Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (3 page)

2 Skyler Swanson

Just as I
’
m about to have my first kiss and
what I assume what will be Buzz
’
s first too, the fucking
lake patrol interrupts us. It
’
s difficult for me, even at
age fifteen, to remain calm and not scream off the heads of the patrol guys. I
have to channel my anger into making sure Buzz isn
’
t going
to drown in my arms if she happens to forget she
’
s in the
water; she stopped treading water when my hand touched her a minute ago. Our
bodies are suctioned to each other and I squeeze her closer to me; I
’
m not going to let anything happen to her. If she gets in
trouble, so will I.

             “
You guys can’
t be out here,” a
burly voice announces as he continues shining the headlight in our faces.

             “Alright,”
I oblige loudly.

             “No wake on your way back,” a shyer, younger voice
calls out to us.

             “You okay?” I whisper as Buzz curls into my
shoulder. She keeps her composure well, and I feel her heartbeat decrease to a
normal level. It
’
s not nearly as fast as when I was about
to kiss her. When she nods and finally takes a deep breath, I tell her, “I
’
ll follow you back,”
and help her climb onto her
jet
-ski.

            I want to flip off the lake patrol so badly for
ruining my first romantic moment with Buzz. Maybe it
’
s a
sign that this shouldn
’
t happen. I
’
m not sure where the need originated; it was just kind of going
to happen. Growing up together we
’
ve had so many memories
and connections, but she
’
s also a girl. An attractive
girl. An attractive girl who loves sports, who
’
s actually
athletic and hilarious and daring. But she
’
s my best
friend… as well as my other best friend
’s little sister.
You
’
re treading dangerous waters, Skyler Swanson.

            When we enter the house, everything is dark except
for the moonlight reflecting off the lake. Thank God we have that because
otherwise we wouldn
’
t be able to see anything and we would
step on everyone sleeping all over the basement floor. Had we not gone for a
late night dip in the lake, we could just go back to our “
beds
”
on the floor, but we are slightly cold and soaking wet. Our rooms are occupied,
so I
’
m at a loss as to what to do about changing clothes
without blowing our cover that we left the house in the middle of the night. My
mom would definitely hear us if we go up to the open kids
’
bedroom;
she sleeps like a guard dog. Buzz walks up the steps behind me to the middle
level of the house where no one is sleeping.

            “All my clothes are in the bedroom,” she tells me as
she grabs two towels from the linen closet and throws one at me before wrapping
one around herself.

            “Maybe the laundry room has some clothes in it from
last time we were here,” I think, knowing I
’
m missing some
t-shirts at home. Luckily when we enter, my hopes are confirmed. Three of my
t-shirts are hanging above the washer and dryer, along with three pairs of my
athletic shorts and socks. I grab a Rocket t-shirt with my last name and number
seven on the back and throw it at Buzz. Before I can even give her a pair of
shorts, she throws her wet t-shirt off to reveal her bikini. I have to turn
away before I have the chance to become aroused, so I just take a t-shirt and
shorts for myself and leave to lock myself in the bathroom. I
’
m
acting like I
’
ve never seen a girl in a bikini before.
Shit, I
’
m acting like I
’
ve never seen
Buzz
in a bikini before! The girl practically lives
in one! What the fuck is wrong with me?

            After I take an extra few minutes to change and hang
up my wet clothes in the bathroom I
’
m convinced Buzz is
downstairs and in her “bed” already.

            Wrong. She
’
s fucking waiting for
me.

            “What
’
s up? You alright?” I
whisper, trying to read her nervous expression.
What is she thinking? She
looks like she
’
s going crazy. God, I just
want to fucking kiss her.

            “Yeah, I
’
m just cold, and it
looked like Tiff stole my blanket when we were walking over her,” she explains,
but I
’
m still confused. “And Rex, of course, stole my
pillow.”

            “This is your house, too. Just grab another blanket
somewhere,” I suggest.

            “All the blankets are being used. It
’
s fine; I
’
ll just grab some beach towels,” she
decides, starting to go back to the linen closet.

            “Stop,” I demand, her depressing antics not needed in
the middle of the night. Or ever, really. “My blanket is a double; just share
with me. Or steal yours back from Tiff.” Her breath catches after the first
half of my suggestion, proving she
’
s clearly nervous to be
that close to me again. Understandable. We
’
ve already been
caught once tonight.

            “
I don’
t have a pillow… it
’
s fine. I
’
m just
going to sleep on the couch up here,” Buzz informs me. Her eyes dart across the
room in obvious avoidance.
This is the effect you have on her? She
’
s drowning in nerves.

            I don’
t even say good night or
anything to her as she walks into the living room and plops on the couch. I have
no intention of letting her sleep on the couch with only a beach towel.
Immediately after going back downstairs to get my large blanket and two
pillows, I head back up to meet her. The couch is long enough that if we curl
up onto either side we can both fit. Obviously it
’
s going
to be a little cozy since we
’
re lanky teenagers, but I don
’
t fucking mind. Her brother, on the other hand, will probably
care a whole fucking lot.

            I throw the blanket over her and take my spot next to
her. “What are you doing?” she wonders breathlessly.

             “Making sure you don
’
t fucking
freeze,” I tell her. It might be the middle of summer, but our parents have the
air conditioner cranked up, and her hair is still fucking wet from jumping off
the high dive and me splashing her. I
’
m not about to have
her wake up sick and have her entire Fourth of July weekend ruined and not be
able to play in our annual Sandlot night game. I
’
m pretty
sure it
’
s a big reason why it
’
s her
favorite holiday. I know it’s why it’s mine.

