Summer Swing (12 page)

I sat parked in front of his house for a minute, trying to decide what to do. I actually didn’t even feel like heading for the grocery store, so I just decided to be lazy and order pizza instead.
I knew anything was fine with Gage, so I made my way into the house to find a phone book.

I guess I didn’t even consider anyone else being in the house, so
when
I sat at the kitchen counter and put in my order for delivery, I almost fell off the stool when a guy came out of the back bedroom. He was just wearing a pair of shorts,
and as I recognized the tattoo
on his shoulder and
the other one on his
upper arm,
I also noticed a smaller one on the left side of his chest.

I quickly finished up my order on the phone.

It was strange how everything kind of came together at once, and as I pictured this guy stepping out of a car that had just hit me in a parking lot, I also recalled who else was
supposed to be
staying in Wyatt’s house. I had to look him over very carefully because this guy did not look at all like the
pitcher
that was supposed to be
living
with Gage.

He was eyeing me funny too, but he didn’t say anything as he came into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I knew that I had maneuvered myself
out
of the kitchen at the same time, and I could tell he realized that. Finally he faced me and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not in a car with a lunatic driver.”

I
only
stared at him for a moment, and just from hearing him speak confirmed that he really was the same guy. First
I
recognized
the tattoos
, second was his admittance to being in the car, but third was just the sound of his voice.

“Um…”

“Gage isn’t here,” he said. “But I’m sure you already know that.”

“Uh…”

He finally cracked a tiny little smirk at the corner of his mouth when he said, “I’m pretty sure you talk because you had a lot to say a couple of weeks ago.”

I kind of scoffed. “
Why don’t
you
get hit by a car and see how you like it.”

“Nah, I pr
obably wouldn’t.” He wandered into the family room and dropped onto the couch. “How is your leg doing, by the way? You seem to get around okay.”

I eyed him for a few seconds before I said, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

He was quiet for a
moment, like he was thinking
. “I’m
really
sorry about that,” he finally said
, and he seemed
very
sincere about it
. “Nate really is a moron, and I tell him that almost every day. He didn’t
actually
believe me until
you
said it to him. Now he’s finally starting to ask himself the really deep questions.”

I almost smiled. “So who’s Nate?” I asked. I joined him in the family room but remained standing. 

“Oh, just a buddy
.”

A prison buddy
?
I almost asked.

“He gave me a ride up here,” he added.

“From California?”

He gave me a curious look. “Uh, yeah.” He downed the rest of his water and stood from the couch. “Your boyfriend’s home,” he said
casually
. And with that he disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.

Gage
was
home, but I hadn’t even heard him pull in. I had to shake myself out of the weird realization that had all come together—the parking lot incident, the loner baseball pitcher, and now the ex-con/pitcher living in the same house as my boyfriend.
But Gage was happy to see me, so that
became
the
highlight of my day
, and I put all
the
other
thoughts aside
.

The house began to fill up by the time the pizza was delivered. I met Wes for the first time when he returned from hanging out with two other teammates, bringing them in with him. I invited them to stay because I’d ordered
four
pizzas, thinking that Wyatt and Gage and the two other ball players could handle that pretty well. Plus leftovers were always welcomed in the house. But I didn’t foresee any leftovers this time with six guys
being there
.

When everyone had pretty much filled their plates and grabbed drinks, they gathered in the family room and made an audience
for the television
. I noticed that there was one guy missing from the group
though
, and while I was standing in the kitchen with Gage
,
I asked if his other roommate wanted to eat with us.

He kind of chuckled. “No, probably not.”

“What do you mean? It’s pizza. Every guy eats pizza.”

“I doubt that’s the problem,” he smiled. “He just keeps to himself, Ellie. No need to bother a guy that doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“Well maybe you should just go ask him. It can’t hurt to ask, can it?”

He slightly raised an eyebrow.
“That might be up for debate. But w
hy don’t
you
go ask him,” he seemed to smirk. “I’ve tried a dozen times, but maybe you’d have better luck.”

“Uh, I’d rather not,” I replied. “But if you’re not going to then maybe I will.”

He sighed. “Fine, I’ll go ask him.” He set his plate on the counter and made his way to the extra bed
room. He knocked and said, “Hey
Tyse, you hungry? We’ve got pizza
.” He waited for a response but didn’t seem to get one, and shrugged at me as if to sa
y, “See? T
old you
so
.”

Gage grabbed his food and sat down on the c
ouch, but I couldn’t just let it go
. Why would a guy be so set on sitting in his room all day when there were people to hang out with, pizza to eat, and
ESPN
?

While the guys were busy watching TV, I knocked on Tyse’s door myself. Through the noise of the
family room
I couldn’t hear anything behind the door even if I tried, but I knocked again, a little bit louder.
It was risky, but I cracked it
open to peek inside the room.

