Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (10 page)

We were sitting halfway up the bleachers at the school baseball field. Tweet was going to be a great journalist. She was able to set the mood so that the interviewee was comfortable. She knew I loved being out here and had decided this was the perfect place for the interview. She seemed really nervous today. Other than an occasional glance, she hadn’t looked at me directly. I wondered if she had heard the rumors about Brittani and me.

She stopped snacking on her pen and continued with her questions. “What made you first fall in love with the game?”

“My dad. He loves the game. He introduced me to it when I was four years old. That’s when I watched my first game on TV, sitting next to him on the sofa with a liter of orange soda and two huge bags of chips laid out on the coffee table.”

I smiled thinking about how excited my dad got about all things baseball. He was like a little kid.

“I don’t remember who was playing. It didn’t matter. What mattered was I got to spend time with my dad sharing something that he loved.”

I looked out over the field.

“The first couple of years I played T-ball and little league—I liked playing the game, but the best part was always the time he and I spent together. No matter how busy he got at work he would make it to every practice and game.”

I remembered getting up in the middle of the night as a kid, and seeing the light on in Dad’s home office. He was making up the work he missed in order to be at my practice or game. My dad was great and I loved him for all the sacrifices he made. I felt a lump forming in my throat. I swallowed hard a couple times before I continued.

I’m such a pussy.

“When I was six, he took me to my first pro game at Fenway Park. The Red Sox played the Minnesota Twins, 9-1, Sox. I was in awe of everything—the players, the stadium, the field, the stands, the dugout, the food, even the parking lot,” I chuckled. “My dad gave me one of the best days of my life.

“As far as the game itself, I love everything about it—the teamwork, the way the bat feels in my hand, the sound of the ball hitting the leather glove, the smell of the grass, and the concession stand food. I love looking up into the stands, seeing the fans and the most important people in my life.”

I turned back toward Tweet and caught her staring at me. Our eyes locked. The last time she let me look into them felt like a lifetime ago. I couldn’t read her look. It didn’t matter, though. The only thing that mattered was that she didn’t look away. Her hair was down. One side was tucked behind her ear with the other falling down the side of her face and curling under her jaw. The wind had blown it into a tangled mess that was incredibly hot. I wanted to touch her so badly it made my chest ache. Digging my fingers into my thighs, I fought the urge to reach up and brush her messy hair off the side of her cheek.

I cleared my throat and said, “Sorry Tweet. I didn’t mean to ramble on.”

“You didn’t ramble. You were perfect.” She sounded as if she were in a trance.

“So, any more questions?”

“No. I’m good. Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem. I wouldn’t miss spending time alone with my girl.” I hadn’t called her that in a long time but it still felt natural.

Whatever the spell was that had surrounded us for the past several minutes broke. She looked down and fidgeted with her notebook for a second before her pen took off tapping at lightning speed.

“What’s wrong, Tweet?”

When her eyes met mine again they were starting to fill with tears. This was becoming the norm and I couldn’t figure out why. She took in a deep breath and looked back down at her notebook. The vise around my stomach kept getting tighter with each second of silence.

Blowing out a heavy breath, she finally asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the dance with Beth?”

Fuck me!

I had completely forgotten about Beth and the dance. She’d asked me a month or so ago when we were at lunch. Tweet had to drop off one of her articles in the journalism classroom, so she left early. Beth was babbling away as usual while my gaze followed Tweet across the cafeteria. Just before walking out the door she was stopped by a large hand touching her upper arm. A tall, no-neck, dark-haired, muscle-headed Smurffucker was talking to her. The burning sensation in my chest spread like wildfire. He shifted back and forth on his feet, smiling and talking. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I knew what he was doing. He was asking her out. My teeth were clenched so tight that my jaw hurt. I saw Tweet’s head shake just before the smile dropped from his face. After one more touch of her arm, the muscle-headed Smurffucker walked away.

Nodding my head slightly in satisfaction, my jaw loosened with a smile. Beth asked me to the dance at about the same time. Apparently, she had taken my reaction to Tweet turning down the Smurffucker as a yes to her question. She bounced in her chair a couple of times, squealing and clapping her hands. After Tweet disappeared behind the doors, I realized what I had gotten myself into. I was going to tell Beth she misunderstood me, but she had already gotten up and hopped away. I caught up with her later that day. She was still extremely excited. I felt bad, so I didn’t say anything. Besides, Tweet sure as hell wasn’t going to ask me to the stupid dance.

Letting out a deep sigh, I rested my elbows on my knees. I lowered my head, removed my baseball cap, and ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times. I needed to stall as long as possible while I figured out how to explain this without sounding like a complete asshole.

“You know what, forget I asked,” Tweet blurted out.

She quickly packed up her stuff, shoving everything into her backpack, and stood. As she took a step in front of me, trying to get away, my hand shot out, grabbing hold of her wrist.

“Don’t run away from me. Sit back down.” I kept my voice steady and low.

After hesitating for a few seconds, she took a deep breath and then slowly lowered herself down onto the bleachers beside me. I turned my head and noticed she was staring at my hand that was still wrapped around her wrist. This was the first time in months that I’d touched her. Reluctantly, I uncurled my fingers, sat up, and focused on the baseball field.

“I felt guilty. I know I’m getting ready to sound like a pussy but I was disappointed that you didn’t ask me.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to go,” she said.

“I don’t give a shit about going to a dance. I wanted to go with you and I was hoping you would want to go with me, but you never said anything. When Beth asked I said yes for some reason. I wished I hadn’t after it came out of my mouth. She seemed so excited and happy. I couldn’t tell her I changed my mind.”

