“What do you mean Violet’s going to break up with Dan?” I ask Kennedy. Her fear and reluctance to tell me is evident when her eyebrows scrunch together. “The guy’s a teddy bear, for crying out loud. If I had a vagina, I’d be all over that.”

Kennedy laughs as she plugs in her headphones to keep our conversation between the two of us. At least my end.

“I don’t understand it either. She keeps saying things about her parents’ divorce and how it makes her rethink a lot of things. Which, by the way, is out of left field.” She glances at her door, afraid Violet will overhear her. “As far as I knew, her parents were madly in love with each other.”

“You can’t exactly judge a relationship from the outside, though, can you?” I hold my phone a foot from my face.

“I know, but Graham, I’m worried about her. She’s being irrational, and I think it all stems from her parents’ divorce.” She shakes her head, her brown hair spreading out around her.

“Maybe, but what’re you going to do? Force her to stay with Dan when she doesn’t want to?” I flash a sympathetic smile. “Come on, Ken. It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not.”

“She’s going to fuck it all up.” Kennedy lets out a loud huff as she struggles to find comfort on her pillow.

“Maybe, or maybe they aren’t meant for each other. Maybe they were only meant to be in each other’s lives for this short amount of time.”

“How can you say something like that? If those two aren’t meant for each other, then how can we be?” The worry in Kennedy’s eyes throws a hundred nails into my heart.

“Okay, listen. For one,” I smile, “you and I are meant for each other. Whether or not they stay together doesn’t lessen or give value to our relationship.”

“And two?”

“Let her make her own decisions, but be there for her when she makes them.”

“You’re right.”

“Kennedy, she’s going to fall. Just make sure she doesn’t fall in a hole so deep she can’t get out of it.”

“When did you become so smart, Mr. Black?” She grins and shakes her head.

“Somewhere between graduating high school and the first week of college.” I lean against my headboard.

Her wide smile reassures me I don’t have to explain. “Smart and sweet. How did I get so lucky?”

An incoming text pings. The top of my screen shows a photo attachment symbol next to Ashlee’s name. Forgetting I’m on video chat with Kennedy, I groan and roll my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she questions.

Unsure how to broach this specific topic with her, I’ve put it off. From my end, it doesn’t matter, but from hers, this could cause a great deal of hurt and discomfort.

“Graham, who texted you?” she asks again.

“Ashlee.”

“Ashlee, like Sandy’s slutty friend, Ashlee?”

“Yes.”

“What does she want?”

“Honestly?”

“No, please lie to me.” Kennedy rolls her eyes. “What does she want?”

“Me.”

“Of course she does.” Kennedy props her phone on her dresser, unplugging the headphones. She prances around her room, looking through her drawers. She dips down and her face pops back onto the screen. “Babe, she’d be crazy not to want you.”

“So, you’re not mad?” I question, surprised.

A sinister laugh makes me lean further from the phone.

“Oh, I’m furious, because I can only imagine what the little slut sent in that text.”

My eyes widen in discomfort. I was hoping we could avoid discussing details, but it wouldn’t be Kennedy without digging a little deeper.

“You better delete it if it involves nipples or what I can only imagine is her blown-out nether regions.”

An uncontrollable rip of laughter breaks through my lips. “Did you just say blown-out nether regions?”

“It’s not funny, Graham. Some skank is sending you grotesque, obscene photos.”

“Maybe you should send me one of your own.”

“I don’t do grotesque, so if that’s what you’re looking for, then you’ve swooped up the wrong girl.” A wide smile spreads across her face as she backs away from the dresser. She pulls her shirt over her head and drops it to the floor. “I can do one better.”

With a held breath, I devour Kennedy with my eyes. Her slow precision when she pops the button on her jeans and loops her thumbs into the waist band makes me want to jump through the phone and be in her room. The denim makes a slow descent down her trim, strong legs. She bites her lip as she steps out, kicking it to the side. The muscles in her arms strain as she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. The silk material slides down and hooks on the end of her fingers. I let out a deep breath when she finally allows it to fall.

“Fuck.” I know she hears me because her eyes flash back to the dresser. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her hips sway from side to side. “I think that’s up to me.” Her middle fingers swoop through the strings holding her panties on her body. Her eyes drop to the floor, as if she’s shy, but she has no reason to be. It’s just me and her.

A loud thud startles both of us. Kennedy’s eyes widen and she dives beside her mattress, hidden from her bedroom door. She screams.

“What are you doing in here?” Kennedy jerks the blanket off the bed. “Get out. Now.”

Will comes into view, and his eyes dart to the dresser when she glances in my direction.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He jabs the phone, where I’m thankful I’m hundreds of miles away, and not there for him to kick my ass.

“Will, you wanna do me a favor, and leave the room for a second? Your sister would probably like to get dressed,” I ask, earnestly, indicating Kennedy who cowers behind her comforter.

