Hitting to Win (Over the Fence #2) (9 page)

S
he moves slowly
, wafting through the air like a delicate flower on the breeze. Her presence is everywhere, all around me, making the air smell with her scent, all of the light in the room emanates from her being.  Her long mane of black silk sways as she goes, loose and cascading down her back like a waterfall. She exudes elegance, her slim figure twirling intricately across the shiny wood floor.

Chloe is an angel, sent down by the God's with the sole purpose of dancing. We're in the middle of the Dancing with the Greeks ballroom floor, having just stepped on to perform our dance, and I can't tear my eyes away from her. I think I may have forgotten the entire routine.

But when she gets to me, finally touching my arm, its like she infects me with her energy, and I grab her, taking her body into our first of several lifts in this dance.

We have a freestyle this week, and because our other two dances both encompassed emotions like sex and silliness, Chloe thought it would be a good idea to get emotional for this one. Which of course I'd had a bitch of time at doing. I wasn't even good at acting emotionally in real life, and now she was asking me to pretend? To play a part?

Practice on Saturday had been a mixture of her trying to teach me some ballet acting, loosen me up to really pour my heart into the dance, and me inappropriately touching her and pinning her to the wall while I trailed kisses down her neck.

Chloe runs from me suddenly, her play acting at being in this tumultuous love affair she wants us acting out in this performance. I play along, running as elegantly as I possibly can — which makes me look mostly like a drunk elephant — and throwing my arms around her, cradling her back to me.

She wanted us to dance as if we were playing two people at the end of a relationship. Two people too scared to let go but only hurting each other more by staying. I tried not to look into that too much. I know I told her I couldn't promise her anything, and I was really hoping we could keep this arrangement going. Because I really liked the benefits.

And I actually liked Chloe. Despite my earlier impression of her, she wasn't all that high-maintenance. She was smart and soft-spoken, and she was just overall really nice. The fact that she was sexy as fuck also didn't hurt.

She pushed me back before falling, and I caught her under the arms at the last second, swinging her around before throwing her high into the air, where she twisted around to face me and I caught her by the waist. As I slid her slowly down my body with all the control I could muster, I saw a spark in her eyes. She'd been damn nervous about that lift, balking at least half a dozen times in practice on Saturday. Now that it was over and we'd done it flawlessly, I could see just from her lilac orbs that she was pumped.

We grabbed each other's necks with just one hand each, moving around one and other in close circles. And finally, we stopped, sinking to our knees, hands still pulling on each other's necks, and finished the performance staring into each other's eyes with one lone spotlight trained on us.

Then the room faded to black. And the audience exploded.

"WOW! What a fantastic performance. Let's hear from our judges!" Brooke Sayers came out to join us on the floor, and laid a firm grip to my right bicep, lingering there just a second too long. Ever since I'd left her at the first after-show party. I moved out of her grasp, cradling Chloe to my chest. I placed one hand on her hip, the other hooked gently around her shoulders. I ran my thumb back and forth on her collarbone, and when I felt her butt clench at the caress, all the blood in my body drained into my dick.

Janglit, the sloppy sociology professor, started the talk. "I study social behavior. I observe people and how they interact. While the dance was technically good, I have to say, I wasn't convinced. Chloe, you are as good as they come. You are a prodigy, a star. You can play the part as well, which will take you far. But Miles, I could see through you. You looked like you were acting, instead of embodying the emotions."

Fuck. Merilee and Vittle echo his sentiments. "Do you want to leave her? Do you love her enough to leave her, to let her live a whole and fulfilling life? I just didn't feel it."

We end up with three eights, our lowest scores yet, and I'm pissed. I'm not a fucking actor and I'm not a fucking dancer either. I'm a goddamn ballplayer.

I say this to Chloe when we enter the classroom that serves as our dressing room.

"I know that. But we rehearsed this over and over. I just...is it hard for you to show emotion? I mean, I know you're not the most open person, but that dance, it was heartbreaking. You didn't feel that?

I shrug, not really understanding what she's getting so dramatic about. "Not really..."

"Haven't you ever loved someone? Loved them so much that you can't even imagine..."

