stop. “Then why the fuck did you tell me not to be?”

“Because I don't want you to be mad,” she said. “But I think this is an opportunity. For you. And for us.”

“How the hell is it for us?”

She held up her hand telling me to slow down. “One thing at a time. You're jumping ahead again.”

“I'm jumping ahead again?” I said. “I am? I told you I'd think about it and the next thing I know, you're outfitting me like some Little Leaguer!”

“Well, I knew you'd need stuff!”

“That's not the point!”

“So what's the point?” she yelled back at me. “That you're afraid? Because I think that's the only point there is right now!”

I started to say something, then stopped. Then I started walking again.

She chased after me. “I'm right, aren't I? You're afraid. You haven't played in over a year. And you got your dream yanked out from under you. You're afraid of failing and you're afraid of having it taken away from you again.”

I didn't say anything again, just kept walking.

“Well, newsflash, West,” she said, breathing heavy, trying to keep up with me. “Everyone is afraid of those things. Everyone. You aren't the only one. And if you need me to spit out a bunch of corny cliches about trying and failing and all that crap, I will. But you're smarter than that. So quit being a baby.”

I slowed my pace, her words digging into me like tiny razor blades. I came to a stop.

Abby stopped next to me. She stared at me, then shook her head, pushing her hair off her now sweaty forehead. “I mean, it's a tryout. You aren't signing your life away to anyone right now. You can always say no. But I don't get why you're being so stubborn about it.”

I stubbed my flip-flop against the ground. “And what if no one wants to offer me the chance to sign my life away?”

She sighed and reached for my hand. “It's alright to be a little afraid. It really is.”

“I don't think afraid is the right word,” I said. “I'm not sure what the right word is.”

“Whatever it is, I don't think it suits you,” she said, squeezing my fingers. “And no matter what you tell me, you won't be able to convince me that you don't still think about playing. I know that's why you got the job at the academy. I know that's why the TV is always tuned to a game. You can't fool me, West. I know it's still there.” She touched my chest lightly with her hand. “I know it's still in there.”

I covered her hand with mine. She was right, of course. It was still there. And I wasn't sure what the word was, but I didn't think I could stand the idea of having it all taken away from me again. I wasn't afraid of it, but I wasn't sure I could deal with it again. And that didn't even begin to address what it would be like if I did go play somewhere other than San Diego.

Somewhere without Abby.

“If you don't want me to come, I won't,” she said. “My dad can take you.” She laughed. “I'm not sure we could keep him away, anyway. But if my being there is a problem, I won't go.” She pressed her hand harder against my chest. “But I want you to do this. For you. And if it doesn't go well, then oh well. At least you tried. I'll take the blame.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn't blame you.”

“You can.”

“I wouldn't. That's not it at all.”

“So go do it,” she said, her eyes wide, her smile full of something I couldn't put my finger on. Maybe sympathy? I wasn't sure. “Let's see what happens. We'll deal with whatever happens afterward. When it's time to deal with it. But West?”