Rounding Third (2 page)

“Get off me.” Spencer punches him in the gut.

Brax releases his hold, gripping his stomach in laughter. “Shit, you grew up, little Lynch.” He appears impressed at Spencer’s skills.

“That’s what happens in two years.” Spencer cocks his neck from side to side and then finds me in the doorway, making Brax’s eyes peer over.

Brax’s smile fades as his shoulders fall. “Hey, Cros.”

“Hi, Brax.”

Even with the use of our shortened names, an uncomfortable silence occupies the small hallway. Spencer’s eyes volley between him and me, judging the way this tense scenario might play out.

“You see your room?” He nods toward the door.

“Yeah, I’m going to take Spencer to his dorm, and I’ll be back.”

“Cool.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Listen, um, no one knows. I mean, they know we went to high school together, but they don’t know, know.”

I nod.

“I just…I didn’t want you to worry about that.”

I nod a few more times. I’ve never seen Brax be unsure of himself. Not even at the funeral when he gave the eulogy because I wasn’t man enough to do it.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome.” His blue eyes cast down to the floor, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “You’d better get going. The parking is already crazy over there.” He focuses his attention on Spencer. “Come by anytime, and bring your buddies. There are enough diamond chicks for everyone.”

I chuckle inwardly at his affectionate moniker for the girls who seem to be chasing their meal ticket on the baseball diamond.

“Thanks,” Spencer says.

Two invitations, and he’s not chomping at the chance?

“I’ll be in the truck.” Spencer walks down the stairs, leaving me alone with someone who was once my best friend.

Brax starts to walk toward his room.

“Hey, Brax.”

He turns around.

“Thanks a lot for not making a big deal about me coming here.”

“No problem.” With that, he walks in his room and shuts his door.

I blow out a stream of air, slowing my thumping heart. If seeing Brax felt like being sliced open, I expect seeing Ella will be like having open-heart surgery—while awake.

I jog down the steps and out of the front door right after grabbing a key that was taped to the door, labeled third base.

Spencer’s in the truck by the time I climb into the driver’s side.

“That was awkward,” he says when I turn the key in the ignition.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him solemn.”

“Yeah.”

We drive over to his dorm, and Brax was right. Parking is insane. There are cars on the lawn with parents hauling suitcases and bins into the small dormitory. I’m positive that Spencer wishes our mom and dad were here instead of me.

“Let’s get this over with.” He opens the door and slams it shut.

Guess I’m right.

“
W
hat a fucktard
,” Jen, my roommate, says after we walk out of Pi Kappa, my boyfriend’s fraternity.

“He’s busy.” I stick up for Liam, like usual.

She only rolls her eyes, trying to be discreet.

“He wants to make the grades, ace the test, and get into medical school.”

“May I remind you that you’re a pre-med major, too?”

I nod. It’s the same discussion we have each time Liam ditches me and goes upstairs during one of Pi’s big parties. Keeping my mouth shut, so as not to give Jen more ammunition against Liam, I don’t divulge that tonight bugged me more than usual. We haven’t been in school a day yet, and he’s holed himself upstairs, claiming to be ahead of the game on the MCATs. One night wouldn’t have killed him.

“Come on.” Jen hip-bumps me, and her pissed off look has transformed to a fun-loving, ready-for-anything one. “Didn’t you say that Brax called?”

Now, I roll my eyes.

Brax, my one high school friend who attends Ridgemont, has called me no less than ten times in the past two days, requesting my presence at a party. Not that the reigning division champs’ baseball team doesn’t usually host a great party, but Pi had theirs. I guess Liam made my choice by leaving me stranded with his handsy frat brothers.

“I’m not in the mood for the baseball players,” I tell her, hoping she’ll turn us right toward our apartment. “I’ll let you pick the movie, and ice cream is on me.”

I smile wide, but she shakes her head.

“Nope.” She links her arm through mine and swings us left, toward The Ballpark, as the boys refer to their house.

“Come on,” I whine, dragging my feet.

“Ella Keaton, that lame-ass boyfriend of yours needs to be jealous. The baseball boys and their Instagram accounts will accomplish just that.”

I groan at her childish tactics while thinking the idea sounds plausible. Jealousy might make Liam show some sort of affection, other than an occasional quick screw between organic chemistry and genetics.

