The Boyfriend League (11 page)

“Yeah, I'd rather listen to Green Day.”

He nodded.

I didn't know what to say, where to take the conversation from there, so I said something that probably was really none of my business. “You didn't want anything from the concession stand?”

“Three's a crowd.”

I nodded in sympathy and understanding. “Yeah, Mac and Tiffany really seemed to hit it off.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I've been a little surprised to see his attention…wander.”

“That's a nice way to put it.”

“It's hard being in a town where you know so few people. Think he's just trying to make friends. We all are.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yeah. We're not staying, Dani. We're here
for a couple of months, playing ball, having some kicks where we can.”

“And last night.”

“Was a mistake. I told you that.”

But I think I was hoping, after sleeping on it, he might have changed his mind.

“Looks like Brandon's heading toward second base with your friend,” he said, in one of his now familiar let's-change-the-subject-tactics.

Heavy petting. Bird and I had researched the dating definitions on the Internet, because we figured baseball players would talk in baseball terms when dating, and we certainly didn't want to give a guy the impression he was going to hit a home run with us if he wasn't.

“Bird really likes him,” I said.

“He's a good guy.”

“I don't mean to question your judgment, but you said Mac was a good guy, too, but I'm not seeing that.”

“Give him a chance.”

I wondered if Mac was going to give Tiffany a chance, if I was the favorite only when beautiful Tiffany wasn't around.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked after a few minutes.

“Sure.”

“I've always wondered…what exactly
do
a catcher and pitcher discuss at the mound?”

He studied me for a second, before finally saying, “Last night we talked about you.”

I
was stunned.

“You talked about me? Was this before or after I talked to you in the dugout?”

“Before.”

“What? Why? What was there to say?”

“Okay, you two, make room for us,” Tiffany said, returning from the concession stand, handing Jason a bottled water and nudging him back over to the blanket they were sharing.

What could they have possibly been saying about me?

Mac sat beside me. “I know you said you didn't want anything, but since I was down there…”

“Thanks.” Forcing myself to smile, to not
start grilling him about the conversation at the mound, I took the bottle of water he offered.

He leaned toward me. “Your sister's funny.”

“Oh, yeah, she's a regular Rita Rudner.”

“She said she's never been to a baseball game. That's un-American.”

He sounded genuinely appalled.

“She keeps busy with other things.”

“So she was saying. Man, I had no idea that beauty queens worked so hard.”

“She's not really a queen.”

“She wears a crown.”

“Technically, I think it's a tiara.”

“So what is she, a princess?”

She did have a T-shirt with silver rhinestones on it spelling out PRINCESS.

“I suppose.” Ready to move on.

He took my hand. Actually took my hand. I waited for the spark I felt every time Jason touched me, but nothing happened. I mean, Mac had a nice hand. Warm. A little rough on the surface. I liked holding his hand. It almost made me forget about the feel of Jason's.

Mac grinned. “Okay, we've covered the
free and the cheap. What else is there to do in this town?”

For the remainder of the concert, his attention was on me. We talked about a lot of things. His major—business. His kid sister—he was planning to go home the next weekend because it was her birthday. His divorced parents—he hated being a statistic. His dream to play in the majors—for his hometown Astros.

“You know the worst part about a date?” he finally asked.

“Realizing it was a mistake?”

He laughed, then sobered. “Is that what you think this one is?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” But I couldn't help but wonder if maybe he did.

“Good. Anyway, the worst part? Worrying about the good-night kiss. Puts a lot of pressure on a guy…building up to that moment. Who needs it? You know?”

I didn't know what to say. I was a little disappointed. First official date. No kiss. “I never thought about it like that.”

“But I have a solution, to eliminate the pressure.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Let's just get it over with.”

And he kissed me.

It was my first public, in front of a thousand people—so, okay, maybe there were only two hundred at the concert—kiss. It had grown dark, and I really, really hoped Jason wasn't able to see this, that he wasn't on the other side of Tiffany saying, “Looks like Mac is heading to first base with your sister.”

Last night, he and I were kissing, and now I felt self-conscious that less than twenty-four hours later I was kissing someone else. Kissing someone else who was attempting to “get it over with.”

Not exactly a move I'd score a ten on the romantic scale.

