The Boyfriend League (12 page)

It was a five-hundred-foot tunnel. The inner tube was designed for two-person seating. I sat in the front with my legs stretched out over the tube. Jason was in the sitting area behind me, his legs along the side. I had to lean back a little, which put my back against his chest. I guess he could have held on to the sides of the tube. Instead, his arms came around me.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice low near my ear.

“Yeah.” I sounded breathless. I'm sure it was the anticipation of the ride, not his nearness.

A red light at the top of the tunnel switched to green, someone pushed us, and then we were plunging into the black abyss.

 

“Awesome!” Jason said as we came out from the ride, holding hands.

I'm not sure either of us had given the taking of hands any real thought. It just seemed like the thing you should do after traveling through the darkness to the final splash.

“That was totally cool,” Jason said.

“Totally,” I said.

Bird and Brandon came out next, Brandon wearing a grin wide enough to challenge Jason's.

“Where to next?” Brandon asked.

“Avalanche?” I suggested.

“Let's go.”

 

“I think I could go to sleep right here,” Jason said.

It was late afternoon. The four of us were in individual inner tubes, floating along the Lazy River, which was basically a narrow, three-foot pool that circled the entire park, the water somehow set up so it flowed constantly and slowly.

Jason and I were holding hands so our tubes didn't wander away from each other. I think we'd ridden every slide and tube the park had to offer. We'd gone back to the pavilion to
eat lunch. Jason had brought ham sandwiches, which I recognized as coming from Ruby Tuesday. Brandon had brought drinks and chips. Apparently they'd coordinated their food efforts. I guess they'd figured we'd be hanging out together.

Tiffany had taken a pass on eating. She was entertaining a couple of guys in the pool area. By entertaining, I mean asking silly questions they were dumb enough to try to answer.

Now we were letting our food settle, before taking another shot at the rides we'd enjoyed most.

“I know after all the thrill rides that it seems strange to enjoy this ride, but I love having a few moments of calm,” I said.

“Nah, I like it, too,” Jason said.

His fingers squeezed mine. “I wasn't sure you'd hang out with me today.”

I looked over at him, glad I was wearing sunglasses so he couldn't read whatever expression might be in my eyes. “I'm family, right?”

“Right.”

I lifted our hands, splashed them in the
water. “I had fun. I'm glad you invited me.”

“I'm glad you came.”

Okay, could we get any more lame? It's like we were both trying to say something without saying anything.

I swallowed hard. “What would you have done if Tiffany ‘did water'?”

“You mean if I'd had to choose who to ride the rides with?”

“Yeah.”

“It could have gotten awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“You're more fun,” he said.

I almost said, “You are, too.” But that would have been totally unfair to Mac. For all I knew he was a blast at a water park.

I heard the rush of the waterfall, and unhooked my fingers from Jason's. The river had this spot where water cascaded in various sheets, but if you guided your tube just right, you could slip through an open space, so you didn't get hit. I began to maneuver to the side.

As I neared the falls, I felt a tug on my tube and looked back. Jason had his hand on it and was grinning broadly.

“No way are you not going through the falls,” he said.

“I don't like them.”

“You don't ‘do' water?”

“I don't ‘do' waterfalls.”

“Oh, yeah, you do.”

With me kicking and screaming, he pushed me off my course and sent me through the falls. I purposely dumped myself over on the other side and was standing, waiting, when he came through. I put my hands beneath his tube and dumped him over.

“Hey!” he yelled before he went under.

I was laughing as I plowed through the water to snag my inner tube. I hoisted myself on it, smiling as I watched him threading through the water, dragging his tube behind him to catch up with me.

“You don't want to mess with me,” I warned, unable to stop my grin.

“No, I guess I don't.” He climbed into his tube, leaned back, and took my hand.

“You're really fun to be with, Dani,” Jason said.

It almost sounded like he was saying some
thing else. Something deeper, more intense. Something you didn't say to a girl who had a boyfriend.

 

We stayed until the park closed at eight. I called shotgun, so I sat in the front on the way home.

But it was like the water park had been a magical place where Jason and I could laugh, have fun, hold hands. But it wasn't real.

The magic disappeared as soon as we walked out through the gate.

“W
hat
are
they talking about?” Bird asked. “I've never seen a pitcher and catcher spend so much time on the mound. This is, what, the third time this inning?”

Since it was Jason and Mac, I wondered if they were talking about me again. And maybe I didn't really want to know what they were saying.

Mac had returned to Ragland late that afternoon, just in time for the big Rattlers pretailgate party my dad had thrown in our backyard, early enough that the players could join us before the game and grab a couple of the burgers he was grilling.

I was glad to see Mac, but feeling guilty, too. I couldn't forget how much fun I'd had
with Jason at the water park, the feel of his hand in mine, the way he'd looked so triumphant and pleased when he'd pushed me beneath the falls. I couldn't forget the appreciation and awe in his voice as he'd walked through my bedroom and looked at all the things that were important to me. And I knew—
knew!
—that if I invited Mac to see my room, he'd think I was offering another kind of invitation.

