Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (45 page)

             “Yes,” I whimper, reaching my arm up so Skyler will
take my hand in his.

             “Sky?” he questions, needing one more piece to fully
comprehend this puzzle.

             “I told you I love her,” he calmly states.

            Sighing deeply, I hear Rex concede. “Then I guess I
’
ll have to get used to it.”

            The ESPN crew hangs around for the rest of the week
to capture more footage of me and Skyler in our games and at home. Luckily they
don
’
t catch our fight with Rex on camera, although it
would make for a great reality show on MTV. He asked if he could redo the
segment when Erin asked him what he thought of
Skyluzz
,
but he wouldn
’
t let me watch it. He said we
’
ll
see it when the whole feature airs.

            On Friday morning I wake up in Skyler
’
s
bed after having showered at my house the night before. Graciously he lets me
sleep in while he gets ready for school. I groggily roll over as he steps
outside of his closet in his varsity baseball jersey and khaki shorts.

             “Aw, you
’
re not going to wear
your baseball pants to school?” I tease, giggling at the image of him walking
down the hallway in those sexy, tight white pants.
Calm down, Bianca.

             “And have you get detention because of it and miss
your game? No fucking way,” Skyler chuckles. He waves the beauties in front of
me as he throws them into a gym bag by the door. “You
’
ll
have to come over and watch my game when yours ends to see me in these.”

             “Okaaay,” I fake whine, jumping to my feet. I prance
over to him and wrap my arms around his neck to reach up for a quick kiss. A
glance at the clock tells me that he let me sleep in a little later than
normal. When I release myself from him, he turns to exit his bedroom, like I
should meet him downstairs whenever I
’
m ready like every
other day. But I still need him for a second. “
Wait!
” I
call for him.

             “What? I
’
m going to go throw in
some toast,” he tells me, looking over his shoulder. This morning view of him,
his brown eyes gazing at me over his last name and number on his back, destroys
me. Everything about it makes me appreciate why I love him so much. Those eyes
are my greatest ally, and I have to believe that his number is lucky - for both
of us - or else Rex and the rest of the world wouldn
’
t
have let us remain together like we want.

            I quickly dash into Skyler
’
s
walk-in closet and come out with his old junior varsity mesh baseball jersey.

             “Can I wear this today?” I hope. I
’
ve
seen some other girls around school wearing other guys
’
jerseys
this week since they
’
re starting to play spring games.
Even though I have a game tonight, I
’
d rather wear his
jersey to school than mine - everyone knows I play softball. I just want to
show off that I
’
m supporting my
boyfriend
. Yes, I
’
m excited to scream it down the hallways and from the bleachers
at all of his games.
SKYLER SWANSON IS MY BOYFRIEND, AND I
’
M SO FUCKING PROUD OF IT!
I
think he
’
d like that mating call, right?

             “
Hmm, I don’
t know,” Skyler
answers, turning fully around and walking towards me wearing only a tank top
and shorts in his closet doorway. One of his hands slips between my arm holding
his other jersey and my side, landing on my lower back as he takes a step
closer.

             “You don
’
t know?” I tease him,
determining that that
’
s exactly what he
’
s
doing to me.

            With a somewhat hidden smile, he says, “Yeah, it
depends.”

             “Depends on what?” I banter, playfully raising my
eyebrows at him. In an attempt to ignore his hand making my body burst into
flames, I throw his jersey onto my shoulders, leaving my arms out of it for the
meantime.

             “Depends on if you
’
re wearing
it as my best friend or my girlfriend,” Skyler smoothly declares.

            Strike three, I
’
m
out.
How does he always know the right thing to say?

            Hoping to provide a good enough answer for his
swoon-worthy stipulation, I smile, giving myself away that he
’
s
won my heart seven times over. “What if I
’
m wearing it as
both?”
I wonder
. My heart is racing around the bases in my
chest. His eyes brighten, alerting me that he approves of my question as my
answer. “Just because I
’
m your girlfriend doesn
’
t mean I
’
m not your best friend anymore.
You
’
re a lot more to me than just a boyfriend.” I blush.
That came out a lot more vulnerable than it sounded in my head.

             “I was teasing. Of course you can wear my jersey.” He
plays it off like I didn
’
t just pour my heart out to him
at seven in the morning. My mouth is agape in disbelief.
Really?
Just as
I think he
’
s actually turning around to grab his bag and
go downstairs, his expression extremely light and unwavering, he leans down and
whispers in my ear, “You
’
re more than just my fucking
girlfriend, too, sweetheart,”
and kisses my cheek.
“I
’
ll wait for you downstairs, B.”

            What a tease, Skyler saying something like that and
then leaving me with only a kiss on my cheek. Torture. Beautiful, blissful
torture.

            After school Skyler has a spring game at the same
time that I have one of my regular season conference games. They both happen to
be at home, but it still means he won
’
t be in my dugout.
Because of this, McCallum planned it out so that I won
’
t
pitch this game since my pitching coach isn
’
t there.
Instead, he lets me play second base for the first time all season. Usually I
’
m just the designated hitter, but with ESPN here, Coach wants
to spotlight my versatility.

            After we ten-run rule our opponent in the fourth
inning, I grab my bag and walk over to the baseball field to watch the rest of
Skyler
’
s game.

