Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(11)

The rush of winning and the knowledge I have a scout interested      in me still linger in my blood. My lungs expand with clean oxygen and my muscles      lose the tension that weighed me down during the game. I feel relaxed, at peace,      and alive.

I stare at home plate and in my mind I see Logan crouched in      position and the batter taking a practice swing. My fingers curl as if I’m      clutching the ball. Logan calls for a curve; I accept, except this time I...

“I knew you’d be here.” In her brown leather cowboy boots and      blue dress, Gwen swings around the gate into the dugout.

“How?” I ask.

“You screwed up the curve.” In one smooth motion, Gwen sits on      the bench in the dugout and pats the wood beside her. She’s playing a game. One      I’ll lose, but damn if my feet don’t move toward her.

She looks good. Better than good. Beautiful. I ease down beside      her as she tosses her blond ringlets behind her shoulder. “I remember you      explaining the bases to me in this dugout. The best baseball conversation we      ever had.”

I lean forward and clasp my hands together. “Maybe you missed      part of the conversation, because I wasn’t explaining baseball.”

Gwen flashes her bright smile. “I know, but I still enjoyed the      demonstration.”

Our eyes meet for a moment and I glance away when heat crawls      along my cheeks. Gwen’s the only girl I’ve had any real experience with. She      used to blush when she talked about anything sexual, but she doesn’t today.      Nausea rolls through my gut. What new bases has Mike taught her?

“You seemed out of it during the game.” The material of her      dress swishes as she crosses her legs and angles her body toward mine. Our      thighs touch now, creating heat. I wonder if she notices. “Are you having      problems with your dad again?”

Gwen and I spent countless afternoons and evenings in this      dugout. She always knew when Dad pushed me too far with the refs or that if I      played like crap, I’d come here for clarity. “No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Everything. Mom and Dad fighting. Mark’s absence. Me and pro      ball. My friends/not-friends relationship with Gwen. For a moment, I think about      telling her about Mark. Like the rest of the town, she remains blissfully      unaware. I stare into her eyes and search for the girl I first met my freshman      year. She wouldn’t have messed with me then. Unfortunately, I’ve since become      her favorite pastime. “I’m not in the mood to be played, Gwen.”

Gwen raises her hand and twirls her hair around her finger. The      glint of a large red-stoned ring strikes me like an ice pick. I shift so that      our thighs no longer touch. “Mike gave you his class ring.”

She drops her hand and covers it with the other, as if hiding      the ring will make me forget it’s there. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “Last      night.”

“Congratulations.” If I could have let more anger seep out I      would have.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.” My voice rises with each word. “For starters,      not be here screwing with me.”

She ignores my comment as her own voice hardens. “Mike’s a good      guy and he’s always around. He’s not gone all the time and doesn’t have a      thousand commitments like you.”

In all of our breaks and breakups, we never fought. Never      raised our voices at each other. Before, I never considered yelling at Gwen; now      it’s the only thing I want to do. “I told you that I loved you. What else could      you want?”

“To be first. Baseball always came first with you. God! How      much clearer a picture did you need? I broke up with you at the beginning of      your seasons.”

I stand up, unable to sit next to her. How much clearer a      picture? Obviously I needed detailed drawings with written directions. “You      could have told me that’s how you felt.”

“Would it have changed anything? Would you have given up      baseball?”

I curl my fingers into the metal of the fence and stare out at      the field. How could she ask that type of question? Why would any girl ask a guy      to give up something he loves? Gwen’s playing games right now and I’ve decided      to throw the pitch that ends the inning. “No.”

I hear her sharp intake of air and the guilt of hurting her      punches me in the stomach.