The Boyfriend League (10 page)

“Yeah, I get that. That's the reason Brandon touches every corner of home plate before each swing. It's the reason you unfasten and fasten your batting gloves. And you were pitching a no-hitter. I talked to you and now every guy is hitting off you.” I came to my feet. “And it's all
my
fault. It's not that maybe four innings is too many to pitch. It's not that your arm got tired. It's because I talked to you. I brought you bad luck. Do you really believe that?”

He turned his head slightly and looked at me. I didn't realize how close I'd moved to him until he twisted around like that. When I'm angry, my ability to think seems to lock down; I'm pure emotion. And I was pretty angry, peeved I was being blamed for something that so wasn't my fault.

“I really believe it,” he said quietly.

And just like that, I wasn't angry at him anymore. I was upset at myself, because no matter how unintentional, I'd ruined his night. If I knew him better, I'd have known to stay in the stands. I'd have known to stay away. And if he knew me better, maybe he'd understand why I'd done what I'd done.

“I'm sorry. I know how much players have to focus, and I know not to be a distraction. I just got caught up in the moment, in the great game, in your terrific pitching.”

But I felt a need to explain more.

“Look, Jason, I love baseball. I love the crack of the bat hitting the ball. I love the seventh-inning stretch and singing ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game.' I love eating hot dogs and standing for the singing of the national anthem. I love doing the wave. I love Kiss Cam. I love that the game isn't over until it's over.

“I love the thrill of a home run and the disappointment of an out at first. I love the way a batter stands at the plate and the catcher readies himself to receive the pitch. I love watching
the pitcher windup. I love sitting in the stands and feeling like I'm part of the game.

“And tonight, watching you pitch, I forgot that I'm only a small part—the spectator. Watching you, I felt like I was
in
the game, out on that field with you. You're out there on the mound, living a dream that so few people ever experience.

“I'm sorry, sorry that tonight I ruined the moment for you.”

He was staring at me intently. I'd just bared my soul. Why didn't he speak? What could he possibly be thinking?

My nerves stretched taut.

“Say something,” I demanded.

“There's nothing else to say,” he said in that quiet way he had.

Then he lowered his head and kissed me.

T
he way he was delivering that kiss—slowly, so amazingly slowly, like savoring the first pitch of the night, or your first time at bat, or your first home run, or your team playing in the World Series—I knew I could safely say he was no longer angry with me.

Wow!

That's all I was thinking when we finally came up for air about two minutes later.

“I shouldn't have done that,” Jason said. “I really, really shouldn't have done that.”

Okay.
Wow
obviously wasn't what was going through
his
mind.

The most disappointing thing of all? I knew he was right.

I just stood there nodding, not sure if I was
nodding yes, it should have happened, or yes, you're right, it shouldn't have happened.

He took a step back. “Let's just forget it, pretend it didn't happen, because it could make things really awkward, living in the same house and everything.”

I started nodding faster. My throat felt like it was closing up. I wasn't going to cry, was I? I never cried.

He took another step back, waved his hand between us. “You and Mac…”

My head was going so fast now that my voice warbled. Or maybe it was my throat knotting. “Yeah, me and Mac…”

“Okay, then. This didn't happen.”

“Right.”

“'Night.”

He disappeared into the house, leaving me on the back deck thinking that for something that didn't happen, it sure had felt real.

 

By the next evening, I could almost think about something other than Jason's kiss.

I hadn't told Bird about him kissing me. I was afraid that if I voiced what had happened
out loud, Mom would somehow find out. And I didn't want her to send Jason packing.

So I just kept it all inside and tried to forget it. I tried to concentrate on getting ready for my “date.”

Looking in the bathroom mirror, I was grateful to see that the knot was gone. The bruises were fading. I probably should have asked Tiffany to do her magic, but I just wasn't up to dealing with the bubbly that was usually Tiffany.

I parted my hair on the left side and swept it down over the bruise. No matter how many curling irons I heated, my hair refused to fluff for me. So be it. We were going to be outside, and the heat would no doubt cause it to droop, anyway.

I was really careful applying the mascara, keeping my eyes wide open until it dried—no clown spots this evening. I wriggled into my hip-hugging jeans and slipped on a lacy light blue camisole. I accessorized with a navy blue lace choker. Maybe I was half a Tiffany.

The doorbell rang. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My first official date with a guy from the baseball team. Shouldn't I have
been more nervous? Or at least a little more excited? Mac was hot. He was cute. He was interested.

This was going to be fun.

And at the end of the evening, maybe he'd give me a kiss to make me forget all about Jason's.