            That
’
s when I notice scouts in
the bleachers taking notes on almost every single play. I decide to attempt a
long shot in reading their clipboards by taking a seat two rows behind them.
Skyler
’
s name appears on at least two of them that I can
see, so I look at the scouts
’
attire to determine where
they are from: UW Oshkosh and Southern Illinois.

             “Bianca Ferrari?” I hear a strong male voice call my
name from behind me. I spin around to see another scout who apparently knows
me. I guess my last name is on my jersey, but still.
I should
’
ve thrown Skyler
’
s JV
one back on after my game.

             “Yes?” I question. His shirt says Alabama, but I
can't believe it. Why would someone from across the country be in Hinsdale,
Illinois on a Friday evening?

             “I
’
m Pat Murphy, head coach of
the Alabama softball team,” he introduces himself. “Mind if we have a chat?”
Holy
shit. This is real? Someone from across the country wants to recruit me? And it
’
s a head coach - not a scout. He looks way different in
person and sounds way more southern than I thought he would.

             “Sure,” I wearily reply even though I really want to
watch this game! Sky is catching right now; I just want to see his ass in his
baseball pants. My priorities are still of a young teenage girl, not an ESPN
top softball recruit.

            When I hop off the bleachers, I notice a few more
people from schools around the country are huddled up and, I guess, waiting for
me.
Okay, I guess I
’
m not watching the
rest of this inning
.

             “You ran off so fast after the game none of us got
to talk to you,” Pat chuckles. It wasn
’
t a coincidence. I
hate the spotlight and care way more about watching baseball than I do talking
to old people.

             “Sorry. I just wanted to catch the end of this game,”
I enlighten them with an embarrassed smile. I look over my shoulder and see the
guys are coming into the dugout to hit. I have no idea where they are in the
lineup so I don
’
t know if Rex, Skyler, or Benny are
hitting soon or not. This baseball game means just as much to me as my own
game; my brother, boyfriend, and one of my best friends all play on this team.
It
’
s too bad the scouts aren
’
t here
to watch me watch a baseball game.

            There are scouts or coaches (whoever they are) from
Missouri, Tennessee, UW Oshkosh, and St. Cloud, as well as Pat from Alabama,
standing before me. I
’
m instantly overwhelmed and am
confused how I
’
m still in the spotlight until I see the ESPN
cameras behind the coaches. I
’
m being recruited because
ESPN is here.

            I play along and answer their questions as truthfully
as I can; I don
’
t know what my plans are for college since
I
’
m only a sophomore. Yes, my family will factor into my
decision. No, I don
’
t have a favorite softball team
besides the USA Olympics team.

           
I don’
t get to see the finish of
the boys
’
game, which kind of upsets me. As soon as I hear
the audience clapping to sound the end of it, I excuse myself from the coaches
and scouts so I can go greet my man. I walk up to the side fence that comes up
to about my chest and wait for him to come over.

             “Hey, you,” I smirk, leaning over the fence.

             “Hey,” Skyler replies back. In front of all of our
recruits, coaches, teammates, family, and friends, he kisses me over the fence.
I feel like I hit a home run the way he gently, yet passionately, claims me as
his at our favorite place in the world. It
’
s my favorite
kiss that we
’
ve ever shared, mostly because it
’
s on a baseball field. It feels good to do it in fresh, open
air with whoever we don
’
t care watching.

             “Gross. Get a room,” I hear my brother
’
s
sarcastic chuckle coming from behind Skyler and feel a jolt as he throws his
glove. It must
’
ve hit Skyler in the back because he
twitched and drew our lips apart.

             “Let me come around,” Skyler offers. I let him grab
his bag and meet me at the bottom of one set of bleachers next to the ones with
his scouts residing on it.

            I pretty much forget about the scouts here to see me
because I don
’
t want to think about college yet, and I
’
m convinced that having a southern accent would make me sound
stupid. That automatically rules out Alabama, no matter how good of a softball
team they have.

            When Skyler approaches me again, he sets his bag next
to my feet and asks, “Why the sour face?” It must be my thinking face with all
the crazy thoughts running through my head. All of these scouts are riling me
up. I didn
’
t even realize I was scowling until he said
something. “Are you not excited to go to the cabin this weekend?” he asks me.

            My whole body goes rigid, like an alarm is ringing
for me to get out of this place. Unfortunately, it
’
s not
that easy. The ESPN feature requires some time spent at the cabin since that
’
s where my accident occurred.

             “I
’
m not wake-boarding. It
’
s too cold,” I shiver as my excuse rolls off my tongue. He
gives me an understanding glance. We both know my first time back on the water
will not be with a worldwide audience and camera crew. Now I know what reality
TV show stars feel like. Looking up at him, I inform him, “And that
’
s not why I was upset. It was because those scouts are here to
see you.”

             “And?” he questions further. He had to know they
were coming, unlike me who was totally blindsided. He
’
s
taking off his cleats and switching to sandals, acting like this isn
’
t an important conversation. It
’
s
recruitment season for him; he
’
s a junior. At this time
next year he
’
ll already have his decision made about
college.

             “And they
’
re from across the
country,” I state firmly, dropping my head into my hands.

             “
Hey, come here,
” Skyler orders
me in his sexy raspy voice that can make me do anything. It
’
s
the voice he only uses when he has something serious to say with me, no one
else. I let him pull me into his chest as I wrap my arms around his waist. “This
guy is from Oshkosh. It
’
s only across the state border.”