Shutout, p.11
Shutout, page 11
“What do you want?”
I shove my hands into my jean pockets. “Where’s your sister?”
Skylar shrugs. “I don’t know, funeral stuff, I guess.” I want to ask her why the fuck she’s not with her but refrain.
“When will she be back, do you know?”
Skylar smacks her lips. “Nope.”
“I’ll wait for her out here then.” I begin to turn on my heels, but Skylar steps out through the doorway.
“You can come inside.”
“I’ll wait in my car.” I don’t wait for her to answer me, just stride back to my car and wait impatiently so I can see her. Hold her.
Fucking tell her I’m sorry.
Two hours later, a car pulls up in the driveway, my heart slams into my chest as I open my car door. But only the driver’s side opens, revealing Sawyer’s anguished mother. I ask her as politely and kindly as I can where Sawyer is but she’s in a daze, completely beside herself. After five minutes of testing my patience and anxiousness, Sawyer’s mom doesn’t know where she is, hasn’t heard from her since this morning. She dropped hints that Sawyer was around town doing things for the funeral, that she’d let her know I stopped by, but it wouldn’t do anything.
I offer my condolences, aching for her and the fact that Sawyer is obviously dealing with this alone.
I text Taylor to see if she’s heard from Sawyer while I scout the town, going to the flower shop, driving by the funeral home looking for her car, but I don’t find her.
After over an hour of texting, Taylor gets back to me, sending me things I don’t want to fucking hear right now.
Taylor: Yeah, I’ve heard from her, but why the hell are you asking me where she is? What did you do?
Me: I didn’t ask for an interrogation, just if you’ve heard from her.
Taylor: Which would lead to more questions when I answer vaguely.
Me: I’m not fucking around, where is she?
Taylor: At her apartment?
Me: Been there twice already, she hasn’t been home in days.
Taylor: I know you’re capable of many things but stalking?
Me: Don’t fuck around with me right now.
Taylor: I’m not, ass clown, believe it or not...I’ve always been on your side.
Me: Doubt it. If you hear from her, let me know. Don’t tell her I texted you.
Taylor: Damn, what did you do?
Sawyer didn’t tell her best friend what happened, shit must’ve happened really fast with her dad or she shut down. Either way, I wasn’t giving up on her. I’d never again abandon what we have.
Me: Just, please, do what I ask. I’m sure you’ll get an earful later.
Taylor: I’m sure I will but not until she’s ready and finally settled down. She’s not doing good, Colson.
Me: I can imagine.
Taylor: Then let me help you, what happened?
Me: Call me.
And she does. Taylor lets me explain everything, even Annabelle kissing me, and doesn’t give me shit for it. She tells me to hang tight, that she’ll see what’s going on, but I don’t feel hopeful that anything she says to Sawyer will be productive.
I just need to speak to her alone, hold her in my arms, and tell her that none of this is a game.
We’re not done, I’m not done. Not when we never even started, now or before. I won’t let anyone screw this up for us.
Sawyer may not have said she loves me, but I know she cares for me.
You don’t deal with someone like me and not have an inkling of compassion.
The Florida scout wants to sign me, full scholarship and lodging, the whole enchilada. Only thing I need to do is graduate, shit’s in the bag.
But I can’t say that I’m anything but beside myself. I can’t believe that this is happening. Not only did I accomplish my dream but I have Sawyer by my side as well. I don’t deserve it, not the baseball career, but Sawyer being so supportive and happy about it.
When she heard the news, instead of her being gloomy like I thought she would be, she brought me burgers, fries, and cheese sticks from Burger Joint to celebrate. She was ecstatic on the phone, I could see her jumping up and down, the beautiful smile that graces her face when she’s happy.
That smile faded a little when she realized that she didn’t bring enough food for my mom. She profusely apologized over three times, fidgeted with the hem of her dress, and I wanted to push her out of the foyer because my mom doesn’t deserve an ounce of kindness from her.
