It Was Me Page 11

  Abby squeezed my hand. “I do.”

  “You haven't even seen the school,” Annika groused.

  “I'll see it before we leave,” Abby said. “But I'm sure it will be great.”

  “What about the pro offers?” Mr. Sellers asked, looking at me again. “Did you talk to any of those scouts?”

  “No, sir,” I said. “I didn't. I don't know what the future holds for me. I don't know if it means playing professionally or not. But I've always wanted to play in college. If I can play and get my degree at the same time, it seems like a better choice than making a thousand bucks a month and riding buses in the minors.”

  And that was the truth. I had thought about it. I didn't want to be making pennies and eating fast food and grinding through some minor league season in someplace where I didn't know anyone or what was going to happen the next day. I'd call the scouts back and let them know, but I knew that going to college was a better decision for me. I'd probably known that before I'd gone to the tryout and that was why I'd put up so much resistance to going to it. I knew the statistics. Most guys didn't make the majors. I was realistic. I probably wouldn't, either. And I didn't want to be one of those guys that washed out in a couple of years with no plan and nothing to fall back on. Going to school would still give me the chance to play at the next level, but it would also give me some stability and plan for a future without baseball.

  Mr. Sellers nodded, but I could tell he was distracted.

  And I thought I knew why.

  “I'll take care of her,” I said. “I promise. This isn't going to be some stupid thing where she comes to school over here and we break up.” I shook my head. “Abby and I are a team. If anything goes wrong with the admissions or if Coach Childs is wrong or whatever, then I'm not coming.”

  “Oh, God. I'm gonna vomit,” Annika said.

  “West,” Abby said.

  “No, I'm serious,” I said, glancing at her, then back at her father. “I was going to say no until Coach Childs said he could arrange for her admission at Arizona. I wasn't leveraging. I meant it. I'm not going anywhere without her.” I paused. “I want to be with Abby.”

  Abby's hand crushed mine, her fingers clenching mine.

  Mrs. Seller's eyes softened and she smiled, nodding her head.

  Mr. Sellers forced a smile. “I know, West. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I have no doubt of your intentions, but I appreciate you saying those things. I know Abby will be in good hands with you.” He hesitated for a moment and the smile evaporated. “It's just that...”

  “It's just that he will miss his daughter,” Mrs. Sellers interjected, patting his shoulder again. “But we'll all be fine. It will all work out.”

  He again turned and looked up at his wife.

  She smiled back at him. “It will all work out.”

  TWENTY ONE

  Abby did, in fact, think the school was great.

  We spent the rest of the week in Tucson talking less about baseball and more about school. We spent a couple of mornings on the campus, one with Coach Childs, as he made good on his word and put together the necessary paperwork for both of us, and then another morning by ourselves, just walking the campus, ducking in and out of buildings and getting a feel for the place. We both agreed. It felt like a place we could settle into easily.

  We'd stayed up late one night, searching the Internet to look at the classes the school offered and we both saw more than enough things we were interested in. Abby also grabbed several apartment guides from a grocery store and we drove by some of the places that were close to campus, spotting one in particular that we both liked. We bought stuff in the bookstore—a sweatshirt for her and a T-shirt for me—and by the end of the week when it was time to head back to San Diego, it seemed like fate that we were supposed to end up there.

  Her mom continued to be supportive while we were there, asking us about classes and what the baseball schedule would be like. She seemed genuinely happy.

  Mr. Sellers, on the other hand, seemed...distant. There were no more questions about baseball. There were very few questions at all, really. He'd gone quiet and stayed that way. When his wife prodded him into saying something, he smiled and agreed with whatever she wanted him to agree with, then went back to thinking about whatever was on his mind.

  Annika was Annika. There were several snide remarks about how Abby needed special help to get into college and about how we'd probably hate living in the heat. But even her best attempts at getting under my skin failed.

  For the first time in a long time, I felt like it was all coming together in a way that I wanted it to come together.

  “What are you smiling about?” Abby asked, walking into the room.

  I had my bag on the bed and was folding my clothes, packing them up. “Nothing.”

  “It can't be the six hour long drive back with my parents,” she said. “Maybe it's because my sister already bailed?”

  My smile grew. Annika had taken off earlier that day. Since she'd driven herself out to Tucson, we were going to be deprived the pleasure of her presence on the way back to San Diego. She'd left as soon as she'd woken up.

  “Or maybe,” Abby said, coming up behind me. “It's because we can spend some time at your apartment tonight.” Her hand snaked around my shorts and slid between my legs.

  I took a deep breath, felt myself rise against her hand. “Crossed my mind.”

  She squeezed me gently and I groaned.

  “Just crossed your mind?” she asked. “That's it? I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm.”

