Song Chaser (Chasers) (22 page)

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Authors: Kandi Steiner

BOOK: Song Chaser (Chasers)
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I am changed, and I never want to go back to the way I was before.

Chapter 19

Trick Shots

 

Tanner

We got back to the house around four, changing into our sweats and climbing into the guest bed together. Kellee worried what my parents would think, but I promised to sneak back into my room before they woke up – anything to stay pressed against her. I feel like I’m dreaming, like tonight wasn’t real and if I don’t touch her I’m going to wake up and she’ll be gone again. I pull her closer against me, my legs tangled with hers and her back pressed to my chest. Her breaths are heavy, steady as she sleeps next to me.

I know I should sleep, too, but I’m completely wired. For once, I can’t sleep and it’s not a bad thing. My mind keeps flashing back to the sight of Kellee dancing by the fire, to the charged energy than ran through me when she told me to save her, to the way she felt moving beneath me in the boat.

Shit, now I’m hard again.

I adjust myself and nuzzle into Kellee’s neck, inhaling her scent. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve a first shot with her let alone a second chance. This thing between us is fragile, I feel it threatening to break again as I run my fingers through her hair, but I’m determined t
o hold it together. I want this. I want her.

Please, God, don’t let me fuck this up.

 

*     *     *

 

“Your cinnamon French toast never gets old, Mo
m,” I say, shoving another fork full into my mouth. The energy from last night still courses through me and I feel like I can take on the world, like I could jump up and run a fucking marathon.

She giggles, “I can’t believe out of everything I make
, your favorite breakfast is still the easiest one.”

“I’m a simple man, what can I say?”

“Hardly,” Kellee says, rounding the corner in to the kitchen. Her hair is disheveled and her cheeks bright red from how I woke her up. I lick my lips at the thought and she blushes deeper, her thoughts following mine.

“Oh
, good morning, sweetie!” Mom says, setting a plate piled high with toast in front of Kellee as she sits down. “Did you have fun at the party last night? I figured you two wouldn’t be up and around until this afternoon.”

Kellee smiles and glances at me quickly before
answering, “It was a lot of fun. I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Really?” Mom and Dad say at the same time.

Kellee nods, covering her plate in syrup. “It was my first time.”

“Oh you have to come back,” Dad says, setting his coffee mug down a little too forcefully. “Cruising the lake at night is nothing compared to flying across the waves during the day, or riding on a tube behind it. Come back this summer and we’ll take it for a real spin.”

I said almost the same thing to Kellee last night when we were on the boat and she had offered a sad, reluctant smile. But now, she finds my eyes and her smile is sure, sincere. “I’d love that.”

“So, Son,” my mom takes her seat at the table and sips from h
er mug. “Where do you want to go for your birthday dinner tonight?”

Kellee almost chokes on the bite she just took and her eyes grow wide. She swallows hard, following with a quick drink of coffee, “It’s your birthday?”

“Of course he didn’t tell you, sounds just like him. He tries to make us forget every year, never likes to make a big deal about it,” Mom shakes her head, smiling.

I shrug, “I just think there are more important things worth celebrating. I don’t mind doing something small for my birthday, but I never understood the whole ‘let’s throw a party because I’m one year older’ thing.”

Kellee’s mouth is still hanging open, her brows pinched together. “But, I don’t have a gift for you.” She says it so sweetly, so fucking cutely that I want to pull her pouty lip between my teeth and give her an idea of what she could give me.

“Looks like we need to go shopping then!” Mom says a little too excitedly. Dad and I roll our eyes at the same time and Kellee laughs. “We can go this afternoon before dinner, sweetie.”

“Perfect,” Kellee says, but she’s still eying me like she can’t believe I didn’t tell her. I guess I should have, but with everything going on, I didn’t really think of it. A sick feeling comes over me as I think about Mariah.

She won’t have another birthday.

I shake the thought and focus on being happy. That’s what she would want me to do today. “Dad, you ready to get your ass whooped in ball?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.

“Yeah right!” Dad exclaims, standing to take his dishes to the sink. “Don’t try to show off in front of Kellee, we both know you can’t take your old man.”

“Basketball?” Kellee asks, helping Dad with the dishes. She’s so fucking kind, so unlike me.

“Yeah, it’s tradition. Every
year we play three games – One-on-One, HORSE, and Around the World – on my birthday. I’m surprised he still keeps up with it since he hasn’t beat me since I turned fourteen.”

“Sharon, can you check your son
’s vitals and make sure he’s not having some sort of delusional attack?” Dad teases and I laugh.

“You guys have a lot of tradition around here,” Kellee says, her eyes appraising me.

I shrug, “Want to join?”

“I don’t have any workout clothes.”

“Oh!” Mom chimes in. “I have plenty, dear. I’ll go grab you something right now!” She rounds the corner and is halfway up the stairs before Kellee can say another word.

“Problem solved,” I say, smiling. “How’s your defense, Frecks?”

My dad smiles and Kellee blushes. This is going to be fun.

 

*     *     *

 

“You had enough yet, Pops?” I jerk left and hit a jump shot, the ball sinking through the net. Dad curses and wraps his arm around my neck, pulling me in and rubbing his knuckles against my head. I laugh and push him off, running for the rebound.

“Alright, I give in,” he says, panting a little. His light blue t-shirt is soaked in sweat even though it’s only in the sixties today. It amazes me how in shape both he and Mom are since they’re
both turning fifty-four next year. Dad may have even more definition in his triceps than I do.

Nah, not quite.

