Collide Into You: A Romantic Gender Swap Love Story (22 page)

How do I look at Dillan?
I thought I was pretty good at the
he disgusts me
look.

I do
not
say the exact opposite of how I feel about Dillan. And if his name
is
mentioned, which it hardly ever is, I feel like vomiting.

The TV blares to life. Tanner hands me a game controller. It has like fifty buttons.
Oh no.
 

On the TV, the
NFL Pro
seal spins around until Tanner touches a button. It flies out of view and a roster of teams lines up. Dillan’s name is in the upper right whereas Tanner’s is in the upper left.

“Anyway,” Tanner says, finishing his beer. “As much as I love her, I’m not here to talk about Keira. I don’t want to do that to you, especially when she’s out on a date with someone else. I’m feeling lucky about tonight.”

“Why’s that?” I’m inspecting the controller as if it has an engraved set of instructions on the side of it. No such luck. I knew I should have played video games with Jon growing up.

“You seem out of sorts tonight. So, being the good friend I am, I plan on taking advantage of the situation and kicking your ass in
NFL Pro
.”

I find it a little bit ironic that a MLB shortstop plays NFL video games.

Dillan

T
HANKFULLY
,
THE
BATTING
CAGES
ARE
indoors. Not long after we arrive, it begins to pour heavily outside. Alec explains how the cages work, and it isn’t long until balls are flying at me. While I’m not anywhere near professional level, I’ve played ball for a good portion of my life, and with Keira’s athletic build, I’m hitting more balls than not.

Honestly, I’m having a ton of fun just goofing off and hanging out with Alec. It feels less like a date and more like an activity gathering. I’m surprised no one has bothered Alec for autographs and such. Other than the clerk behind the desk when we entered, no one has so much as looked at us.

“You have a powerful swing, Keira,” Alec says from the cage next to mine. “Even though you are a runner, your upper body strength is impressive.”

“Thanks,” I say, as if I can take all the credit.
 

“I’m going to increase the pitch speed for you.” He makes a few changes on the electrical box in my cage. “It may be tough to see the ball at first, so be careful. I want to see what you can do.” Alec moves back to his cage and watches.

The ball flies and I see it, and swing, too late. As the ball whizzed by, the
whoosh
tone was higher. Another comes. Then another. On the seventh or eighth ball, I finally connect. It’s harder on my hands and the vibration from the bat flows up my arms and into my shoulders. I get a few more hits in before the pitches run out.

“Wow,” I say once the sequence is done. “That was intense. How fast were those pitches?”

“Sixty miles per hour.”

That didn’t seem like much.

“How fast are your pitches?” I ask.

“Well,” he says, looking up as if to check an invisible scorecard. “My fastballs are anywhere between eighty and eighty-five. I’ve had a few over ninety, but that’s an exception. Curveballs are slower, and I think I clock in around seventy-eight miles per hour on those. Knuckleballs are trickier to calculate. If I had to guess, and if a pretty lady just so happened to ask me that question, then I might be forced to say I’m in the mid-sixty range for a knuckleball.”

I’m man-crushing right now. First the car. Now this.

“Impressive,” I say, though I keep my tone neutral. I don’t want to gush like a schoolgirl.

Alec just smiles.

We return the equipment to an attendant and head back to Alec’s car.

“I had a good time,” he says once we are both buckled in.

“Me too. I haven’t played baseball in a while.” I realize the slip too late.

“When did you play baseball, Keira?”

“Uh…”
Think quick, Dillan.
“The Army will sometimes put together those corny confidence-building activities. We’ve played baseball a time or two.”

“I can see that. Sounds cool that you get to do that from time to time. It’s just nice to spend time with you, Keira. I feel like you’re someone I can talk to. Travel and hardships and people thinking they know you based on the uniform you wear.”

“Like how you can’t be someone
other
than an MLB pitcher?”

“Yes, exactly. You must be able to relate. When people see you in your military uniform, they only see one facet of you and yet, somehow, it defines you. Doesn’t it feel so suffocating?”

