Playlist: Crazy for this Girl by Evan and Jaron

Word Prompt: Field

Dialogue Flex: "Happy anniversary!" she said.

Chapter 4

Thursday proves to be the saddest day of the week because now I can't even distract myself with Tanya chatter. I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing to keep me from watching Bella peter around campus with Jake on her heels. And he is always on her heels. Lucky dog.

We both have a game in the late afternoon, and mine finishes first. I go to the girls' field to check out Bella's team. And to be honest, Bella herself.

She's on the pitcher's mound, ball in hand, eyeing the catcher. She nods, sets herself up like I've seen her do in her backyard a million times, and lobs the ball forward.

The batter swings and misses, and I applaud for Bella, calling her name. It's then I notice the hulking figure in the stands lower down. He swivels his head back toward me and waves. Jake. Of course. He claps as well, and the two of us cheer her on.

She's got the ball again and rubs it with both hands, her glove tucked beneath her armpit. She sets up, looks toward us once, and drives the ball toward the hitter.

Crack!

The batter's running, hauling ass to first, then second. Bella's low to the ground, leaning side to side, keeping on her toes, waiting to see if the action will come her way. Eventually, it does as the ball makes its way in-field. The softball's flying fast, straight for her.

"Back it up!" I shout. "She's going for it. Be ready!"

With a backward leap, Bella snags the ball and touches back, swiping her glove on the player's thigh.

The noise of the crowd pauses as we wait for the umpire's call.

"Out!" he shouts, and Bella's glove flies into the air as the rest of the teammates rush her. She's just won the game for her team. Dammit, she's good. I love to watch her play. So passionate. She's always been that way. Even when she was five and we were in t-ball together. She was competitive and wanted to win. But it went beyond that and still does—she wants to get better, to improve. I do, too. In more ways than one.

I stand and cheer, waving my team-issued hat in the air when I realize Jake's vacated the stands. He's on the field, and Bella's in his arms.

This week sucks.

By Friday, I'm feeling desperate and lonely in every way conceivable. Mom's staying with Katie until she can find her own place, which means it's me and Dad to fend for ourselves. After sitting at an empty kitchen table for thirty minutes waiting for people and food to magically appear, I swallow my pride and head to Bella's.

I hop the fence and rap on her window like always, expecting her to peek through. But she doesn't. Jake does.

In my shock, I jerk away from the widow and lose my balance, falling on the prickly bush. Sandy comes from her house and barks at the commotion until she realizes it's me. I walk toward her, clearing my head, though I'm not paying attention and step in one of her landmines. Awesome.

I'm scuffing my foot on the barely-there grass when the back door slides open, and out walk Jake and Bella. Her hair is wild, and his shirt's unbuttoned.

"What do you want?" Bella asks, hostile.

"I . . . uh, it's nothing. It's . . . I . . ." I point to my house, trying to show how dark and drab and gloomy it is, but I fail to make my point because I'm a blithering idiot.

Jake appraises me and, to my surprise, doesn't look pissed to see me lurking in Bella's backyard.

"We were gonna watch a movie. You want to join us?" he asks, cheerfully. Why is he so happy all the time? I glance at Bella's crazy bed head and frown at one of the possible reasons.

Bella starts yammering. "Oh, no, Jake. He can't—he—"

"I can," I say, smiling and walk toward them, doing a little shuffle to rid my shoes of dog poop.

I haven't heard Bella flub her words in a while. She did it a lot in middle school. I'd ask her a question, and she'd look up at me all confused and start blurting gibberish, like she was lost in her head or something. I didn't understand it then, but maybe I do now. Maybe she was nervous. Like she is now. Nervous that I'll stay when she doesn't want me to. Well, too bad. I don't want them going back to her room and doing whatever it was they were doing. No thanks.

I pass up Bella who glares and then Jake who whispers, "Did you know you smell like shit?"

"Yeah, I did," I whisper back.

"Oh, all right." He's polite; I'll give him that.

We all head inside to watch a movie together—a lame romantic comedy—in the most awkward atmosphere known to man.

Bella and Jake snuggle on the floor while I hog the couch and dangle my shod feet as close to them as possible, hoping the smell of Sandy's turd will squash their connection.

It seems to work, but when Jake says his goodbyes he kisses Bella at the door. It is not a short kiss, and I am not happy. But this is what happens when you like someone and are too foolish to tell them, so I think up a plan and put it into action quickly.

The door closes with a thump, and I blurt, "I broke up with Tanya."

"She had sex with Eric the next day." Bella smoothes her hair out and sits on the couch beside me.

"I'm not surprised. How do you know?"

"Tanya is a braggart." Bella says this with a smile meant to irritate me, but it doesn't. It reminds me of when we were little and tried to trick Katie and Garrett into giving us their quarters so we could buy something from the ice cream man. We always rubbed our hands together when it worked and smiled like evil geniuses. This is her evil genius smile. And it looks cute on her lips.

"Ah," is all I can say because I'm thinking about Bella's lips.