Mac didn't know me the way Jason did. But he was my boyfriend. Wasn't he?

But if he was, why had I spotted him giving Tiffany miniature golf pointers at Dad's party? His arms wrapped around her, his hands on hers as they gripped the golf club. It was way too similar to our encounter at Dave and Bubba's.

But what really bothered me was that I wasn't upset. Shouldn't I have been upset?

Put Tiffany in the front seat of the car with Jason, and I'd be trying not to go ballistic because she was that close to him.

Mac and Jason were obviously disagreeing about something. Both of them being on the
mound made no sense. Jason was pitching an almost-perfect game.

The umpire shouted at them. Mac shook his head and trudged back to the plate. Jason did his pre-pitch warm-up. Then he threw the ball with such force that the
thwump
it made when it hit Mac's glove was louder than usual.

“Strike three! You're out!” the umpire yelled.

It was the third out of the second inning. The Rattlers were heading to the dugout. When Mac got close to Jason, he shoved Jason's shoulder. Jason shoved back. Mac took a swing—

Jason lunged for him.

The crowd jumped to its feet and started yelling, but it was like, who did we yell for? Because these were the kind of cheap shots you saw players on opposing teams make.

These guys played on the same team!

The coaches ran onto the field, while the umpire pulled them apart. Then the coaches yelled at them. One led them back to the dugout, yammering at them as they went. The umpire and the head coach talked.

The head coach went back to the dugout while the umpire yelled, “Play ball!”

“What was
that
about?” Bird asked as we took our seats. “I've never seen anything like it before.”

I could only shake my head. No way could it have been about me. Could it?

 

The after-game party at Bird's was subdued. We'd won. Everyone should have been celebrating, but tension abounded. Jason was nowhere to be seen.

If anyone knew what had caused the friction on the field, no one was saying. Not even Mac.

We were sitting on the edge of the pool, our bare feet dangling in the water. It was the first time since the concert that kissing didn't seem to be on his mind.

As a matter of fact, all he did was sit and sigh. And in typical fashion, I couldn't think of anything to say to him, because I figured any topic I offered, he wouldn't want to talk about. But finally, I got up the courage and asked, “What was going on between you and Jason?”

“Let's just drop it, okay?”

“We haven't really picked it up.”

“And we're not going to.”

“Okay, then, how about this? At Dad's pretailgate party, while I went to get us drinks, you went to give Tiffany golfing pointers. What's up with that?”

“Her ball kept missing the hole, that's all. So I thought I'd help her out. No big deal.”

My insecurities ratcheted up a notch. “She's really pretty.”

“Yeah.” He sounded distracted.

“Do you wish she was here?”

“Why do girls always blow things out of proportion? I had a five-hour drive from Houston. I should have come back yesterday. I'm gonna call it a night.”

He kissed me on the cheek, got up, and walked off.

Ooookay.

Since I'd ridden over with him—in silence—I was without transport home.

Bird sat beside me. “So, did he tell you what was going on?”

“Nope.”

“Weird.”

“Weirder yet, he's going to bed, and I don't have a ride home.”

“I'll take you. This party is the most boring one we've ever had.”

Five minutes later, I was walking through my front door. The house was dark, but I could see faint light coming from the kitchen. I figured maybe it was Dad, still up, waiting for me.

Only it was Jason in the dimly lit room, sitting at the table wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had a huge ice pack wrapped around his left shoulder.

“Ohmigod! Did Mac hurt you that bad?” I asked, coming farther into the kitchen. Jason had pitched two more innings after their encounter.

“He didn't hurt me at all. Sometimes I need to ice down my shoulder after I pitch, that's all.”

“Is it hurting?”

“It'll be okay.”

Which wasn't an acknowledgment or a denial.

“Is there something I can do?”
Like kiss it
and make it better?
As if I'd ever say that out loud. But I hated the thought of him in pain.

“No.”

His left elbow was resting on the table. His fingers, curled around a small bowl, were soaking in—I sniffed the zesty aroma—“Is that pickle juice?”

Jason grinned. “Yeah. It toughens the skin, helps prevent blisters.”

“I've never heard of that.”

“Your dad has.” He pointed to a large pickle jar on the counter. “He brings the jars home from the concession stand when all the pickles are sold, so I'll have plenty of brine.”

I pulled out a chair and sat, deciding to get straight to the point. “So what were you and Mac talking about on the mound tonight?”

“Stuff.”

“Me?”

“Let it go, Dani.”

“I can't. You told me before that you talked about—”

“Look, I just took exception to his flirting with Tiffany this afternoon, that's all. He took exception to my taking exception.”

“Oh.” Did that mean Mac was now interested in Tiffany? Was Jason? Were they fighting over her? Was I about to lose my boyfriend? More importantly, was I about to lose Jason as a friend?

“Do you like Tiffany?”

“Of course.”

“Does Mac?”

“Ask him.”

Too many surly guys in my life tonight. I thought I should just go to bed, worry about everything in the morning, but I was wired from the game, from the altercation.

“Remember that column we brainstormed?” I asked.

“The one about hosting and being hosted?”