I swear, The Ballpark resembles the movie
Animal House
. Frat houses can’t come close to comparing to their parties. The city police turn their heads because God forbid a player is suspended. Might as well let them poison themselves with alcohol or fuck until their dicks fall off. The latter could possibly happen to Brax. The man has no respect for the female population. I can’t hold it against him though. Each one of us has dealt with our past in different ways. His way was to forget, mine was therapy, and Crosby…well, Crosby’s solution was to disappear.

Loud music pumps out of the open windows, and groups hang around the deck, sipping from their Solo cups.

Jen practically drags me up the stairs as I stop on every step as we inch closer. Jen doesn’t willingly leave parties, and I can’t leave her, so I suspect I’m in for a long night on the raggedy couch until she finishes with her guy of the night.

Jen’s hand is on the doorknob when one of Brax’s friends screams through the window, “Brax, Ella’s here!”

He turns to me, shoving the long strands of hair away from his eyes, and winks.

Confused, I look over to Jen because I had no idea the kid knew me. I’m barely here, and God knows I haven’t attended a baseball game since my senior year in high school. Unfortunately, that will change this year due to my new internship with the sports physicians.

The door swings open, and a panting shirtless Brax blocks our way.

“Ew, spare us,” Jen remarks on his clearly just-fucked appearance. “Zip it up, dude.” She points to his open fly.

Brax is hot. His sandy-blond hair, shaved close to his head, only brings out his icy-blue eyes. After a summer of working landscaping, his skin is tan, and now, it’s glistening.

“Like you don’t want what she had.” He concentrates on Jen, flinging his head in the direction of the staircase to the disheveled blonde chomping at the bit for more.

“Tell her to button her shirt,” I whisper, sliding by him through the doorway.

He sidesteps and blocks me. “Whoa, El.” He holds his hands up in the air.

“What is this?” Jen automatically grows defensive.
No
isn’t a word in her dictionary.

He eyes her and then looks back at me. There’s something working in those blue hues, but I don’t know what.

“You don’t want to hang around a bunch of horny baseball players tonight,” he says.

I draw back in surprise. “If you didn’t want us to come, why’d you call me so many times and then list the reasons I should come tonight?” I hold my hand up to count off the reasons he’s told me. “You tell me my boyfriend’s a douche, that I never get out, that I need a good fuck by one of your friends.”

He laughs. “Well, true, true, and damn true because no one fucks like my boys.”

“How do you know?” Jen interrupts again.

I snicker.

“From the girls who come in droves. You should try us sometime. Your long list would pale in comparison.”

“Hehe. Funny, asshole. Now, I need a beer to continue my buzz, so let us in.”

This is one time I agree with Jen.

“What’s the holdup?” I ask.

He turns to search the party and then swings his head back my way. “Isn’t Pi Kappa having a party?”

My patience is at max level when I cross my arms over my breasts. “Brax, what gives? Why are you shunning us? My guess is”—I glance to the blonde on the steps, who is in no hurry to button up her shirt—“you were in the middle of something before you were interrupted by someone telling you I was here. I don’t need you to chaperone me. I’m a big girl.”

He inhales a long, deep breath and looks down at me, as though we were telepathic and I should understand what his eyes are conveying.

“What, Brax?” I scream over the loud music.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He steps aside, allowing us into the party. “Hey, man, she’s here!” he yells into the house.

“Finally,” Jen drones.

As a sea of women disperse, a tall figure stands, and my heart hammers against my chest wall, like I’m standing on a wire, high in the sky, between two skyscrapers.

“Cinderella,” he says, his voice shallow, but sure of himself.

“Don’t call me that,” I respond, my feet frozen in place.

“Who is that?” Jen asks from behind me.

“That is Ella’s first love, Crosby Lynch.”

“I thought Liam was her first boyfriend?” Jen questions, her voice slowly fading to background noise.

Crosby breaks the small distance between us, and I swallow the large lump in my throat. My body screams for me to run or to pinch myself out of this dream, but his eyes still mesmerize me into submission.

“No, she and Crosby are destined.”

I hold my hand up in the air to stop Brax from rehashing history.

Crosby is still breathtakingly gorgeous. His dark hair is shorter and messy, and those hazel eyes still hold a glint of the devil in them. The cocky smile plastered on his face as he shoves his hands in his pockets, almost has me jumping in his arms and thanking him for coming back for me. But one question overrides my body.

“How long are you here?” I ask, bitterness lacing my voice.

He tilts his head. “Until graduation.” He glances to Brax. “My guess anyway.”