At first I didn’t see anything—a few boxes stacked against the wall, then a dresser, then a few more boxes, then the foot of a bed… As I opened the door a little further I cautiously stuck my head inside to view the rest of the room. Tyse was sitting on the bed with his back to the door, still in just a pair of shorts. In his hand
s
was a guitar, and he seemed to be playing it, but I didn’t hear any sound. That’s when I noticed he had on a pair of headphones, and they were plugged in to an amplifier.

So he sat in his room and played his guitar all day, huh? That didn’t seem too bad. At least he wasn’t plotting a bank heist or dealing drugs on the street corner.

I realized that it was really awful of me to think such thoughts, so I quickly dismissed them.

I took a deep breath to muster up some courage and made my way further into the room. I knew the worst thing I could probably do was to startle him—I
envisioned
him breaking my arm as he threw the intruder to the ground—so I circled around the bed the furthest from him
that I could. He startled anyway the second he saw me, and he didn’t look too happy that I’d entered his lair. But all he did was take off the headphones and flip a switch on the amplifier.

“I’m sorry,” I said right away, “but you didn’t seem to hear anyone at the door.”

He didn’t respond and only stared at me at first. Finally he got up from the bed and set the guitar on a chair, pushing the amplifier into the corner with his foot. “So what can I do for you?” he asked as he faced me.

I was tempted to ask him to put a shirt on—staring at his bare ch
est was a little intimidating
—but I was the one in
his
room, and had no right to do so.

“Um, you can come out and eat some pizza,” I replied. “There’s a lot.”

He paused briefly before
replying
, “
No
, but thanks anyway.”

“Why not?”

He paused again and looked me over. It made me feel self-conscious, like he was undressing me with his eyes or something.

“T
hey send a female messenger to see if it gets a better response?” He shook his head slightly and added, “I’m not hungry.”

“Well I don’t know what that little remark is supposed to mean, but I came here by my own choice. I just wanted to feed you. Sorry
I
bother
ed
you.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond and I
left the room, closing the door behind me. I was really agitated with him, but do you know
what I did
when I returned to the kitchen? I piled several slices of pizza onto a plate, covered it with foil, and shoved it to the back of the refrigerator for him in case he changed his mind.

I joined Gage in the family room and tried to forget about his recluse of a roommate. I wasn’t surprised when
Tyse
never did come out of his room to mingle with us, but I still wondered what his deal w
as. I tried to think back on the past ten days, to that Monday
when
I saw
him
for the first time. He must have just arrived in town that night, with his cellmate of a buddy that brought him up from California.
He’d had on shorts and a tank top, and he’d set his sunglasses on top of his
head
when he asked if I was okay.
I couldn’t believe he was the same guy I felt
sorry for on Gage’s team.
The baseball uniform completely changed his appearance, from the hat on his head to the sleeves that
covered
his tattoos. I had no idea that it was even the same guy!

The house became quiet around
nine
o’clock. Wes and h
is other two teammates left
for a while
, and Wyatt went to bed early because he had to get up for work at five. Dawn was working a swing shift for the week, so that was the reason she wasn’t over, but Gage and I took up the couch in the front room to enjoy some time with just the two of us.
We watched a movie, but mainly we spent the time talking and cuddling with one another.

By the end of the movie
,
we were stretched out on the couch together and Gage was asleep. I left him where he was and just watched the news for a little bit
before I was going to head home
.

Then I heard a door open at the back of the house, and someone entered the kitchen. I knew it was Tyse because Wes wasn’t home yet, and I wondered if he’d just gotten hungry enough to raid the refrigerator. All I heard was the water running in the sink though, and I was too curious to not check it out. It felt ridiculous that I was expecting to spy on him in the kitchen, but he saw me just as I saw him.

He had a few plastic water bottles that were now full, and it appeared like he had just refilled them from the sink. He dried them off with a towel and found a place for them in the fridge.
At least he was dressed in a t-shirt and some baggy sweatpants, so I didn’t feel as uncomfortable around him anymore.

“Are you hungry yet?” I finally asked him.

He slightly shrugged but didn’t
speak
. He was about to shut the refrigerator door but I stopped it with my hand.

“I saved you some pizza if you want it,” I told him. “I don’t know what kind you like but there’s a piece from each kind we had.” I set the plate on the counter and uncovered it.

He didn’t say anything at first and just looked it over. He was so hard to read because his face didn’t make any sort of expression, but he sat down at the counter and pulled the plate toward him. He didn’t touch the pizza just yet; he just kind of stared at it.

“Do you want me to heat it for you—?” I was going to take the plate but he stopped me by holding the other end of it.

“It’s better cold,” he replied. “But, uh, thanks anyway.”

I slightly nodded. “Sure.
Did you want something to drink? Ther
e’s Pepsi
and
7-up
, I think. I know there’s beer if, uh…you know, if you’re old enough to drink.”

He
fully
smiled for the first time ever, but instead of replying, he picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite. I guessed that was a ‘no’ for a drink, but I grabbed him a can of Pepsi anyway and slid it across the counter to him.
I liked seeing him smile; it made me feel like he didn’t hate me entirely.