            The next morning I hear all
the parents come down onto the main level. They
’
re talking
and stomping their feet down the stairs until the first one must see us on the
couch and shushes them all like they
’
re at a surprise
party. I imagine all the moms staring at us as if we are a box of kittens on
the side of the road.

            “Aw, look at that,” one of them whispers. I
’
m pretty sure it
’
s Benny and Tiffany
’
s mom, Theresa Locket.

            “I told you they
’
re going to end
up together,” another one teases.
Mom?
I question silently without
opening my eyes to see.
She thinks we
’
re
going to end up together? Great.

            “Not if Alex has anything to say about it,” a third
voice argues. It
’
s Beth Ferrari, Alex and Buzz
’
s mom.
Fuck.

            About a half hour later I can smell that breakfast is
almost ready but am adamant about faking being asleep until someone wakes us
up. I have to act like this is innocent - because it is - and the best way to
do that is to have backup from Buzz. I don
’
t want to be
attacked by all the moms alone. If anyone knows how to deter parents from
squeezing her cheeks and gawking, it
’
s Buzz.

            Finally I hear a female voice call, “Breakfast!” loud
enough for the entire lake to hear. It
’
s piercing but does
the trick. Maybe those girls from the sandbar heard the invitation and will show
up
.
I slowly sit up and glance over at Buzz who
’
s a
little groggy, clearly unaffected by the moms
’
loud
entrance earlier. She wipes her cheek of the drool from sleeping with her mouth
open before looking at me to see if I notice. I do, but I don
’
t
fucking care. She
’
s sleeping in my baseball t-shirt; I
’
m not going to complain. She
’
s the realest
and most gorgeous teenage girl I have ever met, and she
’
s
rocking my t-shirt. The last thing I want is for her to storm out and change
into her own clothes. There
’
s nothing sexier than seeing a
girl in my clothes - not that it happens often, but when it does, damn.

             “Ugh, they saw us, didn
’
t they?”
she quietly asks me, pointing at our moms in the kitchen.

             “Yeah, they did,” I confirm. She rolls her eyes and
sighs deeply, probably thinking the same thing as me: we
’
re
going to get shit for this. “Hey,” I say, grabbing her knee that
’
s
underneath the blanket. Her eyes light up as they meet mine. “Us against them,
who wins?”

             “Us, every time,” she answers, a slight grin growing
on her face. The first time I asked her that and she gave that as her answer
was the summer before I entered seventh grade. We went exploring in the
neighboring cabin to the left of ours that was under construction and therefore
unlocked. Our dads caught on from hearing our childish screams echo in the
empty house and busted us. As we heard them approaching us on the squeaky
floorboards, we exchanged those words and made it out alive. Ever since then it
’
s been our way of encouraging the other one to do something
even if it may result in severe consequences. Together we make an unstoppable
team and have more fun on adventures than anyone else in our crew.

             “
Then let
’
s
go. I
’
m starving,”
I convince her.

            I walk into the kitchen and purposely avoid eye
contact with anyone except for the occasional glance at Buzz from across the
table. The spread of breakfast food covers the table as we sit across from each
other and everyone else fills the gaps in between.

            “You got up early,” Alex announces about me to
everyone, and all the moms fall silent to listen for my response.
Will the
real housewives of Hinsdale please stand up? My God.

            “I slept on the couch up here,” I surprise all the
moms by being honest. “It got too hot downstairs.” There
’
s
the lie.

            “That
’
s weird. I was freezing,” the
blonde of our group, Tiffany, blurts out.

            “Really? Even with two blankets?” I recall. Out of
the corner of my eye I see Buzz
’
s head snap towards me and
her green eyes glare.

            “Yeah, I
’
m not usually as nice
of a person when I
’
m sleeping. Sorry, B,
”
Tiffany apologizes.

            “It
’
s fine. I
managed,
” Buzz brushes it off and drops her eyes from me.

            “
Wait
… where did you sleep?” her
female best friend wonders once she finally connects the dots. She’s not a
stereotypical dumb blonde. In fact, it’s a good thing Tom Locket didn’t get in
on the Battle of the Kids bet with my dad and Allen Ferrari. She could give us
all a run for our money - well maybe not Alex. He’s a fucking mastermind,
though.

            The silverware and plate clink together as soon as
Buzz pushes out her chair and stands up to excuse herself from the table. Her
expression is blank as if she hasn
’
t heard Tiffany
’
s question at all and is just bored with the table
conversation. This doesn
’
t surprise anyone in the room. We
’
re all used to Buzz avoiding confrontation and rebelling
against what
’
s expected.

           
Guess she
’
s not
having breakfast this morning
.

            When she
’
s out of the room, the
moms go back to murmuring about whatever it is that attracts their gossipy
ears, and Tiffany looks at me with concerned eyes.

            “Should I not have asked?” she questions me in a
serious tone. I can tell for years that, at times, Tiffany has felt like second
best to me in Buzz
’
s eyes. To her, I can do no wrong. Even
if Buzz is mad at me, she isn
’
t mad for long probably
because she knows I don
’
t care since it
’
s
usually over something stupid. Buzz isn
’
t one to hold a
grudge against anyone. She always says life
’
s too short
for that. But she doesn
’
t like to be in the spotlight
either, and Tiffany knows that.