Game On (27 page)

That actually sounds kind of awesome.

But I couldn't do that. Me being a coach, or even a
teacher
, for Christ's sake, is as crazy as my being a Religious Studies major.

Right?

The
bus pulls into the gravel lot at Beaufort's field, which is already packed full of locals and those who've made the trip from Lewis Creek. And now school's got to take a backseat. I shove my phone into my bag as the bus rumbles to a stop.

Blake slaps my shoulder from the seat behind us. “Dare: If we win today, we dance our asses off.”

If
we win is the condition here. The Bulldogs haven't won at Beaufort in nearly twenty years. “On the field?” I ask.

“On the mother-effin' field.”

“Dude, if we break the curse, I'll do the freakin' Cha-Cha Slide off the mound.”

“Shake on it.”

I slap his hand in a shake over the seat. Coach Taylor clears his throat from the front of the bus. He stands before us, hands on his hips while everyone quiets down. See, when I think “coach,” I think of him. I think of someone who's got their shit together. Someone whose presence itself demands attention. Definitely not someone like me.

“Beaufort, Beaufort, Beaufort.” He glances over his shoulder, looking out the windshield before turning back to us. “We need some damn good defense today, fellas. Even better offense. Can't win a game if you don't actually hit the ball.”

His gaze passes over each of us. As soon as it lands on me, my stomach tightens. If we walk onto that field knowing that we can't win, we're shot to hell from the get-go.

“A lot of people out there have already written us off, gentlemen,” he continues. “But there are still a few people who believe you can pull this off. I'm one of 'em.” He tilts his head toward the door. “Let's go play some ball.”

I
take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. Grabbing my bag, I follow Kellen off the bus and hop off the bottom step.

“Perry.” Coach, who's standing off to the side, waves me over. The rest of the guys file off the bus as I head toward him, my cleats crunching over the gravel. “You're distracted,” he says as soon as I reach him.

My eyebrows scrunch. “I'm not—”

“Don't BS me. Your eyes are dartin' all over the place. Talk it out.”

Coach freakin' Taylor. Nothing gets past him. I tighten my grip on my bag's strap. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it about baseball?”

Technically. “What are the chances of walking on at Winthrop?”

He narrows his eyes. Stares at me long and hard, like he's trying to decide if I'm serious. Which I am. I think. Maybe.

“You considering Winthrop?”

“I am considering Winthrop.” I pause. “Why, is that bad?”

“For what?”

“Teaching.” I have no idea how he makes answers slip out so easily, but he's a grandmaster. “PE teaching. Maybe coaching. Unless you think that's stupid, and then—”

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. “Not at all. I think that if you work your butt off, you can do anything you set your mind to. That includes walking on, teaching, and coaching—I think you'd do a damn good job at all of them.” He slaps my back. “It also includes winning this game. So let's go.”

If only it were as easy as he makes it sound.

~

By the bottom of the seventh, we're in the exact same position we were at the same time last year: up 4-3. And then fate stepped in and snatched the win away from us.

Fate can be a heartless bastard.

Standing at the dugout's opening, I scan the crowd before we take the field. Baseball's not nearly as huge here as it is in Lewis Creek, but their turnout's decent enough. Of course, half the bleachers are full of people who actually drove here from Lewis Creek.

Coach squeezes my shoulder. “You got one more in you?”

I nod. “I've always got one more.” I flash him a grin, which he returns with one of his own before urging me toward the field.

I jog out to the mound, lifting my chin to Kellen as he takes his place at first. Keeping my eyes trained on the dirt, I take a deep breath, and another, and another. Three up, three down. That's all it'll take.

That's all it would've taken last year, too. And we saw how well
that
worked out.

The ump's “Play ball!” snaps me to attention. Blake gets into position as the batter takes his place, squaring over the plate.

Three up. Three down. Baseball gods, don't fail me now.

Blake signals for a fastball, which is as good of a start as any. I wind up and let it fly.

Smack.

Son of a bastard.