“Yes,” I say slowly. Am I guilty of the same thing when I look at Keira, or, for that matter, Alec Huffman? I see a rich ball player who has every privilege at his fingertips. “The uniform…” I hesitate.
How can I possibly speak for Keira on this subject?
“The uniform is tradition, it’s honor, and, whether I like it or not, it’s symbolic. Symbolic of war. Of freedom. Of hardships. But it’s more than that. It’s the colors of a brother- and sisterhood, of teammates who have your back in any given situation. Yes, it gives someone a quick snapshot of who you are. Your name, your rank, and what branch of the military you serve in. But the uniform and the items pinned onto it are not exclusive to just me. It’s a part of who I am, but not
every
part of who I am.”

While I spoke, it felt like a part of Keira was talking through me. Like I somehow knew the right things to say just now, and I cannot explain it whatsoever. When I finally look to see where we are on the road, I find that we are parked outside my apartment building.

“That was beautiful, Keira,” Alec says. He turns off the car’s ignition. “I understand. When people—fans, journalists—see me, all they see is the jersey. The team logo. Who I’m dating. How much my contract is worth. What my statistics are for the year. For the last five years. Am I a good bet. I’m a business machine
within
the business machine, and I’ll only be included in that machine for as long as I’m successful within it. No one ever says it, but the minute you enter the MLB, or even the minors, someone puts an expiration date on you. Most of the time it’s a self-inflicted expiration date. Some days, Keira, I’m telling you, it feels like there’s a tourniquet somewhere on my body tightening just as another one loosens. Give. Take. Win. Lose. Somewhere along the way, I lost what I loved about playing ball. I know that being in the military is not the same thing as playing for the majors. For one thing, the pay scale is completely out of whack. But when I asked you to go out with me, and you gave me the one condition of visiting the wounded soldiers, I knew that you would understand how I felt. You didn’t ask for anything flippant or frivolous. You asked for something selfless and heartfelt. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since last night. I want you to know that this year, this season, I’m playing in honor of wounded warriors everywhere and I plan to pledge my entire salary, minus adequate living expenses, to them.”

I open my mouth to say something, to thank him. But I had nothing to do with it. I could never take credit for that. I just happen to temporarily own the face of the woman who should be sitting here right now, hearing this.

With just one meeting with the rich ball player, she somehow got him to realize that there was something bigger than him out there and he planned to put his money where his mouth was.
 

My insides pinch and tighten.
 

When do I get to see this side of her? Oh, right, I think. This is Ellen’s way of allowing me to see it. Of allowing me to see what I missed the first time around.

Keira

T
ANNER
GLARES
AT
ME
FROM
time to time. Actually, he seems to be looking at me a lot more than he does at the game. It certainly doesn’t help that I keep pushing every button possible on the game controller while giving him sideways glances in the off chance that he isn’t noticing. He does. After a few minutes, my fingers begin to go numb. My stupid quarterback keeps throwing the ball into the stands and I’ve managed to hit one of the digital cheerleaders.
 

I’m pretty sure Dillan wouldn’t do that.

“You’ve restarted the game four times, Dillan,” Tanner says finally with a loud sigh. “It didn’t think it was possible, but you have succeeded in deleting a year’s worth of game data.” He puts the controller on the coffee table, stands up, and gets another beer. “And I had an effin’ brilliant roster, too,” he says, and downs most of the beer. “You are not yourself tonight, Dillan.”

I look up sharply. There’s no way he could possibly guess the true reason for my look, but it almost seems like he can tell I’m not Dillan. Oh, he’d never suspect I’m Keira. Why would he? But I can’t act like Keira, and I have no idea of how to act like Dillan.
 

“So let’s talk about it,” Tanner says, and sits back down. He turns to me carefully, as if he plans to crush my depressed spirit, as if it’s for my own good. “I can tell you’re mad at me.”

“What?” I didn’t expect Tanner to say that. Why would Dillan be mad at Tanner? Oh, right. He set Keira up with Alec. Dillan is, supposedly, in love with Keira. I feel like rolling my eyes at that one.

“I know that the last month has been tough on you,” Tanner says softly. “With Jon gone, I know you miss him, and having Keira here probably doesn’t help.”