Even though the kiss itself was worthy of a ten. Well, maybe an eight, because all kinds of doubts kept flashing through my mind. Did he
want
to be pressing his mouth to mine? Was this an obligation kiss? Or was he just nervous, worrying about the end of the date?

And what was Tiffany thinking? It was a toss-up as to which was worse: kissing in front
of her or kissing in front of Jason.

Mac drew back. Even in the darkness, I could see the white of his grin. “No more pressure.”

He took my hand and leaned forward as though he wanted to listen more intently to the concert. Unfortunately, it gave me a clear view of Jason who was, yep, looking in my direction.

I felt a need to apologize, which was silly. Mac was my date. He might even be more. He could be rounding first base to become my boyfriend.

 

It was a little after eleven when we got home. Tiffany and Jason went into the house, leaving me alone on the porch with my date.

“I had a good time,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“Maybe we can do it again.”

“I'd like that.”

“You know, I'm sorta regretting we went ahead and got the kiss over with. Ruined having anything to look forward to at the end of the date.”

I grinned. “Yeah, that is a downside.”

“Good night, then, with no good-night kiss.”

“Good night.”

He took a step off the porch. Turned back to me. “Can't do it,” he said, and gave me another kiss. Then grinning broadly, like he was pleased with himself, he left.

When I walked inside, Mom was waiting in the foyer and said, “How was the concert?”

“Loud.”

Tiffany and Jason were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed they'd headed on upstairs.

“Tiffany said it was fun.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Like what?”

I shrugged. That she'd watched me playing a game of tonsil hockey? “That it was loud?”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Don't suppose you replaced that missing carton of ice cream I left you a note about.”

“Your dad did.”

“Great.”

I pulled the pint of chocolate chip cookie
dough ice cream out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and went upstairs. I was going to go to my room, but I noticed light flickering in the game room. The TV was on, the lights out, the French doors closed.

I peered through one of the panes and could see Jason sitting on the reclining love seat, his back to me, because the love seat was in the middle of the room, right in front of the TV.

I debated with myself: go to my room, join Jason in the game room.

I pushed on the door, and it made an audible click that could be heard even with the TV on. Jason glanced back over his shoulder.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“Hey, it's your house, your TV, your TiVo.”

Grinning, I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. “Actually, everything you just named technically belongs to my parents.”

I sat on the love seat, curled my feet beneath me, took the lid off the carton of ice cream, set it on the small glass-topped table beside me, and spooned out a bit with a nice
ball of cookie dough in it.

I ate the ice cream and pointed my empty spoon toward the TV. “So you're a fan of
House
?”

He hit the TiVo's pause button just as a patient flat-lined. “I've only watched a few episodes. Not sure I'd want this guy to be my doctor.”

I laughed. “I hear you. He seems to have a lot of wrong diagnoses. Dad actually has this irritating habit of hitting the button to see how much time is left whenever they come up with a diagnosis. If there's too much time left, he'll go, ‘That's not it.' I'm not even sure why we like the show. It's not like the symptoms mean anything to us and we can figure out what's wrong with the patients.”

“I think people like that House says out loud the things we all wish we could say.”

And I wondered if he had things he wanted to say.

“Can I be honest?” I asked.

“Sure, but I already know what you're going to say. You like that guy who plays Chase.”

I grinned, deciding not to admit it had been
weird kissing Mac in front of him. “When he talks, sure. I have a soft spot for accents.
TV Guide
named him one of the sexiest guys on TV, and if
TV Guide
says it, you know it's true. I'll bet you like Cameron.”

He grinned back at me. “Cuddy.”

“Ah. I think she's my dad's favorite, too, but don't tell Mom.” I spooned out another bit of ice cream. “Sure you don't want any?”

He shrugged and leaned toward me. “Okay, I'll take some.”

Which I'd so not expected, and which had me wondering what I was supposed to do now. Stick my spoon in his mouth?

I felt a cold drip on the hand holding the carton and realized my spoon was suspended and the ice cream was starting to melt. I extended it toward him, watched as his mouth closed around my spoon. Now what? I was so not used to feeding guys.

He wrapped his hand around my wrist and guided my hand back. I watched appreciation glide over his face like hot fudge over a banana split.

“It tastes like you,” he said.

The heat rushed into my face. “Uh, yeah, my lip balm…same flavor.”

“I think it just became my favorite ice cream.”

Ookaay. So was that an endorsement of my kiss?