That cocky smile grows as the lump in my throat shrinks.

Quickly, the room starts spinning, and my breathing becomes more labored. He’s the new baseball player I heard Coach Lipton talking about.

“Oh my God.” My hand lies over my heart, and I close my eyes, trying to find my bearings, but the room continues to spin.

“Get her to the damn couch, Boy Dreamy!” Jen hollers.

Crosby grabs my elbow. His touch is so warm, so comforting, so safe. He guides me to the couch, but instead of setting me down, he places me on his lap. My eyes float around the room. Girls’ eyes are now glowering at me, Brax’s eyes are studying me, and Jen’s eyes show her pure ignorance to how serious tonight just became. As my eyes circle back to Crosby, I see he’s smiling again, his thumb brushing along my hip bone, as though we’d warped back to our senior year of high school.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice snapping me out of the haze.

I fall from my abrupt movement to flee from his lap, but spring up to my feet. “I’m fine. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ramble, fiddling with my hands while tapping my toes. “I mean, you’re here. In Ridgemont. Playing baseball and living in this house.” My vision shoots to Brax. “With Brax. Why would I not be okay?”

I look over to Jen, who’s finding way too much amusement in my predicament.

“Man, whoever you are, you’ve unglued Miss Perfect, and I love it.” She smiles wide at Crosby and then places her hand out in front of him. “I’m Jen, this crazy girl’s roommate.”

Crosby takes her hand. “I’m Crosby, perfect girl’s soon-to-be boyfriend.” He shakes her hand, his eyes on me.

“Ha. I love it. You are perfect for her.”

She turns to me as I swallow down my anxiety, glaring at a still shirtless Brax. Maybe he could have been more specific at the door. Then again, who am I kidding. I’d give up my envied internship for a chance to see Crosby.

“You need to dump the fucktard and take this man up on his offer.” She thumbs toward Crosby.

I throw my hands up in the air.

“You have a boyfriend?” Crosby’s voice is low and has lost the confidence it held moments ago.

My fidgeting stops, and our eyes lock. Hurt floods out of his eyes and most likely mine as well.

“I need a drink.” I spin around, knocking into a dancing couple. I straighten myself and determinedly head toward the kitchen.

“A boyfriend?” His deep voice rings out above the music.

I grab a cup and start filling it up with beer.

The room quiets, and all eyes are on him. It’s like déjà vu. Eyes have always lingered on Crosby, his whole life, when he was the star baseball player in high school and even when he wasn’t. His charismatic personality mixed with his talent give him a presence in any room.

The damn tap is only pouring foam, and in frustration, I smack it on the pile of ice, dumping the Solo cup on top of it.

His strong hand picks up the cup, and he grabs the spout. The muscles in his forearm flex while he’s pumping the tap. Unable to gain the composure I need to look at him, I stare down at his hand pouring me the perfect beer.

Our fingers brush in the exchange of the cup, and my whole body tingles, aware that my first love is back. Needing to brace myself, I lean against the wall, acting nonchalant by bringing the cup to my lips.

Even if this isn’t my typical college night, I sure as hell need to act like I’m not facing the only guy to make my heart ricochet against my chest wall.

“I’m sorry. I have no right to be angry,” he says, standing to my right with his back to the wall.

“You left me,” I whisper, relieved that the noise level has picked back up. I’m not even sure I want him to hear my admission.

His arm is no longer pressed to my shoulder, and I calculate he’s moving. Then, his shoes come into my view of the floor.

“What are you talking about? We left each other. That was the point.” He rolls back on his heels.

“You’re right. That was the point. Why are you here?” We made a pact, an agreement, that we would not contact one another.

“Can we please go somewhere else to talk?” he whispers back.

His hand reaches out, and I sway forward. My body heats up, the closer his hand grows to my cheek. He’s a millimeter away when he retracts, only igniting a burning in my flesh for his touch.

“Yeah.”

He nods his head in the direction of the living room but says nothing. When he heads toward the staircase, I stop walking.

“Not upstairs.”

He halts on the first step and peers around to find somewhere else. There are bodies everywhere, each corner already occupied with a couple or a cluster of girls. The house is not an option, and I wish the hope of being alone with him wasn’t so prevalent.

“Walk?” he asks.

I nod and down my beer, needing something to numb the pain in my body.

As we leave the baseball house, the situation is eerily similar to two years ago—when we intentionally hurt each other.