Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (33 page)

             “Fuck no,”
he doesn
’
t even let me finish my inaccurate thought. All this time… I
had no idea that Skyler and I were holding out for each other. “I waited for
you; I
’
ve always been waiting for you.”

            I
’
m beyond overwhelmed. The only
way to channel this energy is to kiss him. I reach up for him, and our lips
connect, but there
’
s an understanding that we
’
re done with the physical advancements for the night.

             “But you didn
’
t want to hit a
grand slam tonight,” I say in a joking tone despite being completely serious
when we break apart. I was on first base, and I wanted to score, too.

             “I
’
m sorry,” he apologizes,
completely heartfelt. “I fucking promise we
’
ll do it
another night. Soon. But there
’
s no rush; this isn
’
t a race.” A kiss soothes my forehead as we lie side by side,
and I know this amazing night is over because I
’
m already
aching for him to come back. I roll over to face away from him as I anticipate
his departure.

             “Are you leaving now? To go back downstairs?” I
assume. God there
’
s nothing worse than fooling around with
a guy and him leaving the second it
’
s over. I know that
lonely rejected feeling all too well, but I
’
ve also
learned to expect it and accept it. Plus there
’
s a pretty
good chance my mom or others residing in the house will chop off Skyler
’
s balls if they find him in my bed tomorrow morning.

             “Fuck no,” he tells me, tightening his arm around my
waist again, almost taking my breath away.

             “Sky… you know the rule,” I remind him, curling over
my shoulder to see his determined eyes.

             “Fuck the rule. I
’
m
not
leaving you after tonight,” he promises.

           
I don’
t argue with him after
that. I just let him hold me as
his
for the first time, and I feel a
sense of urgency and possessiveness in him that makes me feel exhilarated in a
new way, an amazing way.

            He slithers his way closer to me and whispers, “You
called me Skyler.”

             “I know,” I admit, biting my lip to keep from
giggling. I want to try distinguishing between being best friends in public and
best friends in private. After closing my eyes and resting into his hold on me,
I think aloud, “It
’
s crazy to think that our only options
in the future are to break up or get married.”

             “Our only option is to get married. I said that
before,” he reminds me with a squeeze that makes me jump. It definitely felt
like he was going to tickle me.

             “I know… but it
’
s still crazy
to think about,” I tell him. I
’
m only sixteen. The idea of
growing up is still so massive to me, but at seventeen Skyler seems so certain.

            The smell of fresh pancakes wakes me up the next
morning, and I know Skyler and I have slept in for too long. We
’
re
going to have to bullshit some story about why he is up here so early when no
one has seen him in six hours.

             “Sky,” I whisper, lifting my head while the rest of
me still curves into his body. We
’
ve slept in the same bed
countless nights in recent weeks, but waking up to him this morning is
different. We
’
re together now.

             “It
’
s too early,” he grumbles
into my hair. It
’
s the first thing he says to me every
single morning I wake up at his house, and usually it makes me laugh. In this
instance, I know we are about to be toast for breakfast.

             “Sky, we aren
’
t at your house,”
I caution him.

             “Fuck, that
’
s right,” he
recalls, dragging his hand across my waist and stopping once he reaches the end
of the t-shirt. Slithering his hand underneath it and onto my cold skin, he
adds, “But you are in my shirt, aren
’
t you?”

            My breath catches as he nears my boob, but he somehow
refrains from touching it. This is torturous. “Yes… do you want it back?”
I wonder. It
’
s one of his Red Devil
baseball shirts that only the players have from one of their conference
tournaments. It’s a dead giveaway to everyone that something happened last
night between me and Sky if they see me wearing it.

             “No. You look sexy as fuck in it,” he compliments
me.

            My chest tingles at my lifelong crush and now
boyfriend
calling me sexy as fuck. I
’
m not sure I
’
ll
ever get used to this.

            Then he sighs in major disgust. “But throw a
sweatshirt over it for now because we have to go downstairs and put on a killer
sitcom so our asses don
’
t get grounded. Gimme one of your
Rockets shirts to wear.”

            We embrace problem-solving mode rather quickly, and
after we are both dressed in apparel that appears to be our own even though
we
know they aren
’
t, I start to follow Skyler towards the
door. He hesitates to open it. I watch him spin around and reach one of his
hands to the back of my head to give me a mini massage. I
’
m
loving this head massage thing he
’
s still
doing.

             “You
’
re fucking beautiful when
you wake up, you know that?” he flatters me.

            He
’
s seen me wake up numerous
times and never commented on my appearance before. I haven
’
t
touched my hair, but I can still smell the hairspray in it so I
’
m
fairly certain it doesn
’
t look too different from last
night at the dance. My makeup is completely off, some probably smeared since I
never get it all the way off, but I can feel that it doesn
’
t
matter. He
’
s seeing more than just my physical beauty.

            He just called me sexy as fuck and beautiful in a
matter of being awake for not even five minutes. I must still be dreaming.

            My cheeks heat from all the feelings he just used to
overwhelm me as I politely say, “Thank you,” reaching for the bottom of my
shirt he is wearing. It
’
s so tight on him, but it
’
s the biggest Rockets
’
shirt that I own.
They were last Rockets when I was fourteen.

            He leans in and places a kiss on my forehead, and it makes
a chill shoot down my head to my spine. “You
’
re mine now,
Buzz,” he reminds me as if I could have forgotten our initiation of becoming a
kind of official couple last night. We
’
re
still a secret so it
’
s a little weird, but his
possessive statement assures me. When I tilt my head up at him he
’
s
like the night sky in the middle of a country field - overwhelmingly filled
with brightness and making me so happily lost in the sight.