“You say that like you'd never tried it before.”

“I hadn't.”

I stared at him. “It's one of their most famous. How could you not try it?”

“I'm not into trends. Just because someone else is doing it, doesn't mean I want to.”

I glanced down at the ice cream melting in the carton. I remembered
his
taste—root beer. And Mac's? I really couldn't say.

It was rare when I didn't delve into ice cream with gusto. “Earlier you said you and Mac had talked about me. What exactly?”

“Just usual guy stuff.”

“Like what?”

“How much he likes you.”

My insecurities were circling. “Did he like me before Dave and Bubba's, before Tiffany put me through the extreme makeover?”

“Why wouldn't he?”

He sounded completely baffled, like maybe I'd just asked a Tiffany-style question.

“Okay, look, earlier, when I mentioned being honest, I just wanted to say that it was weird kissing Mac in front of you, because I don't kiss guys in front of people. So, anyway, I just wanted you to know that.”

“Consider it known.”

“Okay then.”

I got up. “Do you want me to leave this with you?”

“Sure you don't mind?”

“Nah.” I handed him the carton and spoon. “Enjoy.”

My offer wasn't totally generous. I took perverse pleasure at the thought he'd think about me with each bite.

I wondered if maybe he might have been my date tonight if he wasn't living in my house.

Would it be rude to ask him to move out?

I
t was official. I had a boyfriend.

Not that Mac or I used the BF/GF designation when referring to each other, but it was pretty obvious. We hung out together after practice and after the games. And we were doing a whole lot of kissing.

It was also obvious that whatever bad luck I'd brought the team had dissipated. We won three games in a row. The final game, against the Denton Outlaws, was a shutout. Jason pitched his best game ever.

I never saw him at Bird's parties, but then he'd been scarce lately. We still did our morning exercise routine. During one session, we'd brainstormed an idea I had for my column—the joys and trials of hosting a player and being
hosted by a family you didn't know, adjusting to their routines. We'd tossed back and forth some of the different challenges. I was hoping to have an opportunity to actually interview him in more depth, as research for the article.

But like I said, he wasn't around much.

I found myself thinking about that recent development as I checked my e-mail Thursday morning.

One of the e-mails that popped up was marked with the subject “Appreciation Splash!” and was from [email protected]. Beginning Sunday, the team had three days with no games. The team owners—yes, they actually had owners—had decided to thank the families for providing homes for the team players by having an appreciation day at The Splash Zone, one of the area water parks. Tickets were heavily discounted and a pavilion had been reserved for our use.

Of course, Bird called me about ten seconds after the e-mail hit my inbox to confirm that she and Brandon were definitely up for going. Did I think Mac and I would go?

“Actually, this is the weekend he's going
home for his sister's birthday,” I told her.

“Oh, right,” Bird said. “I forgot he'd mentioned that to my parents. So you want to go with us?”

“Probably not.”

“Come on, Dani. We can still have fun. It's a family appreciation thing. You should be there. After all, you're the whole reason we're involved. Jason'll probably invite you anyway.”

Would he? I wasn't so sure.

“But if he doesn't, you can go with us. Okay?”

“We'll see.”

I left it at that, because now that I was used to being part of a pair, I didn't know if I really wanted to be a third wheel again.

A knock sounded on my door.

Okay, Mom and Dad were at work, so it wasn't them. And Tiffany didn't knock. She felt like walking into rooms was her right.

I set the phone on the nightstand, walked to the door, and opened it.

Jason was standing there, one hand in the back pocket of his jeans. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

The awkwardness between us was back. It came and went, with no obvious rhyme or reason.

Suddenly his eyes widened as he looked behind me. “Whoa! When you said you loved baseball”—he looked at me with new appreciation in his eyes—“you really do.”

“I really do.”

“It's like a museum.”

“I prefer to think of it as a living scrapbook.”

He pointed to the wall decorated with caps and pennants. “You collect caps?”

“Actually, I get the team caps every time Dad and I go to a game.”

“You've seen all those teams play, in person?” He sounded completely awed.

I couldn't help but grin. “Yeah. You want to look at them? Come on in.”

I watched as he slowly walked around my room, looking at all my displayed memorabilia. He stopped in front of a large framed collage of photos of Dad and me in front of various ballparks—Wrigley Field, Yankee Stadium, Fenway Park, Tiger Stadium, to name a few.