Bella picks up some dishes around the living room and puts them in the sink before rinsing and placing them in the dish washer.

I sit on the floor in the kitchen waiting for her to finish. From this vantage point I enjoy watching her curves sway around the cramped space. She looks just as good doing dishes as she does playing softball. I can't imagine how good she'd look doing other things.

When she's done cleaning, she sits opposite me.

"I'm kissing Jake," Bella says, eyes downward, fiddling with her knee socks—lime green tonight.

"I can see." I also see her long legs stretched out before me. Garrett's right: sex legs. It's a good description, I think.

"He asked me out."

I lift my random cap and run my hand over the top of my hair before setting it back down. "Are you his girlfriend now?" It's basically a whisper because I'm a big pile of chicken poop even though I currently smell like dog poop.

"No."

"No? You're kissing him in your bedroom while your dad's at work. I'd say that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do."

"Well, we're not."

"Why not? You like him, right?"

"Yeah. I'm not a whore." She snaps her sock to punctuate her words. I get it. I know it.

"I know that. I'm just curious why you didn't say yes."

Bella stares at her feet for a long while then looks up into my eyes. "I'm not sure why."

"You're not sure?"

"No, I'm not."

This is where my plan kicks back in. Honesty, that's the main point. "Well, I was sure about breaking up with Tanya."

"Yeah? Why'd you do that?"

"Because of you." I don't want there to be any confusion.

She keeps her eyes on me. A small smile growing that she seems to be trying to keep at bay.

"I like you, Bella. I didn't know that I did, but I did. I mean, I do."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know," she says softly to the kitchen tiles.

I cross the small floor space so I'm sitting beside her. "You got that ballpark for me yet?" I nudge her shoulder with mine, and she cracks a smile.

"Fenway," she whispers, looking up at me with soft eyes.

I really want to kiss her.

"That's a good one." And in the middle of her list. We're getting there.

"Yeah, I think so. Why did you come over here tonight?"

"I'm starving. For food and attention," I explain with a wide grin.

She chuckles at my words. "You sound like a dog." She bonks my knee with hers and leaves it there so we're still connected. The soft fabric of the knee sock is the best thing I've ever felt on my bare skin. Except for maybe her lips. On my lips.

And now I'm distracted again.

"If the shoe fits," I say, admitting to my dog-like behavior. I guess it works.

"Hmm. Well, I might have some Kibble for you."

"That would be great. What are ya gonna make?"

She laughs at my assumption. "Nothing, jerk. Heat up some leftovers."

"All right." I tug at her hair and ask her to stay out here with me.

She sits on a barstool and watches as I navigate her kitchen as if it were my own to assemble a dinner of sorts. Left over mashed potatoes, some fajita mix, and a glass of milk. The dinner of champions. Or in this case, the dinner of a neglected teenage boy raiding his friend's fridge.

I sit beside her and frown now that I'm all set because I'm not. No utensils.

She smiles at my plate and reaches into the dish drainer to snag me a fork.

"Your mom gone already?"

"Yeah, she left awhile ago." My house is so empty without her. I don't know how my dad can stand it. If I were him I'd be at her doorstep on my knees, begging for her to come back. He's not one to admit that he's wrong, so I worry about their future. I suspect it will end poorly with a signed paper announcing their freedom.

"When?"

"I dunno."

"What day? Wednesday?"

"Yeah, yeah, Wednesday."

"So sad. Happy anniversary."

"Oh, no. It's . . . you're right. It was their . . . I don't think my dad even . . ."

"He's acting like he doesn't care at all. I don't know, Edward. I want them to make it, but at this rate . . ."

"He needs to really pull out all the stops, huh?"

"Pretty much." She nods in agreement.

"Maybe I can help him."

Bella bursts into laughter, the kind where spit flies and people want to join in, but I don't. I can't. Because I'm fairly certain she's just completely insulted me.

"Hey, I could. I mean, I could . . . I don't know . . ."

"I know you don't," she says, wiping tears from her eyes and staring at me with a goofy expression. She has kind eyes, though, hopeful. Maybe I'm not a complete wash. Maybe my dad's not either. I hope not.

Bella's hand flies out and grips my shoulder, excitedly. Her eyebrows do this weird little dance I find amusing before she says, "Hey, why'd Esme tell my mom we're going out?"

I choke on my potatoes, and Bella slams my back harder than she needs to. Once my coughing subsides, I drink my tall glass of milk.

"You thank me, I know," she says, laughing at me.

"Never said I didn't," I say and take another bite of potatoes.

She smiles and pulls her hair into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic band from her wrist.

Things are going to be all right. I can feel it.

A/N: The lovely Twisted Lea couldn't stand my wonky fanfiction cover photo, so she made me one to match my banner (check it out in detail on my blog). She's coolio like that. And so are you. Seriously enjoying each and every review. Thank you. And thank you to Kassiah at The Fictionators for giving my story a shout out. I've had lots of new readers since Friday. Hope you're all still having fun.