  I pivoted so I was facing her. I grabbed her hips and pulled her in tight to me so she could feel exactly what she'd done to me. I held her there with one hand and slipped one beneath her tank top, finding her tit and squeezing it.

  “How's that?” I whispered in her ear.

  “Mmmm,” was all she could managed.

  I dropped my hand from her top and slid it inside the waistband of her shorts. She tried to back up but I cupped her ass with my other hand and held her in place. I brushed my fingers over her satin panties.

  “Am I enthusiastic now?” I whispered.

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She nodded.

  I found the edge of her panties, slipped my fingers beneath the fabric and pushed them inside of her. She gasped and her nails dug into my shoulder as my fingers explored the heat between her legs.

  “How about now?” I whispered.

  She wiggled her hips, pushing herself onto my fingers. “It's going to be a long ride home.”

  I chuckled and nipped at her ear. “We could try to be real fast right now and...”

  “Hey, Abby!” her mother called from the living room. “Do you have my visor?”

  We backed off from one another as fast as if she'd walked into the room.

  Abby ran a hand through her hair, smiled at me and shook her head. “Yeah, Mom! I've got it in my bag.”

  “Ok. Just checking.”

  I stood there for a moment, grinning at her, letting her see the bulge in my shorts.

  “Not fair,” she whispered.

  “You started it,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “It will be a long ride home.”

  She took a deep breath, pursed her lips. “Straight to your place. As soon as we get home.”

  I grinned at her. “Can't wait.”

  We finished packing our clothes, letting our desire for one another abate as we made sure we had everything before taking our bags into the living room. Her dad was stretched out on the couch.

  “Taking your mother an hour to pack,” he muttered. “Like usual.”

  “I heard that,” she called from their bedroom.

  I set our bags near the front door. Abby took one chair and I took the other.

  “I'd like to stay another week,” Mr. Sellers grumbled, folding his hands across his stomach and closing his eyes.

  “You're usually itching to go back,” Abby said.

  “Yeah, well, not this year,�
� he said, keeping his eyes closed. “I'd just like to...stick around a while longer.”

  “Me, too,” Mrs. Sellers said, emerging from the bedroom. She set her bags down near the couch. “Not ready to go back.”

  Mr. Sellers looked up at her and smiled.

  “You know you guys are your own bosses, right?” Abby asked, making a face at them. “You know you can take a vacation whenever you'd like, right?”

  Mrs. Sellers sat down on the arm of the couch. “It's not always that easy, Abby.”

  Mr. Sellers reached up and grabbed his wife's hand. She smiled at him.

  “Well, it's not like we won't come back,” Abby said. “We come back every year. We've been doing it for, like, forever.”

  Something passed through Mr. Sellers expression. It was very quick and I wasn't able to make out what it was, but I did see a tiny grimace crease his face before he let it pass on.

  “And, hello?” Abby continued, widening her eyes at her parents. “I'll be living over here in just a couple of months. You can come over all the time and visit.”

  Mrs. Sellers smiled at her. “That's a very good point.”

  Mr. Sellers didn't say anything, his eyes cast downward in thought.

  “So you'll be back soon enough,” Abby said. “We'll all be back.”

  Mr. Sellers leaned his back against the sofa, his eyes now focused on the ceiling. “Things are changing. Just might be a little...different.”

  “What does that mean?” Abby asked.

  Mrs. Sellers looked at her husband for a moment before turning her gaze on her daughter. “He just means that you guys are getting older and you might not always want to go on vacation with your parents.” She looked at her husband again. “Right?”

  He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.”

  There was something in his response that made me think that wasn't exactly what he'd originally meant. It wasn't that he disagreed with what she was saying, but that maybe there was a little more going on than he was letting on.

  He pushed himself off the sofa, his entire body moving all the enthusiasm of a man walking to the electric chair. “We should get going.”

  “Dad,” Abby said.

  He turned to her. “Yeah?”

  “We'll be back,” Abby said. “Family vacations here are our tradition. We'll all be back.”

  He smiled at her, but I could see doubt in his expression.

  “I know, kid,” he said. “I know.”

  TWENTY TWO

  “You guys decide to move to Arizona together and what?” Griffin asked. “You aren't going to see each other until you actually move?”

  We'd been back in San Diego for two days and I hadn't seen Abby since we'd gotten back. Griffin was sprawled on the couch as I finished a sandwich.

  “No,” I said, grabbing a handful of chips. “Her friend Tana is in town for a couple of days and they are doing...whatever it is they do.”

  “Gotcha,” he said, stretching his arms up in the air, then folding them behind his head. “Kicked to the curb for the best friend.”

  “Whatever.”

  He chuckled. “I'm just giving you shit. I heard you the other night when you guys got back. I was pretty sure you hadn't broken up.”