After threatening my life, Will leaves us alone. I smile and wave before turning my attention to Kennedy. Her eyes are still wide when her door slams behind him. She clutches the blanket, to my utter disappointment, and promises to call me back later after she deals with the wrath of her brother. I wish her luck through my laughter and press the end button.

Will’s tomato-colored face is funny enough, but Kennedy’s bewildered stare from under the blanket was totally hilarious.

When I hit the bottom step, Rico’s in the living room with textbooks spread all over the tables and chairs. He lifts his chin in my direction. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing. What’s going on down here?” I wave at the mess.

“I’m cramming because I’m a fucking idiot,” he answers, but never looks up from the book in his hand. “Why didn’t you all tell me I’ve been partying too hard?”

“Because that’s all of a sudden our responsibility?” Griffin says as he passes through to the kitchen.

“Yes, it’s your responsibility. We’re teammates. You’re supposed to tell me when I’m fucking up.” Rico stands from the couch and I follow him.

“You’re fucking up,” Griffin and I say in unison.

“I have a D in business ethics,” he explains his dilemma.

“Shocker.” I slap my hand against Griffin’s in an overdramatic, eighties high-five.

“I’m out of here.” Griffin pats us both on the back as he grabs a water before ducking out the back door.

Ever since Griffin declared his intentions to Sandy, they’ve spent most of their time at her apartment. It’s only a matter of time before Sandy drags him out of here by his bootstraps and has him moving in with her.

“How’s Kennedy?” Rico opens the fridge, tossing random things on the countertop.

“She’s good. Having a little bit of trouble with Violet.” I open a Tupperware container I wasn’t aware we owned. “She’s thinking about breaking things off with Dan.” I pop a piece of cold turkey in my mouth.

“What?” Rico stalls his sandwich making. “If I was a girl, I’d be all over that giant of a man.”

“Oddly enough, I said the same thing.”

“So, what’s going on then? Someone doesn’t just break up with perfection.”

“Her parents are getting a divorce, and I think it’s knocked her for a loop.”

“Man, that fucking sucks. I was eight when mine split up, then I was eleven when they got back together, and no surprise at all, I was seventeen when they divorced again.”

“That’s rough.” I grimace.

“Now you wonder why I don’t do relationships. I don’t know how you all do it. The same girl every day, checking up on where you’re at. The whole ritual sounds horrendous.”

“It’s not so bad. One day a girl will come along and sweep you off your feet. When that happens, I pray I’m here to watch you turn into a little bitch in her presence.”

“Never gonna happen, man,” he shouts to me as I walk out of the room.

*****

“Black, come see me when you’re all done out here,” Coach yells.

My teammates watch me prepare to throw out my seventieth pitch, if my count is correct. I half expect them to stick their tongues out and sing, “You’re in trouble, you’re in trouble,” but instead they turn around to ground a few more balls.

We’re in the middle of our season. When you look around the field, a sense of pride and determination paints our faces. Baseball pumps through our veins, preparing us for the second half of our schedule. We’ve got anticipation on our side. No one loves baseball more than the guys around me now.

Mark stands from behind home plate. “Try the pitch again. Your throw’s off.”

I do as he says. Catchers are a pitcher’s greatest ally. They’re the only ones who witness the ball coming head on, and anticipate where it will go before the batter even knows to swing or let it fly by. So when Mark tells me to pitch again, I pitch again. We do this until I get the release damn near perfected.

“What do you think he wants?” Mark nods to Coach who’s in the middle of a heated debate with Rico.

“I don’t know, but hopefully he gets all his aggression out on Rico before he gets to me,” I answer, picking my phone up from my bat bag. One missed text. I groan when I open it, and Mark notices.

“Ashlee still?” He motions to my phone.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I delete the text without opening it.

“Good luck with all that.” Mark pats me on the back and I throw my phone back into my bag.

When I find Coach, he has Rico running laps around the field.

“Sir, you said you needed to talk to me.” We lean against the fence. “How many do you have him doing?” I press my chin toward Rico.

“Fifty.” Coach lets out a laugh. “Maybe now he’ll take school a little more seriously.” He turns to me. “Now, I know it’s always been a dream of yours to go pro.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What if I told you I had a college friend who happens to recruit for the Yankees?”

“I’d say you have friends in high places, Sir.”

“He wants to come watch you pitch, Graham.”

“What?”

“It’s not a promise of anything. Now, with that being said, you know the draft rules, but this could be big. Especially if you keep slinging balls like you’ve been.”

Coach is referring to the Major League Baseball rules. A player can enter the draft right out of high school. If he goes to college, he’s not eligible until his junior year or his twenty-first birthday. As a twenty-year-old sophomore, I’ll have to bide my time until next year, either way.

