On the Fence(26)

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you take it easy until camp starts?”

“I don’t have to work anymore?”

“No.”

I smiled, excited that I could have my summer back, but then Linda’s face flashed through my mind and I felt guilty. “I can’t just quit like that. I should probably give my boss a couple weeks’ notice.”

“That would be very responsible of you.”

I didn’t want to be responsible. I wanted to quit. Before I had to go out today with the girls I had nothing in common with. “Okay. Thanks, Dad. Um . . . I’ll be home a little later today.”

“You have a longer shift?”

“No . . . I’m going out with a coworker after . . . if that’s okay.”

“Do I know him?”

“Oh, it’s a girl. Me and a couple of girls are going to hang out.”

My father gave me the most bewildered look in the world, not helping my confidence at all. “And do what?”

“Whatever girls do.”

He laughed. “You have no idea what that is, do you?”

“Sure I do . . . sort of.”

“Well, try to at least look like you’re having fun.”

“Thanks.” I slid off the stool.

“What’s in the bag?” My dad pointed to the backpack I held at my side.

“Um . . . just . . . girl stuff. You know.”

He lowered his brow for a moment, then his eyes went wide. “Oh. Right. You got that covered? Everything good?”

I tried not to laugh. “Yep. All good.” My dad, trying to explain my period to me on that fateful day four years ago, was an experience I’ll never forget. He sounded like a science book. He fumbled through the technicalities, then bought me some pads and left me to myself. I had to read the instructions.

I exited the kitchen and crossed the living room. On my way out the front door, I slammed into Braden, who was coming in.

“Shoot,” I gasped, flying backward.

He grabbed hold of my arms, preventing me from falling. Something he would’ve never done pre–fence chat. He would’ve let me fall on my butt and then I would’ve tried to sweep his legs out from beneath him. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments and then he quickly released me. As if realizing he’d breached some unwritten rule, he grabbed my arm, bent down, and threw me over his shoulder.

Walking to the couch, he unceremoniously plopped me down on my back. “There. If you’re going to fall on your butt,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he said the word, “choose a better place.”

Instinct taking over, my hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist before he could walk away. This is where I would’ve placed a foot to his ribs or a head to his stomach and then felt like I had won. Instead, instinct didn’t follow through and I froze, lying on my back on the couch, holding his wrist. It was strong and familiar. His skin was lighter than mine, and I studied the way my fingers looked against his skin. Disengage, my brain yelled, this is Braden, Gage’s best friend, but my hand wouldn’t open.

A flicker of confusion passed across his face, then a softening of his brow, almost like he wanted to lean closer. But then he tightened his jaw and dropped an elbow down on my stomach. It wasn’t hard, but unexpected, so it knocked the wind out of me. I took a gasping breath of air, relief flooding through me.

“I think that’s two to zip, sistah,” he said, inches from my face, then stood up and walked away.

What was wrong with me? I silently thanked him for calling me his sistah. It reminded me of our history. Our years of history. I clenched and unclenched my hand. It felt hot. Every inch of me felt hot. I needed to stop the way my body was reacting to Braden lately. We were friends. Too close to ever want to explore these stupid new reactions and risk losing him forever. I stood and practically ran out of the house.



If I thought the previous week of makeup was bad, this week was nothing short of torturous. Two hours! I kept track this time. How could a person spend two hours working on my face? Granted, there were a lot of questions and much more makeup. I could see my eyelashes when I blinked. It was weird. But two hours? I could’ve played an entire basketball game in that time, with time-outs, halftime, foul shots, and everything.

Her friends from last week met us after the session was over.

“I’m going to wash my face,” I said, pointing toward the back. Maybe they would forget about me and leave while I was gone.

“No way. We are going out as the beauty queens we are,” Amber said, grabbing my arm. “You look amazing. Don’t touch my work of art.”

Or not.





Chapter 16

We sat in the corner booth of a café, drinking iced drinks and talking. Well, Amber the Olympic talker was doing most of the talking, but I was surprisingly entertained. And not just because a Cubs game was playing on the television mounted in the corner. We talked about the last books we’d read and the subjects at school we struggled in (math for me). I was actually able to contribute to those conversations. So maybe they weren’t much different from my teammates and me. Then we moved on to boys.

“I swear all they think about is food and sex,” Savannah said.

I laughed. “No. That’s not true. I have three brothers. They actually do have other thoughts.”