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Kissing could be good. I loved kissing her full lips and I loved her soft moans. I could kiss her until she forgets Isaiah. I could kiss her until I forget that I’m a virgin. My grip on her shoulder tightens. She’s killing me. I’m killing myself. “Sandy Koufax was left-handed like you. He was the youngest pitcher inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. ”
“That’s possibly the most screwed-up thing I’ve ever heard you say,” she mumbles.
True, but it keeps my mind off kissing her.
“I’m not the one that talks in code. ”
“You have me there. ”
Beth’s body relaxes and molds into mine.
The silence stretches from seconds to minutes to longer and I wonder if she fell asleep. Part of me wishes I could sleep. Then I wouldn’t fantasize about touching her or kissing her or touching her some more. But then I also want to stay awake. I like this—holding her.
“Ryan?” she whispers.
“Yeah?” I whisper back.
“Can I stay? I set your alarm for four so I’ll be back before Scott misses me. ”
I absently rub my hand up and down her back and she shifts closer to me. “Yeah. ”
Beth nuzzles her head against my chest like a cat curling into a ball for sleep. Her arm presses into me and I let myself cheat for one second when I bunch her hair in my hand and kiss the top of her head. I could tell myself that friends who date do this, but it’s way too late and I’m way too tired for lying.
Beth
THIRTY MINUTES OF observing Ryan squirm on the couch across from Scott was enough to atone for allowing Ryan to drag me to the marathon game at the ballpark. Scott finally let me go with Ryan only after he threatened to kill Ryan if he returned me with any marks on my body.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever admit it to Ryan, but this has been my best Saturday since being sentenced to hell. On the drive into Louisville, Ryan explained baseball. Most of it I knew, but Ryan somehow made it interesting. The sport came alive when he described a game that’s more than a bat and a ball and some bases. He said it involved teamwork and trust.
As I sit on the bleachers and watch the game, I appreciate the gracefulness of his team’s movements. A network of signals and glances and unsaid understandings.
What I really find amazing is Ryan. The raw intensity in the way he moves. The strength of his broad shoulders and the power that explodes from his body when he throws the ball. Ryan is a force all his own. A force that pulls me in. An attraction that curls warmth into my body. He possesses a simple touch that’s strong enough to hold me together yet soft enough to make me shiver.
We’re friends. Just friends. I sigh. Even as a friend, he deserves better than me. He seems hell-bent on liking me. Hell-bent on dating me.
Why? What does he gain by being with a girl that everyone else has thrown away?
Chris pops a ball into left field and the other team catches it for the third out. Ryan stands in the dugout and winks at me before taking the field. My answering smile forms in spite of myself. You’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt, Beth. Like when I set myself up with Luke at fifteen. Luke called me pretty. Luke said all the right words. Then again, Luke never brought me to a place as public as this.
Maybe Scott is right. I have a clean slate.
Maybe I should take advantage of it. Maybe I should enjoy the ride w
hile it lasts. After all, I’ll be leaving with Mom soon. Each day that she remains with Trent is one day closer to her death. Today, after the game, Mom and I will work out a plan to leave, but until then, maybe I should enjoy what’s in front of me.
Ryan likes me or at least he thinks he does.
Why am I in such a rush to move on to the next guy who’ll treat me like Luke did or the way Trent treats Mom?
I can be the girl who shows Ryan a few things. The girl who doesn’t laugh when he blushes. I can be the girl who, in the future, when he’s been married to the good girl and has three babies clinging to his leg, he can remember and smile at the memories. Then
he’ll look at his wife and be grateful I left when I did. Grateful he didn’t end up with me.
“Are you Ryan’s girlfriend?” A tall guy plops next to me on the bleachers and watches as Ryan throws the ball. This dude is close.
Super close. Not touching close, but he has broken the unspoken barrier of how close complete strangers should be to each other.
The skin on my arm prickles. “And you are?”