I see red. "That I can't imagine what, Chloe? Losing them? Nice."

Her sharp cheekbones colored under the weight of her embarrassment, and her eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Miles. I didn't mean that, I know how-"

"You don't know shit. You have the perfect little family, am I right? A loving mom, a dad who treats you like the spoiled brat that you are.You have no idea what its like to not have one single person on this earth that loves you. To have the only one that ever did get ripped away from you, leaving you with the two shittiest people ever put on this planet. So sorry if it's a little hard to act like I'm hopelessly in love with a girl that I'm only just fucking. I'll try to be more emotional next time."

Chloe looks like I've slapped her. Her skin is ashen, and she looks like she might be sick. It's not until I get a handle on my rage that I realize what I've done.

"Shit, Chloe, no I..."

"Hey, campers! That was so great, I thought the performance—" Minka takes one look at Chloe and rushes to her, taking Chloe's fragile body in her arms. "What the fuck did you do to her!?"

She's screaming, demanding to know what happened, because Chloe's just standing there, frozen, not speaking. Owen puts a hand on my arm, his futile attempt to keep me calm while he questions me.

"Hey man, what happened here? Everything okay?" His gentle tone pisses me off, and I violently shake his fingers off me.

"Don't touch me." I take a step towards Chloe. I had to take those words back, she had to know I didn't really mean them. "Chloe, I'm sorry—"

Minka cuts me off when a tear spills down Chloe's cheek. "Get away from her, Farris. You're a fucking prick, you know that? She deserves so much better than your piece-of-shit self. A boyfriend who actually sees her for the kickass chick that she is."

"Who the hell said I was your boyfriend? We're hooking up, I thought I made that clear." I direct this question at Chloe, who starts to cry harder and shake her head.

"Just go," she finally says, her voice sounding like broken glass.

I look around at the three of them, their eyes filled with varying stages of anger and disappointment. Even Owen's.

This was how people in my life looked at me. Like some kind of damaged joke. I'd better be used to it by now, it's how my father had looked at me my whole life.

I turned and walked swiftly from the dressing room.

"
D
ude
, that dance chick of yours is hot. You smash that?"

Nate Hudson's words float over me, my body a puddle of mush on the Kappa couch. Someone passes another joint in front of my face, too fast for me to intervene and take another hit before someone else is reaching for it. Shit, I'm high as fuck. The room is spinning, but in slow motion.

"Huh?" I say to no one in particular.

"I asked if you fucked that sexy little partner of yours?"

The fury I should feel pulsing through my veins never comes, thanks to my good ole friend Mary Jane. But now I'm ticked that I don't feel furious. This is what I wanted, to mellow out. Right?

"None of your fucking business, Hudson." My tongue feels fuzzy in my mouth.

Nate laughs. "Woah, alright buddy. All I'm saying is she has some nice dick-sucking-lips. I'd like to test them out, that's for sure."

"Watch your fucking mouth." I'd meant for that to come out with a sharp edge, but instead it sounded like I was singing.

Some of the others brother who'd stayed up past the after-party chuckled. It was about 2 a.m., and I'd been glued to this couch, high as a space cadet, for about four hours. Ever since I'd left Chloe in her own pile of tears. I was such a disgusting prick.

"Just win us the Mount Olympus trophy, man, and all is forgiven." Ryan Warry slapped me on the back.

I sat up, suddenly thinking about how I didn't even like any of these guys. Why was I even hanging out with them? I could never remember why I wanted to belong here, when these guys were total pricks half the time. Or all the time.

"I'm going home." I try to get up from the couch, but fall when the floor slips out from under my feet. That sends the guys into a shit-fit of giggles again, and I manage to hunch my body up into a standing position. Staggering for the front door, I burst outside, into the late October air that felt cold to my skin without a jacket on. I swayed down the street, unaware of where I was heading until I was standing on the Zeta steps, pounding on the front door.

"CHLOE!" I knocked louder, not caring that about 50 girls were probably sleeping soundly at this hour. "CHLOE!"

I window screeched open from above, and a girly voice yelled out. "Get out of here, you creep! Before I call the cops!"

"Where's Chloe?" I screamed up into the dark night. I'd probably just about woken the whole house.