I grabbed my big beach tote, the one I used when I was going anywhere near the water. I'd stuffed an old frayed quilt into it, because the outdoor amphitheater wasn't exactly set up for plush seating. Bird and I had been regulars last summer, and we pretty much had our routine down.

I stepped into the hallway at the same time that Jason was coming out of his room. He was wearing jeans and a burgundy T-shirt that accentuated his dark coloring. It was the first time I'd seen him since last night. He'd been noticeably absent all day, working I guess. Or practicing. Or maybe just avoiding me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

I pointed to the stairs. “I'm going to the concert.”

“Actually, Tiffany and I are going, too.”

“Oh, really? You mean like a date?”

“No.” He furrowed his brow, shook his head. “Just…friends I guess. She asked if I was doing anything tonight, and I wasn't, so…”

“That's good. You'll have fun. I'm glad. Really glad.”

Okay, since I'd started running at the mouth, I decided to run for the stairs.

“Mac's really looking forward to tonight,” Jason said.

I glanced over my shoulder and smiled so brightly I thought my jaw might come unhinged. “Me, too. I was kinda worried he wouldn't show, after my jinxing the team.”

“You only jinxed me. I've been thinking about it all day. I realized that I overreacted.”

“Ya
think
?”

“I'm trying to say I'm sorry.”

“We decided last night didn't happen, so as far as I'm concerned,
all
of it didn't happen.”

“Works for me.”

“Excellent.”

“Good deal.”

“All right then.”

I waited a beat. “We're on the same page.”

“Absolutely.”

We both grinned.

“I've run out of affirmatives,” I said.

“Me, too.”

“Okay, then.”

Before we could start another volley of senseless banter, we both turned to the stairs. Partway down them, I heard voices. I wasn't rushing down the steps and had no plans to go swinging around the corner. As I neared the foyer, though, I heard Tiffany.

“But aren't all baseball players catchers? I mean, aren't they all supposed to catch the ball, so technically they're all catchers?”

I shook my head. She did
not
just ask that. No way.

But when I came around the corner, Mac was looking at her like she was an alien life-form. Maybe she was, because no one could be that ignorant.

Tiffany laughed. “I'm just teasing.”

“That was a good one,” Mac said, but he said it like maybe he thought it was as lame as I did.

Then he looked past her to me. “Hey, Dani.”

“Hi.”

He nodded at Jason, Jason nodded back, a real macho guy kinda greeting.

“I think we should all ride to the concert together,” Tiffany announced.

Mac actually looked embarrassed. “Uh, I have a pickup truck, one front seat.”

“Jason could drive, couldn't you, Jason?” she asked.

I wanted to say no, but I didn't know how to do it without sounding rude, and it looked like Jason didn't know how to, either, so we all ended up in his car.

“No misbehaving back there,” Tiffany said from the passenger seat, with a totally fake-sounding giggle.

For a brief moment, I wondered if she was nervous. It was the kind of sound people make when they're nervous. But no way was she not feeling comfortable. I mean, she was accustomed to being on a stage, strutting her stuff in front of hundreds of people. And she had, like, a million dates, so going out with guys was no big deal for her.

While for me, it was an incredibly big deal.

I was sitting behind Jason, so I could see his eyes in the rearview mirror. He was so serious, like driving down this street took immense concentration.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Tiffany said. “We can all sit together at the concert.”

“We're meeting Bird there,” I told her.

“She can sit with us, too,” Tiffany said, like she was being really generous in making room for my friend.

“Actually, it'll be Bird and Brandon.”

She twisted around slightly. “Who's Brandon?”

“One of the other baseball players in town for the summer.”

“That'll be fun to include him, too. I bet the guys know him.”

Jason and Mac kinda grunted, which I figured was their way of telling her she'd guessed correctly.

“I'll see. Bird may have other plans.” I didn't want to commit Bird to sitting with us if she didn't want to. Besides, I wasn't totally certain I wanted to sit anywhere near Jason. It would
be more than weird after what happened last night. Between trying to forget him and trying to impress Mac, my nerves were definitely on edge. Add Tiffany to the mix, and I could see only disaster on the horizon. I just wasn't certain how many of her silly comments I'd have patience for tonight.

I glanced over at Mac and really wished I hadn't, because his gaze was focused on Tiffany, or as much of her as he could see, considering he was sitting right behind her. Tiffany with her hair all flowing around her, her makeup all perfect, and her shoulders bare because she was wearing a halter top.

My tolerance for silly comments was going to be zero.

When we got to the amphitheater, we did end up all sitting together on the grassy knoll. Brandon, Bird, me, Mac, Tiffany, and Jason. In that order.