“You've actually watched games at these ballparks?” he asked.

“Yeah. Dad and I take a trip to a different ballpark each year. It's his dream to visit every one, and it's no fun to go alone.”

“Some of these don't even exist anymore.”

“Yeah, I know. But I once sat in their seats. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

He turned and looked at me. “The posters and pictures in my room, those are yours, aren't they?”

“On loan to the guest room while you're here. I thought you'd enjoy them.”

“Immensely. Thanks. And speaking of thanks. The team is showing its appreciation to the host families by taking them to a water park on Sunday. I know Mac is going out of town, but I thought you might still want to go. I mean, not as a date or anything. I'm going to invite the whole family.”

“You don't have to work Sunday?”

“I got scheduled off.”

“Sounds like fun. We could pack a picnic lunch—”

“I'll take care of that. As
my
thank you. All you have to do is bring yourself.”

“And a bathing suit.”

He grinned. “Yeah, and a bathing suit.”

“And a towel. And suntan lotion…”

“Maybe it'd be simpler if I just said I'll take care of the tickets and eats.”

“Okay, but I'll go ahead and warn you not to take it personally that Mom and Dad aren't really into water parks. It's that whole not-using-the-exercise-equipment-as-intended thing Dad has going.”

His grin grew. “I won't take it personally.”

“Okay, then, Sunday.”

As though suddenly realizing how intimate it seemed to be in my bedroom, he cleared his throat and took a step back.

He gave my room one more look and took another step back. “It's amazing what a room can reveal.”

Then he walked down the hallway and knocked on Tiffany's door.

I wondered what he'd discover looking into her room.

 

Sunday afternoon Tiffany called shotgun and sat in the front seat with Jason.

When we got to the water park, Jason handed each of us a ticket and it occurred to me—since there was a dollar amount on it—that he might have paid for them.

“Do we owe you money for these?” I asked.

“Course not. It's my treat,” he said as he lifted a cooler he'd borrowed from Dad out of the trunk.

“But you shouldn't have to pay for everything.”

He looked at me like I'd suddenly turned into Tiffany. “But it's appreciation day. Of course I should pay for things.”

“But—”

“Can we please go?” Tiffany asked. “It's really hot out here in the parking lot.”

Like she didn't think it would be hot in the cemented water park.

As we trudged to the entrance, I decided I'd find a way to even out the whole paying-for-our-ticket situation. I'd go to Ruby Tuesday, sit at a table Jason was waiting on, and leave a really large tip. It wasn't fair for a starving
baseball player to pay our way. Not that he was actually starving, but still.

A thousand people were lined up to get into the park, but apparently groups used a special entrance, and we had special tickets, so it didn't take us long to get inside. The team owners had provided a map of the water park, with the reserved pavilion clearly marked.

It was right in front of the wave pool, a pool that created gigantic waves for a while before settling into calmness. Right then it was in its calm stage. Several picnic tables were inside the pavilion. I wasn't surprised to see Bird waving from the table she'd claimed for us. Jason carried the cooler to the table.

“Hey, guys,” Bird said while applying sunscreen to her legs.

I'd applied plenty before I left the house, wanting to give it time to soak in.

“Thought we'd head to the Bubba Tub first, while we're all together,” she said.

“Not me,” Tiffany said. “I don't actually do the water. I'm just going to lay out by the pool.” She took her towel out of her beach bag. “See you later.”

Bird had lowered her sunglasses, so she had a clearer view of Tiffany walking away. “She comes to a water park but doesn't actually
do
the water? What's up with that?”

“Don't try to figure her out,” I said. “There is no Tiffany Code.”

“That would make an interesting movie,” she said. Then shook her head. “No, I guess it wouldn't. So? Bubba Tub? It's a four-person ride.”

Okay, this was more than awkward, because since only four of us were standing by the table, it sounded like her invitation was for everyone, which included Jason, and yet I now had a boyfriend, but I sure didn't want to do the rides alone…

“I'm good with that,” Jason said. Nothing suggestive in his tone. Nothing possessive. Nothing other than
let's just have a great time.

“Yeah, sure, let's do it,” I said.

I slipped off my flip-flops and removed the T-shirt I'd been wearing over my white bandeau bikini. And yes, for a second there, I thought I had the attention of both guys, but it
was hard to be sure since they were wearing sunglasses.