“Do you think I have a chance, Coach?”

“What do you think? What I think doesn’t matter.”

“My pitching has been clean and consistent. My mind sure is in the game.”

“Good.” He slaps me on the back and heads out of the field.

Unlike Coach Hagen in high school, Coach Boone keeps his players at arms-length. He gets to know us, but never too deep. His main focus is the game. Coach Hagen was nosy and nurturing, so the first time I saw Coach Boone on campus, I wasn’t sure what to think of his curt nod. Now I know it’s just the type of man he is. The first time I witnessed him running bases with his son, he became more human and less of a robot.

Finished with his punishment, Rico jogs to the fence and slings his bag over his shoulder. “What’s Coach Grumpy Ass want with you?”

“A scout wants to come watch me pitch, I guess.” I say, as we walk to the car.

Rico doesn’t say anything until we pull in the driveway. “Scouts are a big deal, man.”

“They are,” I answer. “When scouts came in high school, it all started to seem real. And now …”

“The world’s at your fingertips, Graham. Don’t go and fuck it up.” Rico jumps out and runs inside.

For another ten minutes, I sit in the car, thinking about what Coach and Rico said. My phone rings, and I reach behind me to fish it out of my bag. My mom’s name is on the screen. Not able to ignore it, I accept as I get out of the car and head inside.

“Hey, honey,” she says.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“In what world don’t you call to tell me you and Kennedy are back together?” she hollers.

I hear a familiar clink. “Mom, are you having a glass of wine?”

“Don’t lecture me. I’m your mother.” I hear her swallow what I assume is her normal white wine. “Regina, you know, Kennedy’s mother, and I are hanging out.”

“Hi, Graham,” Mrs. Conrad shouts.

“Tell her I say hi, and thanks for letting the cat out of the bag.”

“There shouldn’t be a cat in the bag. I’m your mother. I have every right to know when you and that sweet, beautiful girl get back together. It’s about damn time, is all I’m going to say about the matter,” she rambles. “Now, when’s the wedding?” She carries on a conversation with Mrs. Conrad as if I’m not listening.

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll talk to you later, Mom.” I groan.

“Oh, right. Well, I love you.” I hear the smile in her voice as she says goodbye.

Since they met, those two have been inseparable. Even through the drama and fall out, those two stand strong, continuing to believe in Kennedy and me. Mrs. Conrad has a way of uplifting anyone’s spirits.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I hustle to my room. When I push through the door, Ashlee is on my bed, her head resting on the pillow, masking the remnants of Kennedy’s soft scent. I yank the pillow out from under her and toss it across the room.

“I can’t deal with this shit right now.” I groan my disapproval.

“Don’t be like that,” Ashlee whines, propping up on her hands. Her chest pops out, and the broad smile on her face tells me she’s up to no good. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ashlee, there’s nothing to miss. What’re you even doing here? Who let you in?” I toss my phone on the bedside table and walk to the bathroom. “You better be gone when I come back out,” I yell through the closed door.

With the water from the shower running, I almost miss her tap on the door. She tiptoes in as I peek out the curtain.

“Seriously, Ashlee, take a hint,” I yell.

“I was just coming to tell you I’m sorry for intruding, and it won’t happen again.” Her hands go up in protest.

“Thank you.” Once I hear the door click, I finish my shower.

Ashlee can’t be called anything but persistent. The girl doesn’t quit when she puts her mind to something. Unfortunately for me, I’m her something these days. Sandy warned me Ashlee didn’t take rejection well, but I never expected it to this extent. Almost every day, I receive a text or picture in an attempt to lure me to her bed. To say the least, it makes me uncomfortable, and her dismissal of Kennedy grates on my last nerve. Although she’s kept her cool for this long, if Ashlee’s behavior goes on any longer, I’m not sure how Kennedy will react. I don’t think I want to be there to witness it unfold.

A twist of the knob heats the water to a scalding temperature. The stream beats down on my muscles, relaxing the strain from today’s practice. I stretch my neck from side to side, shutting my eyes. My mind wanders to Kennedy, to the first time I saw her dance in the city.

My eyes adjust to the darkness as I sneak into the auditorium. Faint noise comes from the stage as I take a seat in the back row, hidden from my reason for being in New York.

Kennedy.

I’m desperate to reach out, to shout her name at the top of my lungs. Instead, I listen as the audience falls in love with her, and I fall in love with her all over again.

The long, white top hangs off one shoulder, giving me a glimpse of her lacy bra. Long, bare legs make my hand itch to touch her. With her head bowed, she exudes confidence. Kennedy waits for her cue from the music.

A haunting melody erases the silence, and her head comes up. The fierce, unmoving way she scans her eyes over the crowd bewilders me. She doesn’t expect me to be here, but I imagine she’s searching for me.