The stage was set up at the bottom of a small hill and the seats were carved into the landscape, reinforced with stonework, so it looked like a series of wide steps. People sat on the steps. Except at the very top—which was
where we were—they sat on blankets.

The band was local. The Blue Moon Group. The music had a dark, edgy sound to it. I couldn't really decipher the lyrics, since they were screamed more than sung. It wasn't the type of show I'd expected, but the concert committee had advertised they'd have an assortment of bands, orchestras, and offerings throughout the summer. This group had this whole Goth thing going, with leather and chains.

“This music is so un-Ragland. Do you think the committee thought they were booking Blue
Man
Group?” Bird asked, near my ear, loudly.

There weren't any people sitting near us to be disturbed, and the volume of the music actually had the ground shaking. I wondered if they could cause an earthquake. Not that we were prone to earthquakes. Tornadoes were more our speed.

My answer to Bird's question was just a shrug. I was trying not to feel like a third wheel. Or in this case, a fifth wheel. Honestly, it was like I'd come without a date.

“How does she do that?” Bird asked.

I didn't have to ask who the
she
was. I knew it was Tiffany. Nor did I have to ask what Bird was referring to. Jason and Mac were leaning toward Tiffany, listening to whatever it was she was saying, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Does she wear, like, turn-'em-stupid perfume or something?” Bird asked.

“I don't know. Maybe guys like thinking they're way smarter than girls.”

“It's gotta be an act. No one is that brainless.” She grimaced. “I don't mean to dis your sister, but really, does anyone think the moon actually turns blue?”

Yeah, Tiffany had asked, “So when does the moon turn blue?”

Mac had laughed and explained that a blue moon was the second full moon in a month, that a full moon appeared every twenty-nine nights, and so it was truly rare to have two full moons in any given month. He'd said he'd taken a class in astronomy.

“Oh, I love astronomy. I'm a Pisces. What sign are you?”

Which had made Mac laugh again, and he started to explain the difference between astronomy and astrology. Tiffany was apparently absolutely fascinated…and fascinating. His gaze—and Jason's—was riveted on her.

I gave another little shrug, feeling a need to defend my sister, who might be in need of a trip down the yellow brick road to ask the wizard for some brains. “I wasn't exactly sure what a blue moon was, either.”

“But you know the difference between astronomy and astrology.”

“Let's just enjoy the concert, okay?”

Which would have been a lot easier to do if halfway through it, Bird and Brandon didn't start a kiss fest. Not that I could blame them. Music, crickets chirping, stars coming out as night descended…it was romantic.

Brandon had definitely gotten to first base with Bird, while I hadn't even gotten up to the plate with Mac. I couldn't say the same about Jason. We had gotten to first base, but then it was like the umpire had yelled, “Foul ball!”

Mac touched my shoulder. Finally, I thought, finally we're going to start getting to
know each other. We're going to talk. He's going to be interested in me, and I'll be interested in him.

“Your sister and I are going to the concession stand. Want anything?”

A date? A boyfriend? A guy kissing me?

“No thanks.”

“I'll be right back.”

I watched as he and Tiffany made their way down the slope to the steps. He had his hand resting on the small of her back, supposedly to help keep her balanced so she didn't take a tumble. Part of me thought I should see that as a plus in his favor. A considerate guy. Maybe I'd feel better about it if his hand was on my back.

“Did she just steal your date?” Bird asked, clearly incensed enough to take a break from kissing Brandon.

“They're just going to get something to drink.”

“They better be. Otherwise, I'll short-sheet his bed.”

I felt movement to my right. Jason had slid over, so he was now sharing my blanket. Part
of me wished he hadn't kissed me last night, because before that moment—that incredible moment—we'd become really comfortable around each other, and now we were back to that awkwardness. But part of me, a larger part of me, wished he'd kiss me again.

Even if he had thought it was a mistake. As far as mistakes went, it was one of the best ones I'd ever experienced.

He moved in so our cheeks were almost touching, his mouth near mine, so we could talk without having to shout.

“Interesting band,” he said.

“Understatement of the summer.”

“You know any of the members?”

“Why? Do you want to meet them?”

“Not really. Just making conversation. Thought maybe since they were local…”

“I think maybe they're using aliases. I mean, do you think a mom actually named her kid Vegas?”

He tipped his head toward Bird.

“That's not her real name.”

“So maybe a mom nicknamed her kid Vegas.”

“Maybe. But I think they're using stage names.”

“I would if I were them.”

“You don't like the music?”

He shrugged. “I'm more of a Faith Hill fan.”