  It was my turn to chuckle. As soon as we'd gotten back, she'd tossed her bags in her room and hopped in my car, telling her parents we were going to my place and she was going to help me unpack and do laundry. We were in my apartment for no more than fifteen seconds before our clothes starting coming off. We'd spent the rest of the night in bed, making up for lost time and taking out our frustration at having been kept sexually at bay for a week.

  Vigorously and loudly.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, polishing off the sandwich and closing the bag of chips.

  “No worries,” he said. “Gotta do what you gotta do. And apparently you had to do it.”

  I laughed again as I took the plate to the sink and put the chips back in the pantry. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and crashed down in the old beat up recliner neither one of us wanted to part with. It looked like a piece of junk, but any time one of us mentioned tossing it and replacing it, we talked ourselves out if.

  “So what happens next?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uh, with Arizona? With baseball?”

  “Oh,” I said. I reached down, grabbed the lever and popped the extension thing so I could lift my legs up. “I'm supposed to get some more paperwork this week. Have to pick classes. Supposed to get my off-season workout plan. That kind of shit.”

  “You excited?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I can't believe you turned down the pros,” he said.

  I'd called all three teams that contacted me. I didn't even let them give me their pitch. I told them I was calling to let them know I'd signed a scholarship offer with Arizona and that, while I appreciated their offer, I was going to go to college. Two of them were totally cool with it and wished me luck, saying something to the effect of how they'd be keeping an eye on me. The other guy hung up on me, which just confirmed for me that I'd made the right choice.

  “You think I was dumb?” I asked. “To say no?”

  He shrugged as much as he could from his prone position on the couch. “Not if you're sure that this is what you want to do.”

  “I just didn't see myself being happy,” I said. “Riding on buses in the middle of the night, eating McDonald's every night, sharing some shit apartment with five other guys? Two years ago, maybe that would've been okay. But now?” I shook my head. “I don't want that.”

  “Such a choirboy,” he said.

  “Fuck off.”

  “And it would've meant leaving Abby,” he said. “And you didn't want to do that.”

  “That a bad thing?”

  “No. I'm just thinking it all through. I'm also thinking that I'm going to need a new roommate.”

  “I know,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't apologize, dude. Shit happens.”

  I did feel like I needed to apologize, though. Our living arrangement was the collateral damage of my decision to move to Tucson. He was my best friend. I felt like I was hanging him out to dry by having to move so quickly.

  “We'll find someone,” I said. “You won't have to go hunting for someone or take in some kook off the street.”

  “I'm used to living with a kook.”

  “Ha.”

  “Are you gonna marry her?”

  “Abby?”

  “No. My mother.”

  I shifted in the chair. “Eventually, yeah, I think so.”

  “Are you guys gonna live together over there?”

  “We talked about it.”

  “You think that's a good idea?”

  “Would you fucking spit out what you're trying to say?” I asked, annoyed.

  “I'm not trying to say anything,” he said, swinging his legs off the couch. “Settle down.”

  “Well it feels like you're trying to say something. So if you need to then just say it and stop fucking around.”

  “I'm not fucking around,” he said, getting irritated. “Look, you go on vacation for a week, then you come back and you tell me you've got all these plans. I'm just asking what the plans are because I have no fucking clue. And the only reason I'm asking is because I'd sorta like to know what my best friend is doing with his life. There's no fucking agenda, dude.”

  When he put it like that, I felt like crap. I'd basically come back to town and told him I was turning my life upside down and it did, in fact, affect him. Maybe it was my own insecurity that was making me suspicious of his motives.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Nothing to be sorry for, dumbass,” he said, making a face at me. “You know I'm cool with Abby. So I'm not saying shit. I'm just making sure this is exactly what you wanna do.”

  “It is,” I said with no hesitation. “It is.”

  Griffin stood. “Then lets st
op acting like a couple of little girls and go hit the water.” He grinned. “Cool?”

  I nodded, glad I had a best friend who got it. “Cool.”

  TWENTY THREE

  The waves weren't great, but I'd missed the ocean when we'd been in Arizona and it felt good to get out and ride for awhile. But after a couple hours, I was spent and begged off, leaving Griffin rolling his eyes at me as I trudged back in and walked back to the apartment.

  I showered the salt water off of me, pulled on a pair of shorts and called Abby. It rang five times before rolling over to voicemail. I sighed and left her a long message, telling her I missed her, that I was thinking about her and to call me when she got back. I laid on my back for a minute, staring at the ceiling, wishing she was with me.

  In the bed.

  I was still trying to play catch up from the week we were in Tucson and I hadn't gotten enough of her. I was craving her and I needed her.

  I let out a long frustrated sigh and pushed myself off the bed. Laying there was just going to make it worse. So I decided to do what any twenty-something horny male does when he's sexually frustrated.