The ball soars over my head. I whirl around just in time to watch it sink in center field. Matt sprints forward, diving to the ground, glove outstretched. The ball falls right into the leather.

I
hate the guy, but he's a damn good ballplayer.

He throws the ball back to me as the visitors cheer from the stands. Now, two more. Preferably without any more close calls.

The next batter moves to the plate, the confidence in his stance overflowing all the way to the mound. His home run in the second inning is the reason they're only down by one. So no more home runs, please and thank you.

Deep breath. Tunnel vision.

Blake calls for a curveball. Sure thing.

Smack.

What the actual hell.

The ball shoots past me toward first. I hear the ball connect with skin and bone before I realize Kellen just bare-handed a freakin' line-drive. I cringe right along with him. He shakes his hand, no doubt trying to get feeling back before tossing the ball to me.

“You all right, man?” I call, catching the ball.

He grins like an idiot. “Keep the ball rollin', Perry. One more.”

One more
. Just one more. My heart slams against my chest as I catch sight of—hopefully—the final batter.

And now my heart's in my throat. And I can't breathe. I kind of need to breathe.

I glance over to Coach, who's standing by the dugout. Using two fingers, he points to his eyes.

Tunnel vision.
Me and Blake. That's all I need to focus on. That's all that matters right now.

So I wait for the signal: fastball. Wind up. Let it go.

Swing.

“Strike one!” the ump yells.

Time for a changeup? Sure enough, Blake signals changeup. Focusing on his glove and his glove alone, I let the ball fly.

Clink.

A pitiful hit off the end of the bat, but one that comes right for me. It hits the ground and bounces straight into my waiting glove. Trotting toward first, I toss it to Kellen effortlessly. And its smack against his glove is the sweetest sound of ball hitting leather that I've ever heard.

My heart slows to a stop while my feet do the same. My mouth drops open as Kellen returns the ball. Takes a bow. Comes up flashing a full-blown grin.

Holy shit. We freakin' did it.

Out of nowhere, Blake's hopping on my back and the guys pour in from all over, yelling and slapping and cheering. It builds in my gut and all the way through my chest before I yell with the rest of them, sweat pouring down my face. For nearly twenty years, every Lewis Creek player has dreamed about this moment. And we're
here.

Blake made me shake on Cha-Cha Sliding off the mound, but that'd be disrespectful as hell to Beaufort. With sweat now soaking through every part of my uniform, I fall into the post-game lineup. The Beaufort players don't even spare me a glance.

Whatever.
Thank you, baseball gods.

After grabbing our gear, we file off the field, walking right past the visitors' section. Half the booster club made the trip, and Mr. Joyner's “I knew you had it in you!” is louder than the entire crowd combined. He's full of crap, but thanks to the adrenaline surging through my veins, I grin and call a “thank you, sir” to him anyway.

As
soon as we reach the parking lot, a hand lands on my shoulder. Coach Taylor squeezes it, staring straight into my eyes as he says, “I knew you had it in you.” And I can tell that he means every word.

My cheeks heat as I nod once, still trying to catch my breath. “Thank you, sir.”

We file onto the bus, energy buzzing and taking up more space than we do. I collapse back against my seat, and there's no wiping the stupid-ass smile from my face. The only hint of a problem: I wish the guys from last year could've been here to see it.

I fish my phone from my bag as the bus lurches into gear, and shoot off a text to Brett.

Me:
THE CURSE IS BROKEN.

Barely a minute passes before his reply comes in.
IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME.
And then, seconds later:
Congrats, man. Knew you could do it.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Eric

When I walk into the cafeteria on the Friday before Spring Break, the room's buzzing. Every freakin' guy I pass holds his hand out for a high-five. The girls smile their sweetest smiles. The lunch lady lets me pass with a plateful of free chili-cheese fries. All of which can only mean one thing:

The Bulldogs are alive and kickin'. Which means people like me again. And it's faker than a porn star's boobs, but whatever. I'm taking it where I can get it.