She’s been eyeing Sawyer under a microscope since she walked in, more than likely jealous of how young and beautiful she is in a yellow sundress that comes above her knees with her hair in two french braids.
It was making Sawyer uncomfortable and pissing me off.
“Don’t you have plans?” I finally say as Sawyer runs out of things to say on the one-sided conversation.
Mom nods. “Yes, I’m running late.” She grabs her Coach purse off the kitchen island. “Enjoy your...food. And it was nice to meet you, Samantha.” I open my mouth to correct her, she remembers her name, she just wants to be an asshole.
“Have a nice time,” Sawyer beams, waving at her. I grab her hand, lacing her fingers with mine as Mom eyes our joined hands.
Her brown eyes meet mine, and she raises a brow. She isn’t going to fuck this up for me, she isn’t going to make Sawyer think she’s stupid or not worthy. I’m my dad, just more of a dickhead version at the moment. But Sawyer is changing that, she’s been changing my mood and the way I feel when I wake up in the morning. I don’t feel so defeated and down, looking forward to going to school and seeing her.
“Yes, thank you,” Mom replies. She escapes through the front door, letting it softly click behind her, and I waste no time in wrapping my other arm around Sawyer’s waist. My lips softly press into her temple as she thaws against me.
“You’re too nice to her, Bases,” I tell her. “She’s a bitch.”
“She’s your mom.”
“She was the reason my dad committed suicide.” Sawyer brushes her fingers along my spine gently.
“Don’t let her get to you, okay?” she says. “You’ve accomplished your dream. You’re going to Florida to play on the country’s best baseball team. Soon you’ll be away from her.”
I press my forehead to hers. “C’mon, let’s head up to my room and eat.”
Holding her hand, I lead her to my bedroom, where we eat with the small TV I bought last year, watching Star Wars: Attack of the Clones on DVD. My Bases has a hint of Sci-Fi nerd in her, and it only turns me on more. Especially since she knows all the damn characters.
“You bought too much food,” I chastise her lightly, watching her pull another sack of fries out of the very large bag she brought onto my bed.
“No such thing,” she replies with her mouth full. “We’ll burn it off at practice.”
I laugh. “You’re not afraid it’ll go to your ass or something?”
She raises a brow. “Wouldn’t you like that?” I shake my head, tugging on her arm to get closer to me.
“I like you the way you are,” I counter, pulling her into my lap and letting her wrap her legs around my waist. “And if all that fast food go to your ass—” I shrug “—more to squeeze.”
“Figures.”
“You’re perfect, Bases,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t change you for anything.”
“And you’re a hidden treasure I never thought I’d be able to stand.” I tickle her sides at the comment, getting her to squirm and squeal in my lap until she apologizes.
She finally does, and I wrap my arms around her again, tightening her to my chest. “Are you scared?”
It’s been a concealed conversation that we both know about but haven’t spoken on yet.
I don’t know what she’s thinking in that pretty little head of hers, but I don’t want this to be over. I want her to come to Florida to be with me so I don’t have to go weeks without seeing her. I’m scared that eventually she’ll move on and find someone new.
That makes my heart and stomach drop at the thought.
She’s too good for me, but I promised myself that I’d be the best man I could be for her, always making her happy, always doing what’s best.
“A little,” she concedes. “But we’ll make it work, won’t we?”
I nod. “Yeah, baby, we’ll make it work.” She gives me a weak smile that doesn’t reach her moss-green eyes. I don’t want this looming over our heads for the next few weeks until we graduate, I want us to talk about it now, to know what she wants and if she’d consider going with me.
“Bases,” I begin. “Would you, maybe, think about coming with me?”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “To Florida?”
I lift a shoulder. “Yeah. It’s a good school, weather is awesome.”
I’m numb, isn’t that how a stroke begins? I don’t know what I’m going to do if she says no. I don’t think I can handle losing her, my feelings are too strong and genuine.