The front door wrenched open violently, and there stood Chloe, in her fuzzy pink robe and slippers. Her face was so flushed it almost matched her robe.

"What do you want, Miles?" I looked closer at her when the porch light flicked on, and I could see the red, raw circles around her eyes. She'd been crying.

"I wanted to, uh, I'm sorry, baby." The nickname just popped out of my mouth, surprising me and making her flush another shade of red.

"Baby? Give me a break, Farris. You made it clear I am absolutely nothing to you. Go home."

She'd called me by my nickname, instead of my real name. Like it wasn't even worth addressing me. I could feel myself starting to break. "Please, just let me explain..."

I feel the hot tears popping out of my corneas, and I was too high to stop them. Chloe looks alarmed at how emotional I'm getting.

"What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?"

"This is what you wanted right? For me to get emotional. Well, here I am. I'm a fucking mess, Chloe. My life is a fucking mess. But you, you make me feel like something could actually be okay."

Her features filled with pity. "Miles, I'm sorry that your life isn't what you want it to be right now. But only you have the power to change that. And I can't wait around, being your punching bag, until you figure it out. I'll see you at practices, and we can even be friendly when we see each other out. But this," she points back and forth between us, "Whatever this was, it’s over now. Minka's right, I deserve to be treated better. All of these years, I thought you were this amazing, unattainable guy. I didn't realize that maybe it was because you are such a mean person. I'm one to talk, being the doormat for everyone else to lay on, but I'm standing up this time."

She blows out a breath, and I swear it hits me straight in the chest and almost bowls me over. "Go home, Farris. And try and do so safely."

She backed up quietly, turning to find the door handle and close herself into the dark, silent mansion.

I stumbled backwards down the steps, the high I was working with quickly fading. My skin felt prickly and uncomfortable, like Chloe has just stuck me with a thousand needles that were still lodged deep into my skin.

Somehow, about twenty minutes later, I'd let myself into our ramshackle house, tripping down the hallway and landing face first on my bed.

As I laid there, fully clothed and drifting off into a restless sleep, one thought passed through my mind.

I had to fix this. All of it.

R
ushing
through the blustery wind whipping through the campus quad, I shielded my face from the unexpectedly chilly November air. Apparently Mother Nature detected Thanksgiving Break was only a week away, and she'd decided to put an even bigger damper on the last week of classes. As if they weren't going slow enough, now it was unbearable to walk outside to your next class.

Not that I was complaining about class. I was excited for all of the new courses I'd be taking next semester. Even my Pas de Deux class, where we'd be dancing with partners. I'd nearly overcome my fear, and I wasn't bitter that Miles was the reason.

I really didn't have any bitterness towards Miles. I had sadness, sympathy and heartbreak, but not bitterness. Not anger. I couldn't give in to those emotions, because as I'd learned all too well from Minka's experiences, that made you hollow. It made you linger in that negative space, and I was all about the positive. So I'd had my good four days of crying, and then I'd picked myself up, dusted myself off, and got on with life.

I'd spent eleven years trying to win Miles over, and only after I sort of had, did I realize just how much I didn't want what he had to offer me. The past month had been strained, but not horrible, when we were forced to see each other. I came to our Saturday rehearsals with choreography already mapped out, racing through to have him learn the steps and perform it together so that we'd spend as little time as possible together. Dancing With the Greeks performances were easy, I had the natural ballet theatrics down pat, and could pull my acting hat out at the drop of a dime. We'd even made it all the way through to the finals tomorrow night.

I pulled my scarf tighter across my mouth and nose, trying to shield them from being frozen off in this wind. I ran for my life, grabbing the doors of Grover Grub and catapulting myself in like a hit-man was chasing me. Spotting Owen and Minka at a table across the café, I scurried toward them.

"Come on, Minks, just at least say you'll think about it!" Owen's stroking his girlfriend's curly tresses as he whines at her.

"Owen! I am a freshman. Just adjusting to this college life. Not to mention my dad would blow your balls off with his Glock."

"Did you seriously just say Glock?" He smiles, that devastating, I-know-Minka-will-give-in smile.