I slide onto the bench at my table, across from Kellen and Jasmine. She smiles at me, which I return with one of my own. Kellen flashes a wink. That hookup took all of five minutes. Though I have to say, I'm starting to think that soccer girls may be the best in the world.

Blake's tray clatters beside mine as he slips in next to me. “You know what y'all need?” he says. “A party.”

Kellen leans forward. “I can't wait to hear this. Why do we need a party?”

“Because we've been tearin' it up on the field—we've won all but one game this season, for Christ's sake—and y'all aren't reaping any of the benefits.” Blake slaps my shoulder. “By some grace of heaven above, you're actually winning games—”

I narrow my eyes. “Thanks. No, really, thanks.”

He nods toward Kellen. “And your batting average blows all of ours out of the water,” he finishes. “Y'all need the two Bs: Booze and Bonfire.” He points at Jasmine. “You come, too. Bring your friends, while you're at it. Especially your red-headed goalie friends.”

Jasmine
raises her eyebrows. “Trust me. I won't have to do much convincing.”

Honestly? A party sounds freakin' amazing. It's been one hell of a dry spell since I've been to one. I bite into a fry. “You're forgetting one thing,” I tell him. “I'm not grounded anymore, but I'm still not allowed to party.”

“Correction: you're not allowed to party with the Bro-Country Squad—”

“Never say that again.”

“Plus it's tonight,” he continues. “At my place. Your parents didn't ban you from my place. Think of it as a Spring Break sendoff.”

“But I'm not going anywhere for Spring Break.”

“You're ruining my proposal here.”

“Think about it, Perry,” Kellen says. “You go, you can take Bri.”

I blink. And this is why Kellen's the smart one. If we go tonight, add in some music and maybe a little liquid courage…

“Then you'll have three Bs instead of two,” Blake says. “Even more reason to go.”

I look over at him. “Dude. Stop talking.”

“Hey, Bri!” Jasmine says brightly.

Bri slides into the seat beside me, while Becca takes the empty spot next to Blake. Or, more like takes the empty spot in Blake's lap. Either way.

“Hey.” Bri's eyebrows scrunch together. “Why're you looking at me like that? Am I not allowed to sit here?”

I shake my head. “No, it's just that I'm not used to you sitting here. Because you've never sat here. Ever.”

Pursing
her lips, she nods toward Becca. “She wanted to…” She trails off as Becca giggles, whispering something into Blake's ear. “Talk,” she finishes. “Though I think their talking is gonna carry over into the supply closet after lunch.”

I nudge Blake. “Dude. Save room for Jesus. I'm eatin' here.”

“Divine intervention,” Kellen whispers loudly. “Go with it.”

Bri looks at him, and back to me. “Did I miss something?”

Kellen may be full of it. Or he may be on to something. Leaning in, I tell Bri, “Blake's having a party tonight.”

“And?”

If this is divine intervention, Bri's not listening to the angels' call very well. “And he invited us.”

“Us, as in—?”

“All of y'all,” Blake cuts in. “I mean, I know you don't want to be seen with a bunch of juniors, but if you
do
want to actually get out of your houses instead of being holed up—”

Closing my eyes, I hold up a hand, signaling for him to shut up. “So do you want to go?” I ask Bri.

“With you?”

“With me.”

She flushes and glances at the others, who are no doubt gawking at us. “I thought we were friends,” she whispers.

I shrug. “Friends party together all the time.”

“So now we'll be friends who not only sleep together, but party together?”

Kellen
snorts while Blake bursts out laughing. My shoulders shake as I try to hold in my own laugh. I like the way she thinks. “You nailed it.”

Her smile grows, more and more confident by the second. She inches closer, until her thigh brushes mine. “I don't know. Will I have time to go home and shower after practice?”

And now, for the rest of the day, all I'll be able to think about is her in the shower. That's just cruel. Leaning in, I tell her, “I mean, sure, if you want. But do you know what saves time and conserves water?”