Brandon cleared his throat and held up his wrist. A key was dangling from a corded bracelet. “I rented a locker over here if anyone wants to put away their valuables.”

“Yeah, let me put my wallet and keys in there,” Jason said.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.

The guys walked off together to see to manly things.

“It's a shame Mac went home this weekend,” Bird said, putting the cap on her suntan lotion and dropping it in her tote bag.

“Yeah,” I said, trying hard to miss him. Should I have to try? “But it was nice of him to want to be with his sister.”

“Definitely. He's a nice guy. So you really like him, huh?”

“Sure.”

Bird looked at me over her sunglasses, exactly as she'd looked at Tiffany. It made me squirm and want to explain.

“We just do a lot of kissing and not much else.”

“You mean like, you're not heading to second base.”

“No, I mean, we don't really talk about anything. We don't share interests. It's hard to explain. It's just, I'm not as happy as I thought I'd be once I got a boyfriend.”

“So maybe you have the wrong boyfriend.”

Before I could comment on that, Jason and Brandon joined us, and we headed for the Bubba Tub. I hadn't considered how awkward it would be walking to a ride with another couple, a couple obviously in serious
like
mode. Brandon had his arm around Bird, she was snuggled up against his side. Jason and I were walking side by side with our arms dangling loosely. At one point our fingers touched, and I think we both jumped, sensing the forbidden current.

“So, do you come here often?” Jason finally asked.

“A couple of times each summer. Not often enough to get a season pass.” I shrugged. “I mean, there are so many water parks in the area, why limit options?”

He grinned. “I hear you.”

He was, of course, wearing only his swim trunks, having removed his T-shirt as well. He was really fit and trim, a little more tanned than I expected, so I figured he must have been playing ball occasionally without his shirt on. Maybe all the guys did, because Brandon was tanned, too.

We got to the Bubba Tub and started climbing the steps to the top where we'd get in the tub and ride it down the winding slope. Of course, the long line made the going slow. Maybe this was the reason Tiffany didn't do water, because it involved a lot of standing around, trying to think up a conversation. Of course, Brandon and Bird were using the time to kiss.

“Seen any good movies lately?” I asked, just to have something to say.

Jason laughed, like he knew exactly what I was trying to do. Fill the dead air between us.

“Not really. So why do you think we go through this?”

“Through what?”

“Waiting in these long lines for what will probably be a thirty-second thrill.”

“I guess we figure a thirty-second thrill is better than no thrill at all.”

“So what's your favorite ride?”

“I have two actually. Avalanche and the Lazy River.”

“What's Avalanche?”

“The tallest, fastest…it's almost a straight drop, on your back, arms crossed.” I shuddered. “It's really a rush, no pun intended.”

“I'll have to try it.”

“We could do it after this one,” I said, before I could stop myself, before I convinced myself that out of loyalty to Mac, I should spend the day riding alone.

“Okay,” Jason said.

He seemed slightly amused, but it was difficult to be sure because he was wearing sunglasses. Of course, so was I.

Jason leaned down and said, his voice low, “Look, I know you're with Mac. But who wants to be at a water park alone? Let's just have fun.”

I smiled at him. “I like your thinking.”

We finally got to the top and climbed into the huge inner tube, boy, boy, girl, girl, so Bird
and I were sitting beside each other with Brandon beside her and Jason beside him. We grabbed the straps along the bottom of the tube.

Brandon and Jason were wearing huge grins.

“You realize our side is weighted more than yours,” Brandon said.

“Yeah, so?” Bird said.

“So we're going to go fast,” he said, just as an attendant pushed the tube over the edge.

Bird and I screamed and laughed most of the way down, while the guys just laughed. I'd never been to a water park with a guy, and it was fun, really fun, riding this ride with the guys.

“Let's do the Black Void next,” Bird said, as we climbed out of the tube at the bottom of the slope.

“We were thinking Avalanche,” I said.

“Yeah, but the Black Void is right here, and Avalanche is on the other side of the park.”

I looked at Jason. He grinned, shrugged. “Black Void is fine with me.”

I wondered if he realized the Black Void
was a two-person ride. I thought about asking who was going to ride with whom, but since Bird was already nestled against Brandon's side, it seemed like a pointless question.

“Black Void it is,” I said. Not willing to admit that I wasn't entirely disappointed I would be riding it with Jason.