I think I’m head over heels in love with her.
“Well, there’s this really cute guy that’s supposed to be going there that I wanted to meet and—” I start tickling her again, and she tucks her head into my neck, pressing kisses into it to get me to stop. I comply, just to feel my dick stir in my pants.
“I want to go with you,” she mutters against my skin.
I reach for her face, dragging it to mine, as I press my lips to hers.
She’s everything.
I never knew she’d become this, an obsession, a crutch, a fucking lifeline to a future where I could be happy without Dad being here.
“Don’t change your mind,” I tell her. “Promise.”
She smiles against my lips. “I promise.”
“Will you go to prom with me?” Her smile grows wider, and she nods profusely.
“Will you fuck me at prom?”
Geezus Christ.
The mouth on her lately has been on fire with the shit she’s been spilling. I’ve been a horrible/best influence of her life.
“Don’t you think that’s a little basic for us, Bases,” I stammer, as I’m try not to imagine Sawyer naked underneath me or my giving her multiple orgasms before sinking deep within her.
“Maybe,” she alludes. “But I want you. I want everything.”
I clear my throat. “Ben’s throwing a hotel party at the Lynchfield a week after prom, how about we stay the night together and—”
“Really? Can we get a hot tub and champagne with—”
“God, how much have you thought about this?” And I thought I was the overly obsessive thinker in this relationship about us having sex.
Her cheeks redden as her lips quirk at the corners. “A little.”
“I think about it all the time.”
“Shocker.”
“How about we play it by ear? I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything for me to stay. I want you, Bases, just you.”
She crushes her mouth to mine. “Who knew you could be so charming and sweet.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” I brush my nose with hers. “I don’t want anyone’s attention but yours.”
“Can we start looking for community colleges that are close by?”
“Sure, baby. The closest one there is.”
“This is for real, isn’t it?”
“Sure is, Bases. And it’s about fucking time.”
Ben’s party is in full swing, music blaring to where the bass is hitting my body with every beat and drop. Taylor went to grab more of—whatever it was we were drinking, all I know is that it’s delicious and hit me harder with a buzz than anything I’ve had before.
I’m nervous, beyond words honestly, for tonight. Not because of Colson but because I’m fearful that I won’t be enough. I want it to be special, that he’ll still want me to come with him to Florida because I’m scared he’ll change his mind. I’m not like the girls he’s been with in the past; experienced and seasoned.
I shouldn’t think like this, Colson has never put any pressure on it. In fact, he keeps asking me if I’m sure I want to do this, to spend the night with him in a hotel room, but I’m beyond sure. I want this more than anything along with a life with him.
I check my phone again to see if he’s texted me. We weren’t able to come together because he had a dinner with Coach Anderson and a scout from Vanderbilt who was interested in signing him to their baseball team. He didn’t want to go, but I encouraged him to, reminding him that I promised to follow him anywhere. I wanted him to have every opportunity that came his way even though he had his heart set on Florida.
Standing on a chair, I scout the large hall that was rented out by Ben’s father for our last Senior year get together for Colson. Dinner must’ve run late, and I told him not to bring his phone out during dinner because it was rude. For once, he listened, and I kinda wish he didn’t.
My anxiety is eating me alive and scenarios of how sexy or conservative I should act has been replaying in my mind all day. Taylor said the liquor would calm my nerves, but it doesn’t stop the muddled thoughts from happening.
Blinking, I focus on the dancing couples on the floor, but my eyelids start to feel boulders.
Taylor shouldn’t be long, unless she stopped to dance to “Dirty” by Christina Aguilera, which is the song blaring throughout the room. The rowdiness of the room is starting to give me a headache, and the longer I sit, the more I feel as though I want to lay down for a bit and wait for Colson to show up.
I begin to stand but quickly grab the table, gravity and my inebriated state striking back with a vengeance.
This is why I don’t drink.