The warm sun and low cloud cover is making for a pretty perfect day to be outside. Kellee retreated after a few games, walking down to the dock and sprawling out in one of the wooden chairs Dad had built to match the dock back when I was in elementary school. I palm the ball and glance her way, spinning it on the tips of my fingers as I watch how the sun reflects off her blonde hair, the way it plays on the skin of her neck as she tilts her head back toward the sky.

I have never been so jealous of sunlight.

“What do you say we call it quits for the day,” Dad says, handing me one of the water bottles we brought out. He wipes his face with the towel and nods toward the dock, “I think there might be something a little more entertaining to do than play basketball on a day like this.”

I smile, “Sure beats a beat up old mattress in New York City, doesn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” Dad crosses his arms and stares out at Kellee, appraising. “I feel like it’s unfair to compare her to your ex.”

I punch him playfully and he smiles, heading toward the house. I keep my eyes locked on Kellee as I walk toward the dock, noting the way her chest moves with her breaths, the way her thighs fight against the fabric of my mom’s workout shorts. Kellee has pulled them up a little higher, stretching her long legs out in front of her.

“You know, I feel a little weird checking you out in my mom’s clothes.”

Kelle
e startles a little, but keeps her eyes closed and her face to the sky, a slow smile finding her lips. “There’s a line I haven’t heard before.”

“Finally! I was going to go with, ‘did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?’ Glad I went with the mom clothes line instead.”

She opens her eyes and squints up at me, “You’re a dork.”

“And you’re about to be a sore loser. Come on, one last game,” I reach my hand out and help her stand.

“What are we playing?”

I smile, grabbing her hand and leading her back toward the concrete half court behind our garage. I still remember when Mom surprised me on my seventh birthday by having it painted with lines like a real court and installing a permanent hoop. Staring at it now, thinking of all the times Dad and I played, all the afternoons that turned to evening and eventually to night becau
se we were having so much fun – it makes me glad that I came here. And holding Kellee’s hand, I know I’m even happier that she’s with me.

“Have you ever seen
Love and Basketball
?” I ask, glancing sideways at her.

She nod
s, her brow raised.

“Well, we’re playing the same game they played. The one at the end.
Except instead of One-on-One, we’re playing HORSE.”

I watch her face as she thinks, the realization hitting her. She smacks my arm, her eyes wide as she whisper shouts at me, “We can’t play strip basketball, Tanner! We’re at your parents’ house!”

I laugh, pulling her under my arm. “Dad is in the shower and Mom left for the gym when we came out here. She does two back to back classes on Friday, so we’re practically alone.”

She crosses her arms, “No way, Tanner. Not happening.”

I throw my hands up in mock surrender, grabbing the ball from the ground and dribbling it between my legs. “It’s all good, Frecks. I don’t blame you for being scared.”

She stops, her arms still crossed and her hip popping out to the side. Her lips purse together, “I am not
scared
, I’m respectful.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, loser,” I take the ball to the rim and dunk it,
hanging from the rim just long enough to glance back and throw her a smile.

She taps her foot.

Bites her lip.

Damn, I’d like to bite that lip.

“Ugh!” She storms toward me and grabs the ball. “Fine. You’re going to be naked anyway, so no reason for me to be worried.”

I smirk, “Can’t wait to see what color your thong is today, Frecks.” I steal the ball and dribble it over to my sweet spot. “I’ll start.
Since we’re playing HORSE, each time you get a letter – you lose a piece of clothing,” I turn toward the hoop and throw the ball up, watching as it flows through the net just like it does every time I shoot from the far left. “Let’s start with that shirt, shall we?”

Kellee rolls her eyes, grabbing the ball off the ground. “First of all, I get to pick what comes off, not you. Second of all, I want to make a rule, too.”

“And that is?”

She lines her feet up where mine were and shoots, sinking it just like I did. “You can’t shoot from the same spot twice,” she smiles, turning back toward me. “Guess your sweet spot isn’t very loyal to just you.”

My mouth hangs open a little in surprise. Damn, this girl’s been holding out on me. “Am I about to get hustled? What happened to all the brick shots you were throwing earlier?”

Kellee shrugs, still smiling. “I had to take it easy on you, didn’t want your fragile boy ego to get damaged.” She tosses the ball back to me and puts her han
ds on her hips, “Now that your favorite spot is out of play, you better think long and hard about your next move.”

I’m thinking long and hard about something, alright.

“Cocky, are we?” I walk to the free throw line and square up my shoulders before letting off a shot. It bounces off the rim and I curse under my breath.

“It’s not cocky if I have the shot to back it,” she retrieves my rebound and walks out past the three point line.

I run over and slide my arms around her waist, resting my hands on her hips and leaning until my lips brush the back of her neck, “Oh yeah? Let’s see how you do with a little distraction.” I grip her hips a little tighter and bite down softly on the part of her neck my lips were just touching.

“No fair,” she says a little breathlessly, her demeanor changing. “There’s no defense in HORSE.”

I laugh and suck her skin between my teeth, making her inhale sharply. “Fine, I’ll behave then,” I say, pulling my hands away and stepping back. She stays fixed in the same spot for a moment, like she can still feel me on her, before adjusting her footing and taking a shot.

Nothing but net.

She smiles smugly at me as I take her place and she throws the ball back. I shoot and miss, which makes Kellee whoop and throw her hands up. I shake my head, pissed off that I’m the first to have to strip, and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side.

Kellee’s not laughing anymore.

“You know, you could have started with a shoe,” she says.

I shrug, “Yeah. But where’s the fun in that?” I shoot her a devilish grin as her eyes wander the length of my torso. “Your shot, Frecks.”

The game continues, the banter between us remaining consistent as we fire off shot after shot. Eventually, I’m in nothing but my boxers and she’s down to Mom’s workout pants and her bra.

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