“Yeah. I sent the idea to my editor. He doesn't want it for my column. He wants it for a featured article.”

“Is that better?”

“Oh, yeah. It's like I'll be a real reporter. Anyway, since you're just sitting there not doing anything, could I go ahead and interview you?”

“I don't know, Dani. I'm kinda wiped out.”

“We could start, but stop whenever you tell me. That's the beauty of you living here. We can always pick up later.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Great! I'm going to run up and get my recorder and notebook. I'll be right back.”

I stopped by my parents' bedroom, did my usual
knock, knock,
“I'm home!”

“How was the party?” Mom asked groggily.

I chuckled. Some things just never changed. “It was fine.”

“Night, sweetie,” Mom and Dad said at the same time.

It didn't take me long to grab the things from my bedroom. When I returned to the kitchen, Jason was still there, but the bowl of pickle brine was gone. The room was still a little shadowy.

“Would you be more comfortable somewhere else?” I asked.

“This is fine.”

“All righty then.” I sat down, turned to an empty page in my notebook, and clicked on the recorder.

“So, this is your first time playing in the collegiate league, right?”

“Right.”

“Have you found it hard to adjust to living with…strangers?”

“Not really. I have my own room, my own space. I can just hang out there when I need time to myself.”

“You've always lived with guys before, right? Brothers, team players—”

“If I don't count my mom.”

“For the purposes of this question, she doesn't count.”

He grinned. “Then yeah. I've always lived with guys.”

“Have you found it different having girls in the house?”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Nope.”

I looked up from my writing. “If you don't elaborate, it's going to be a very short article.”

“Look, I've already gotten into it once tonight—”

“Are you implying I'm hard to live with? Is
that why you won't comment further? Because you think I'll be offended? I won't be.”

“No further comment.”

I sighed, tempted to toss the recorder at him.

“Okay, then, we'll move on. What's been the most difficult aspect of living with us?”

There was silence, but it was the kind where you can sense someone wants to speak but doesn't. Jason was so incredibly still, as though he was weighing consequences.

“Not kissing you,” he finally said, quietly.

My heart did this little stutter. I just stared at him as the recorder continued to run, searching for sound. My hand was shaking when I reached over and turned it off.

“But you did kiss me, and you said it was a mistake.”

“Because getting involved with you is a bad idea, on so many levels.”

“Care to share one of those levels?”

“I'm living in your house. Your parents are giving me a roof over my head. Your mom brings home extra takeout. I'm here only for
the summer. Then I'm back at school.” He reached up, removed the ice pack from around his shoulder, and set it on the table. “And Mac? After we went to Dave and Bubba's, he comes out to the mound and tells me he thinks you're hot. And I know you like him, so I was willing to bunt.”

“Bunt?”

“Willing to sacrifice my happiness.”

“You thought you'd be happy being with me?”

“Are you kidding? You're cute, easy to talk to. You love baseball. You make me smile, make me laugh. And we won't even mention how much I liked kissing you.”

Only he
had
mentioned it. And now I was thinking about it when I really shouldn't be.

“Tiffany makes you laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, she's funny, says some really silly stuff, but I think she's a lot smarter than she lets on. You, you're honest. You're generous. Talking your parents into providing a home for a player.”

Not so honest, not so generous. My reasons
for wanting a player in the house were purely selfish. I wanted someone who would introduce me to the team, introduce the team to me.

“Let's go back to what happened at the ballpark,” I said, “because I'm still not getting it.”

He sighed. “Look, he tells me he's got a thing for you. I back off. He gets you. And now he's making moves on Tiffany. What's up with that? I know you like him. He's a nine point five and I'm a six—”

“No!” I reached out, covered his hand with mine.

“Dani, I saw your roster that night at Ben and Jerry's, when it fell out of your bag. I unfolded it, shouldn't have, but I did. I saw the hottie scores—”

“No. I mean, yes, I gave you a six, but I did it because I wanted to give you a ten.”

He shook his head. “That makes no sense.”

“I was trying to convince myself you weren't a ten, because it's a lot harder living with a guy you're attracted to than it is living with one you're not.”

“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You gave me a six because you liked me, and
you thought it would make you stop liking me?”

“I thought it would be weird liking a guy who was living in my house. And I sorta promised Mom I wouldn't do that. Really like the guy who was living here. Only I do.”

“But you've been hanging out with Mac.”

“Not really. I've been kissing Mac.”

I put my elbows on the table, buried my face in my hands. “God, I've created such a mess.” I finally lifted my head and looked at him. “I'm not noble. I'm not like Tiffany with her orphans. I talked my parents into sponsoring a player not because guys needed a place to stay. I did it…because I wanted a boyfriend.”

“You thought I'd be your boyfriend?”

“No, that was too icky to even consider. I mean, you've seen my underwear. I've seen yours.”

His mouth twitched.

“I thought you'd introduce me around,” I continued. “I'd do things with the team. The players would get to know me, become interested. I just wanted a boyfriend.”

It sounded so pathetic, so desperate.

“And now you've got one,” he said.

“But I don't know if he's the right one.”

He grabbed the ice pack, stood up. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

I watched him walk out of the room.