             “Okay,” I reply stupidly. And then to my surprise he
pushes the back of my head so our lips meet for an elongated kiss; it
’
s really a mini make out session. When we pull apart I question
him, “What was that for?”

             “That was in case I don
’
t get
to kiss you for a while… ya know, if we get in trouble,” he answers.

             “Us against them, who wins?” I grin slyly.

             “Us, every time,” he tells me with his one-of-a-kind
Skyler half-assed smolder as he pinches my waist to kick start our departure.

            I follow him out my door and into the hallway to our
grand staircase. I have slid down this so many times on Sunday mornings just so
I can be the first one to my dad
’
s pancake breakfast. When
I grab the railing, it creaks and immediately gives me away to Skyler.

             “B, no,” he scolds, stepping near the railing and
guiding me away from it. I think he
’
s the only person I
ever consider listening to when he tells me “no”, probably because it
’
s a rare occurrence compared to everyone else.

             “I
’
ve done it before. I just
want to make a grand entrance,” I whine.

             “To what, the golden gates? If you don
’
t
want to walk, hop on my back and I
’
ll carry you,” he
proposes. It
’
s a compromise that makes me happy, so I grab
his shoulders, make him turn back around, and jump up onto his back. I forget
we
’
re on the stairs, so he stumbles forward and catches
himself on the next one as I giggle and hold on tightly. “Jesus,” he groans,
reaching one arm out to hold onto the railing and the other to hold onto me.

            At the bottom of the stairs Sky lets me down, and
when we appear in the kitchen, only my dad is in the room cooking. H
e doesn
’
t even see us as we enter. My mom
must still be sleeping like she usually does on weekends. No one else is in
sight.

             “
Did we miss breakfast?
” I ask,
startling my dad by the stove. He jumps and makes a Tom Cruise in Risky
Business move across the hardwood floor using the spatula as his microphone.

             “No. You
’
re early. Go wake up
everyone else,” he orders in a song.

            His eyebrows raise to us since we haven
’
t
moved, spoken, or applauded his show. So Skyler and I exchange a weary look.
Did
we really just get away with this? This was too easy.

            Calling everyone for breakfast from the top of the
stairs is less stressful than facing a roomful of our somewhat unforgiving
friends and siblings without a buffer. Pancakes and my dad are serving as such
this morning, and I
’
m so thankful.

            Baylee and Tiffany take the lead from the basement
and into the kitchen, claiming seats on either side of me. Skyler approaches
the table carefully, completely preparing for the ambush we expect. Everyone
takes seats like usual: girls on one side of the table, the boys weighing down
the other, besides Leah who has to be glued to Rex
’
s side. I
’
m nervous for Skyler. Last time
we were ambushed separately, we didn
’
t talk for a week. He
glances up at me and gives me a quick wink before appeasing Rex, Benny, and Sam
who start a conversation with him. I instantly feel better.

            My mind drifts back to being in bed with Skyler. His
remaining Luke Bryanesque cologne lingering in the air, his breath on my bare
skin, his hands caressing me like a Victoria
’
s Secret
commercial. Such a luxurious daydream, and then BAM!

             “Bianca!” Tiffany shrieks, shaking me back to
reality.
Damn it, Tiff.

             “What? What
’
s your problem?” I
ask. I feel a knot in my stomach for wording my response so rudely. But I still
get nauseous when someone yells in such close proximity to me.

             “
Hey, don’
t yell at her,” Skyler
scolds Tiffany, immediately tailing my reaction to her shouting my name. He
’
s pissed. And it makes Rex and Sam stop talking for a moment to
look at what Skyler is freaking out about.

             “She was staring right at me but wasn
’
t
responding,” she mumbles angrily at him. Their sibling-like banter always
provides for great entertainment, but her attitude flips when it
’
s
my turn. She looks at me and quietly replies, “
Never mind.
”

             “No, what? I
’
m
sorry. My mind just drifted,
” I apologize, trying not to look at Skyler
who I see out of the corner of my eye. He
’
s totally
fucking trying to hide his boyish smirk. He knows exactly where I let my mind
go.

             “I just wanted to know if you had fun last night.
You were so quiet,” Tiffany asks me, a chunk of her bright blonde hair falling
in front of her face as she leans over to eat a pancake.

             “I was making up for the music being so loud,”
I chuckle.
“I had fun though.”

            Leah
’
s eyes continually ping
pong around the room like she
’
s nervous to be here. I
’
m beginning to wonder if she
’
ll ever try
to fit in with us when she blurts out, “So Bianca, where did you and Skyler run
off to last night?”

            Really?! No one even freaking noticed we left or were
gone this morning, and the dumb bitch has to bring it up? Unbelievable.
Everyone stops talking to focus on my answer. I don
’
t even
look in the direction of all the boys staring at me.

             “Skyler took me to my room so I wouldn
’
t
get kicked in the head in the middle of the night,” I tell her, which I have to
imagine was his actual reason for carrying me two flights of stairs - not to
fool around with me like we ended up doing.

             “I do tend to be kind of wild when I sleep,” Tiffany
backs me up, furthering the truth behind my story. She owes Skyler and me from
last night when she interrupted our conversation at the dance about being
together. I
’
m a little surprised though; she knows we
’
re “together” and hasn
’
t blabbed yet. W
e don’
t even have a deal with her to keep quiet. I need to
remember to make one.