"What're you guys talking about?" I interrupt as I throw my bag into a chair across from them, unbuttoning my olive-green fall jacket. They would be sitting on the same side of the table. hopelessly in-love

"I want Minka to move in with me, and she's being stubborn." Owen says this as if it's totally normal for his freshman girlfriend to leave her dorm and get an apartment with him.

"Um...I don't know Axel. I think she may have a point."

"Oh come on, Bucs. anyway She hates everyone, except for us of course. Get her to move in with me!"

He had a point. Minka couldn't stand most people, her roommate included. The girl had sexiled her too many times for Minka's liking. So the last time, she'd waltzed right in and poured a cup of water all over her bunkmate and the no-so-lucky guy. I had to smile just thinking about it.

"It’s up to her, but it might work. Only if you don't annoy her too much though, Owen. Our girl can be prickly."

"Um, hello? Assholes. I am right here." Minka folded her arms and scowled. Owen wrapped her in his big arms and planted kisses all over her face. My life was sad. "I'll think about it, though."

"Yes!" Owen gave a victory pump in the air, and then spoke to someone behind me. "Hey, Bryant, what's up?"

I turned in my chair to see Steven hovering over our table, his big, wiry body jammed into the space due to the lunchtime crowd.

"Hey guys. Hi, Chlo. How was your day?"

I smiled up at his handsome face, his thick chestnut hair cropped high and tight in a fade. His brown eyes twinkled down at me, the dimple in his jaw widening when he smiled.

"It was okay, too cold for me though! How was your's?" I ask politely.

Steven was nice, easy. We'd been on three dates in the past two and a half weeks. He'd taken me to the movies, bowling, and then just out to dinner. And they'd gone well. As well as dates could go. As well as dates could go when you felt absolutely nothing for the guy. Steven was great, polite, sexy, and only hinted once or twice at how bad he wanted to get physical with me. But for some reason I just couldn't do it. Every time I went in for a kiss, I was picturing his eyes. One green, one blue.

"It was great. So listen, I thought maybe I could take you out Thursday, before we leave?"

I should say no. Because I already knew I wasn't interested in him. But this was part of moving on. Meeting different guys, experiencing different things. I needed to keep driving forward. I needed to forget Miles Farriston had ever caught my eye.

"Sure. That sounds great. Why don't I text you about what we could do?"

"Sounds great, Chlo! Alright, I'll talk to you." With that, he turns and strides away from the table with a beaming smile on his face.

"He sure looked happy." Owen rolls his eyes and grunts when Minka elbows him in the ribs. "What? I just know she's not interested."

"Let her do what she wants." Minka's tone could cut diamonds. They'd clearly argued about this before.

"Whatever. Bucs, would you be willing to do me a favor?" Minks elbows him again, causing him to tickle her mercilessly until she hits him hard in the stomach.

"I told you not to ask her!"

"Well, he needs help! So shush!" Turning back to me, Owen smiles. "Anyway, I don't know if you know, but Miles is undergoing some...life changes. And he needs to find some work, especially over winter break. He needs to work his ass off. And since he's never had a job, well, not many people are going to hire a Farriston to wait tables at their restaurant in Mitchum. Which is why I though maybe you'd put in a word at your family's place?"

Owen looks like a hopeful puppy, and I know now why Minka can't usually say no to him. Miles is making life changes? What did that mean? And why did he need money? Of course I wouldn't let myself ask these questions, I didn't care.

“Why can’t he just work for his family or something?” Whoops.

“That’s…not a possibility right now. If he wants to tell you what’s going on, then that’s up to him. But right now, he needs a job. I thought maybe you’d be able to help him.”

“And why would I help him?” Tamp down on the bitterness, Chloe. Don’t let it swallow you.

“Because you’re the nicest person I know, and it’s the right thing to do.” Owen smiles, and just like that I feel horrible for even arguing with him in the first place.

“Okay…I’ll mention it to my papa next week. But I can’t guarantee anything, they usually have a rigorous process for choosing their wait staff.”

“Thank you.” Owen nods, and Minka looks at me with such appreciation in her eyes. “And Chloe…don’t give up on him just yet.”