The hazy vision, the in and out feeling where you feel like you’re floating in the air but your ass is still where it was before, not my favorite feeling.
Laying my focus on the exit door, I stumble-walk out of the hall and to the elevator, trying to look as normal as humanly possible in front of the receptionist at the front desk of the hotel, only to still get a glare from her while the doors of the elevator close.
I text Taylor to let her know that I’m going up to my room and that I’m fine, even though the liquor is starting to show me how much it didn’t agree with me and my equilibrium. The elevator doors open with a ding, and I tread through the empty hallway, watching the numbers increase with each passing one.
Room 213—bingo.
Sliding my entry card three times, the door finally unclicks, and I stride through the dark room, almost running straight into the foyer wall. I let the darkness engulf me, just wanting to lay on the bed with no lights, no TV, just a pillow and me.
Stretching out onto the mattress, the window to my right is blocked off with a thick curtain to keep the sunlight out, as I still hold on to my phone.
I focus on steady breaths, my body dozing off into a calmer state. Colson wants to be with me, there is no reason to be nervous, and I was the one who said I was ready, not him. This will bring us closer, stronger, and I’m ready to move to the next step with him.
A small beep sounds off my phone and the hotel door opens slightly, displaying Colson in my foyer.
“Bases.”
I smile in the dark, slowly bracing my body up with my elbow. “How did you know I was up here?” I half murmur, half slur.
“Taylor,” he says, walking toward the bed and sitting next to me.
He leans closer, gesturing me to lay back and relax, his fingers brushing my cheeks softly.
I close my eyes, relishing in his touch. A kiss grazes my cheek, and I sharply inhale a breath. We’ve been building toward this, no matter how much I battle and dismiss it in my head, Colson Hayes is becoming a part of my life.
My heart swells in my chest as his fingers rake across my collarbone, his lips continuing a trail to my neck. I bite my lower lip, loving his and how they send goosebumps along my body.
I’m ready for this.
I’ve been dreaming about it. I want to be closer to Colson in every way possible because I love him.
I. Love. Him.
I love how he didn’t stop fighting to be with me.
I love how he challenges me.
I love his big mouth and how he’s so determined to keep hustling while his father isn’t here. He’s an inspiration, and when we graduate, I still want to continue this.
Us.
His lips find mine, urging them open so his tongue can enter my mouth immediately. He’s just as hungry for me as I am for him, and he’s been patient, so forbearing in waiting, it just has me wanting to make this move with him even more.
That he’s held back and showed me that I was worth waiting for, sends butterflies twirling in my stomach. I’m falling in love with him day by day, and I desperately want him to know, but I’m scared. Terrified that after this I won’t be worth the wait anymore. It’ll just be a normal thing for him while it’s going to mean so much more to me.
My dress is pulled up to my waist, and he grazes my panties with his fingers, sending waves of pleasure discharging through me like a gun range, and I groan in response. It gives him more confidence as he kisses me deeper, the taste of alcohol off his tongue making me more drunk off of him.
Our tongues mingle, Colson growls into my mouth while I reach to touch his cock. He’s hard underneath his jeans, and I fumble with the button.
“I want to be inside you,” he rasps along my lips. The words burn my skin, the want in his tone, his body hovering over mine so I can now tug his jeans further down his legs.
“Do it,” I tell him. “I want to be closer to you.” His answer is my panties being yanked from my hips, a small tearing sound following. I want to ask him if dinner went okay, but I’m in a daze. His tongue is dancing with mine, making my body buzz in response, leaving me to ask him later.
Colson’s body covers mine, and I feel him shuffle around, more than likely taking off his jeans. The darkness of the room covers his features, but within it my other senses are heightened, making it easier to hide my nervousness.
The sudden pressure of his cock presses against my opening, and I inhale the last moment that I would be empty without Colson Hayes. I’ll never be the same, and I welcome it willingly and impatiently.