“Why’d you feel guilty?”

“I don’t know. It felt—like I was… cheating on you,” I stammered.

I couldn’t believe those words slipped out of my mouth. I was surprised but not sorry. I’d had enough of the mixed signals, raging hormones, pushing away, seeing Tweet in every other girl, rubbing up against Brittani, and watching some no-neck Smurffucker touch my girl.

Turning toward her, I said, “Tweet, I’ve been having certain thoughts and feelings about you.”

She was completely frozen. Nothing moved except her blinking eyes that showed a different reaction each time they opened.

Blink.

Shock.

Blink.

Hurt.

Blink.

Sadness.

Reaching out, I placed my hand on top of hers, causing her to snap back to the present and look at me.

“I think about you all the time, Tweet.” I said, lacing our fingers together.

“It’s nice to be thought about.”

It was a stupid response, but she hadn’t expected me to tell her this stuff today. Hell, I hadn’t expected me to tell her this stuff today. I had taken her completely off guard and it made her uneasy.

“When you’re around I want to touch you, hold your hand, or put my arms around you. I want to kiss you again.”

I continued to hold her gaze, searching for more than the scared shitless expression she had.

“Um… Noah, I have to go.”

What the fuck?

My grip tightened around her hand and I huffed in disbelief. “You’re leaving?!”

“I need to go check and make sure Tony got enough pictures and… um… look, I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for the interview.”

In one swift continuous move, she abruptly got up and walked off, breaking away from me. After I got over the initial shock of her completely blowing me off, again, I thought about going after her. I stopped myself, though. This wasn’t over but I needed to corner Tweet where she’d have no option to escape me.

Standing outside of Tweet’s closed bedroom door, I attempted to take several deep breaths before knocking. My lungs filled halfway with oxygen and then stopped functioning. I was nervous but determined.

I wanted and needed to finish the conversation we had started at the baseball field. Correction. The conversation I started and Tweet ran from. When I got home, Mom had left a message telling me we’d be having dinner over at the Kelly’s tonight. This was the perfect chance for me to get answers. Even if I had to barricade the door, there was no way Tweet was getting away from me this time.

I could hear rapid tapping coming from the other side of the door. She was working on her computer. Raising my hand, I knocked lightly. The tapping stopped and only dead silence was left. I started to knock again when she finally answered.

“Yeah?”

I cracked the door open slightly and stuck my head inside the room. She was sitting at her desk wearing a short gray and white striped sleeveless dress and no shoes. Her hair was damp, wavy, and draped over one shoulder. The strap of her white bra had slipped a little from under her dress and was creeping down over her shoulder. I felt a prickling sensation cover my skin and my stomach was flip-flopping all over the place.

“Your mom wanted me to tell you dinner is in twenty,” I said. My voice was stuck in my throat and came out husky.

“Thanks.” She glanced up, a slight smirk flashed across her lips.

Sensing it was safe to enter, I stepped inside the room, closing the door behind me. A little awkwardness stood between us, but no tension. I walked over to her. One eyebrow cocked up and an involuntary smile spread over my lips at the sight of her bare arms popping with goose bumps as I got closer.

Placing my hands on the back of her chair, I looked over her shoulder and asked, “What are you working on?”

“Your article,” she answered, tilting her head straight back.

“Make me look good,” I said, peering down into teal beauties.

“There’s no other way for you to look.”

From the shocked expression that flashed across her face it was obvious she didn’t mean to say those words. My eyes shifted and I discovered, from this vantage point, that I had an excellent view down the front of her dress, revealing a white lace bra. A shiver ran through me causing my own goose bumps to surface. I gripped the back of the chair. My eyes followed the light pink blush that speckled her chest, went up her neck, and over her cheeks. Tweet’s gaze quickly darted back down to the computer screen.

Needing some distance between us, I walked over to her bed and sat.

Trying to focus and not think about her boobs covered in white lace, I leaned back on my hands and asked, “Tweet, what was the deal today?”

She swung the chair around so that we were facing each other. “What deal are you referring to?”

I couldn’t believe she was going to play the clueless card
.

“Don’t do that. Now’s not the time to play dumb,” I said, keeping eye contact.

“You seem to be under the impression that I play
dumb.”

“Why’d you run away from me today?”

“I really had to leave.”

I stared at her, not responding to her smartass attempt to avoid my question. Her left leg subtly started to bounce, and sped up the longer I sat there waiting for her to give me a
real
answer. She swiveled back and forth in the chair a few times before hopping up and heading toward her dresser. I watched her fumbling reflection in the mirror as she searched for something. I was getting more and more annoyed with her stalling. Supper was going to be ready soon and I wanted an answer before we left this room.

She grabbed her brush and raked it through her hair several times. Then taking her sweet-ass time, she piled her hair on top of her head and pinned it.

Time’s up.

“Why?” I asked, trying hard to keep my tone even.

“Because we were having guests for dinner,” she answered with a smirk.

I sat up straight, shook my head, and huffed in frustration, “Dammit Tweet! Would you stop being such a smartass for one minute?”

She whipped around in my direction.

“You do this every time there’s something serious to talk about,” I accused.

“Do what?”

“Make jokes and then run away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Running both hands over my face, I pleaded, “Please talk to me.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

It was time to go big or go home. After she ran from me today I knew she had feelings for me that went beyond friendship. I could tell in the way she looked at me, the jealousy, and how her body automatically reacted whenever we were near each other.