I almost feel like crying. I—the real Keira—miss my brother more than anything. Dillan, on the other hand, was just a roommate. Just a friend. Why should I care how Dillan feels about my brother being deployed? And why is Tanner apologizing?

Tanner keeps talking. “And I know you think I stole him from you.”
 

I study his handsome Asian-American face and then the white medical tape on his wrist. He’s had a tough road. If anyone could possibly understand what Dillan and I are going through, I have a feeling Tanner wouldn’t even blink an eye.

“Stole him? From me? I don’t think that,” I say, louder than I probably needed to. “Jon’s my brother.” I amend the statement when Tanner gives me an odd look. “Jon is
like
a brother to me. I only want him to be happy. And the two of you…well, you’re soul mates. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

“It wasn’t always that way,” Tanner says simply. “He was in love with you for a long time, Dillan.” I sit back, stunned. I finish the beer as I think about that.
My brother….in love with Dillan?
“I know this isn’t news to you, but you didn’t know that I knew. Strange,” Tanner says, shaking his head. “For some reason, I feel like I can open up to you tonight. He hated that you never wanted him. Jon thought that if he was patient enough, if he loved you enough, if you realized that the women you slept with didn’t mean anything to you, that you’d see him—the real him—and fall madly in love.”

Dillan

T
HERE
’
S
A
PAUSE
,
A
BREATH
, and it takes me a second to realize Alec is coming in for a kiss.

I turn sideways in just enough time, and his lips gently land on my cheek.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face red. But not nearly as red as my face.
If Keira finds out…
“I shouldn’t have done that,” Alec says. His tone is still apologetic. He must not be used to being rejected. That goes for both of us. I find it nearly hysterical that the two men who can probably get any woman they want both want the one woman they can’t actually have.

Keira.

Well, I knew my fate. Alec, on the other hand, might have a chance. If he goes through with visiting the wounded soldiers, she’ll see the side of him that I got to see tonight. As much as I would love to sabotage that, it would probably be the worst thing I could ever do. To her. To Alec. To the wounded soldiers. I’m a dick, but I’m not
that
much of a dick.

“It’s okay,” I tell Alec once he moves back to his side of the car. The car is small and we aren’t that far from each other. Our shoulders almost nearly touch. “It’s just that I don’t…ah…” I trail off.

“Kiss on the first date?”

“Correct.” Keira doesn’t let me kiss boys on the first date. It’s so absurd that I nearly laugh out loud, but Alec would never understand and I have no interest in wounding his pride.

Alec smiles. I ignore the dimples in his cheek. I should never notice such things. Keira would notice. Not me.

“I know that most people go out on dates on the weekend,” Alec says. “But I have an away series coming up Thursday. Can we get together Monday night?”

I try to think of something fast. What would Keira agree to? Would she say yes, or no? And not just that, what would Keira want me to say in her place?

I want to say no, because that’s what I would want her to say, but I can’t say no because I’m then controlling her life. And that’s a big no-no with Keira. I can’t say yes because the longer Alec is interested in Keira, the crazier this whole thing is going to get. Plus, by saying yes, I’m still controlling her life. I can’t win.

I, on the other hand, actually want to hang out with this really cool MLB pitcher.

“Yes,” I say without too much eagerness. I don’t want to seem desperate. “If you want to come over, I can cook us a meal. And…” I wonder if he likes video games. “And we can play video games. I—uh—Dillan has a huge TV. I haven’t played in a while. Are you interested?” This way, it’s low key, he can drink my beer, and we can hang out like guys.
 

There’s totally nothing romantic about any of that.

“I’d love to, Keira,” Alec says.

Keira

“I
HAD
NO
IDEA
,” I say. I’m speaking for both myself
and
Dillan in this statement.

Tanner nods understandingly. I can’t believe my brother was in love with Dillan. Is that why he declared Dillan couldn’t be so bad if they were best friends? Was he just waiting for Dillan to change his mind? To, what, realize that he was gay? Or to realize that he’d never find someone who loved him more than Jon Holtslander?