Her toes sweep over the wood beneath them, and her arms and legs extend to great lengths. She floats on air. The beauty of her movement takes me to a time where she was mine. As the song reaches the climax, she beats and rips at her chest. The pain is palpable.

Unraveled and overwhelmed with what she has shared with us all, I race out the door the moment the music fades.

*****

“What’s going on tonight?” Rico asks.

“Not a damn thing.” I open the fridge, fussing with my wet hair. Turkey and cheese in hand, I go to the center island and make a sandwich. Rico stares at me the whole time. “Do you need something?”

“Come to the hoedown at Natalie’s.”

“Seriously?” I grumble around a bit.

“I know you’re all broody and in love, but you should come out for a bit. The rest of the team would appreciate it.”

Over the last seven months since I’ve come to Connecticut, the baseball field is the only time I’ve allotted for bonding with my team. In some ways, I’ve been both present and absent at the same time. So at the mention of a party, I’m compelled to be a team player.

“I’ll show up.”

Rico smacks my shoulder and whoops in celebration. Out of any of the guys, he’s tried the hardest to get me to mingle with the rest of the student body. On campus, the athletes are treated like gods. Girls gravitate to us, batting their eyelashes for a glimpse of hope to hook up. The guys look to soak up our magic ability of making panties drop. Guys like Rico live for the admiration, but I’m not searching for anything from anyone here on campus. I’ve signed the dotted line to fulfill a duty, play baseball, and not completely fuck up my chance at an education.

Not realizing how tired I am from practice, I rest for a few minutes. A loud pounding on my door wakes me. Rico and Griffin let themselves in without my permission, and throw my covers to the floor.

“Get up. The guys are waiting,” Griffin shouts, stomping to my closet.

“I may not go to parties as often as the rest of you, but I’m pretty sure I’m capable of dressing myself to go out in public.”

A white thermal, a pair of jeans, and ten minutes later, I hop in my car and follow Griffin to Natalie’s. Her place is across campus, which gives me enough time to call Kennedy. During my impromptu nap, she left me a cryptic voicemail about Bea, Amanda, and her going on a mission.

One. Two. Three. Four rings, then voicemail.

My mood plummets. I grumble as we park in front of a two-story bungalow. Cars line both sides of the streets, and music pours from the windows and open doors. A girl waltzes by my passenger door, in the shortest pair of denim shorts, and a plaid shirt tied to expose her entire tanned stomach. She grins in my direction. One more unanswered call to Kennedy, then I slide my phone into my front pocket.

The country/pop style music blisters my ears when I walk inside. At my groan, Rico grins at me.

“Try to have a good time. Loosen up a little. I’m gonna go find Mark.” His bear-like hand smacks me on the shoulder, and he scampers in the direction of a scantily clad female who’s had her eyes on him since we waltzed in the door.

I push through the crowd, offering hellos and bro-hugs to every familiar face. Most comment on my absence all year. I ignore them, and push through to the kitchen where I’ll find beer and maybe space to sulk.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Ashlee stoops to eye level as I peer into the bottom of my red Solo cup. When my eyes peek over the lip, she’s playing with the tie of her plaid shirt and pressing out her chest. Her outfit is almost identical to the girl who walked by my car earlier. Their desperate attempt to draw attention makes me sick.

Ashlee presses up against me, forcing me to push off the counter. I pivot to the side. She senses my plan to slip past, and moves with me. My hands come between us to fend her off, and when she pushes her breasts against them, I jerk them back like I’ve been scalded.

This, this right here, is why I wanted to stay home. Why I haven’t bothered to come out. The way the girls look at me on campus makes me uneasy. Hell, in high school, as a freshman, I banged half of the seniors, so attention is nothing new to me, but it’s unwanted, nonetheless.

Several girls cluster in a group, side-eyeing us and whispering.

“I need you to take a step back, Ashlee,” I whisper to avoid embarrassing her. “Take. A. Step. Back.”

“Ask Rico. Hell, ask Griffin.” Ashlee raises an eyebrow, challenging me. “I won’t be a waste of your time.”

In my head, my mind goes through several stages of confusion. Griffin, really? My eyes break through the crowd to find Sandy’s head falling back with laughter. Griffin rustles her hair to the side and kisses her neck.

Ashlee’s eyes follow my gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was before they met freshman year.” She grins, thrusting back against me.

I find it weird she could never imagine stepping in on Griffin and Sandy, but never takes Kennedy and me into consideration.

A hand skims up my chest and locks around my neck. She yanks me close and my eyes widen. I shove back, but her lips press against mine. Ashlee’s loud pants say she’s experiencing a completely different kiss than I am. My hands circle her biceps and I force her back. From somewhere in the room, I hear a loud gasp.

“Graham?” a familiar voice whispers.

And, in a matter of seconds, my heart drops into my stomach.