Playlist: Here We Go by Matt Kearney

Word Prompt: Scooter

Chapter 9

My attempt to begin my game of Catch Bella comes to a screeching halt when I discover she's out with Jake. It's like a bat to the skull with a dull ache that won't leave.

I understand what she was saying. Jake's a good guy; he shouldn't be dumped for no reason. But she's not even technically dating him, and don't I count as a reason? I guess not since, according to her, "I'm not ready yet." I still don't understand what that means, but I'm trying to. And I'm trying to do the right thing, so I don't freak out. I grin and bear it.

And continue to grin and bear it throughout the week as I watch them roam halls together and eat at the same lunch table across from me. It's even more annoying as time goes by because I sort of like the dude that's trying to steal Bella. He's a cool guy. Still . . . go away!

After a home game, I shower and sit outside the girls' locker room waiting for Bella. Jake lopes over to me with a heavy stride and nods hello.

"Good game, man. I caught the end of it with Bella."

"Yeah, thanks. Their pitcher was junk."

"Even so, you made some great catches out there. And you're fast. I thought Bella was fast—"

"She is," I say defensively.

"—but you can really fly."

"Charlie coached us when we were kids. He was tough. Good, but tough."

"Yeah, I met him officially last weekend."

"And?"

"Not too tough."

"He's got guns everywhere. Just watch it."

"Yeah." Jake laughs nervously.

I'm getting sick of this nice jerk. Doesn't anything faze him? I wish it would, so I try something a little scandalous, even for me. "You been laid yet?"

Not even a second passes before he responds. "Of course. You?'

I shrug. None of his damn business.

"Tanya. Right. Heard about her," he says.

"You know Bella hasn't, right?"

He looks directly at me, irritation etched in his features. Maybe I am getting to him. "You sure about that?" No, but we did promise we'd tell each other when it happened. Neither one of us has had anything to share with the other yet.

I clench my fists and gaze out into the field, trying not to sucker punch him in the face.

"We don't have to do this. I'm not into games. I know you like her. I even know about the kiss. It's cool. I get it, but she likes me more. That's it. End of story," he says, matter of fact.

"It's not the end of the story. Bella and I have history way beyond some nurse/patient whirlwind romance."

Jake squints his eyes like he's deciding if I'm homosexual or not. I've watched too many of Bella's movies lately while trying to be more courteous.

"It's just not gonna happen. She won't be with you for the long term. I'm just telling you," I add, trying to get through to this douche.

"Then why did she have a meeting with an academic adviser at North last week?" He folds his massive arms over his chest.

Dammit, why does he know so much about her that I don't? "What's even at North?" I ask, feeling desperate.

"That girl. The one that was in sports medicine for the major leagues. Carmen de Somebody."

"de Santo," I correct.

"Yeah. Bella admires her. Big time."

"Shit," I blurt, losing my cool. Girls start pouring out of the locker room, but Bella's not out yet.

"For you," Jake says with a wide, bright white toothy grin.

"Dammit."

"Wish I could help you out," he says none too convincingly.

"No you don't."

"I don't," he admits with a shrug.

It pisses me off, so I say, "She's in love with me. You know that, right?"

"You sure about that?" Smug bastard.

"Yes." I wish.

"Then why'd she accept my invitation to prom? Isn't it most girls' dream to go to prom with whoever they're in love with and not their second choice?"

I have nothing to say to this. I'm at a complete loss. It seems Bella has made her choice: this guy, this town, this college. And I'll be alone. Still.

But this is a test, and I'm supposed to be chasing her. So when Bella emerges—hair wet from her shower in a thick braid down her back, smelling blessedly like vanilla—I tag along with her and Jake to Denny's for a bite to eat. I text my dad on the way there to make sure he's not sitting at an empty kitchen table waiting for me. He isn't; he's stuck at work.

I sit across from Bella and try to ignore Jake, engaging her in lots of conversation. It's all I've got unless I want to strip naked and do a table dance to get her attention. And somehow I think even at Denny's I'd be kicked out.

". . . Garrett was so pissed when he realized we broke his scooter."

Bella's breathless, cheeks flushed from laughing. "I totally forgot that. Didn't he spend the night at whatshisname's house for a week?"

"Yeah, the bedwetter."

She chortles and lifts her drink before squinting at it. She removes the lemon from her water and drops it into my cup. I smile at the familiar action and gaze on as she lowers her head, tilting it to sip her water. She's so goofy how she does that. I don't know why she doesn't bring the glass to her lips like a normal person, but I don't care because it's cute.

It's also pretty cute that she gave me her lemon. Jake's lemon sits on a side plate, sad and lonely. They can't even complement each other in water drinking. It's official: I'm the better choice. Besides, I bet he eats all the crunchy chips in the Chex Mix, and I know those are for Bella—her favorite.

"Did you pick a dress yet?" Jake asks, throwing an arm around Bella's seat. Territorial much?

"No, you just asked me," she says, then catches my eyes. "Jake asked me to prom. Last week."

"I heard." The blow's softened a bit now that I know when it all went down—before I was kissing on her and told her I liked her—but it still sucks.

"Paul said he was gonna get a limo. Should be fun. You should get a date of your own, Edward, and join us," Jake says.

"I think I'm good," I say and leave it at that.

But no one else does. I'm asked by Bree and Senna if I'd like to go to prom the following week. I hadn't even realized prom was so close. It doesn't matter, though, because I went last year, and this year the only girl I want to go with is going with someone else.

-NSID-

My arms pump, and my thighs burn as I chase the ball that flew just out of my reach. It's closer to in-field than out-field, so it's mine. I dive for the ball to stop its descent, and I'm up, throwing with all my might to third before the runner can get there. But I'm too late, and the jock slips by, scoring on us.

Damn. I throw my gloved hand on top of my head and groan. My game's been garbage lately, and I can't get out of this funk. Luckily, my team makes up for my mistakes, and we're up to bat.

There's one more inning, and I'm lethargic and want to go home. I sit on the bench, head low, thinking about Bella and my dad and Mom and why my life sucks. How did it turn to crap in such a short amount of time? It's exhausting being miserable.

"Cullen!" Coach barks.

"Yep?" I snap my head up.

"You're up."

I need to pay attention. This is pathetic. I was better than this when I was playing t-ball.

I warm up, taking a few swings. The batter ahead of me hits a double, setting the bar high. I take my stance, gripping the bat and toeing the ground. I grind my teeth, excited to take my anger out on the ball.

Here's the pitch.

Crack!

It's up, high and to the left.

"Foul ball," the umpire calls.

"Come on, Edward!" a familiar voice yells.

I turn and tip up my helmet to see Bella's friendly face. She's in uniform pants but lost her shirt, wearing a tank instead, showing off her tan, sweaty skin. She's gorgeous. I smile and turn back to my game, rejuvenated.

"Hit 'em hard, Edward. Let's go," she says, cheering me on.

The ball flies, and I swing and miss.

"Shake it off. The next one's yours! Take it, Edward, it's yours!"

Something about her calling my name builds me up, makes me feel like I can't miss, like it's physically impossible.

The ball comes, and my swing's dead on. I book it to first and keep my eye on the outfielder who's chasing my grounded ball. He fumbles, but he's on it, too. I hedge closer to second but hesitate until Bella calls out, "Go for it! Run your ass as fast as you can!" So I do!

The outfielder's throw is crap, and I'm free to keep running, making it all the way to third and sending two of my teammates home. It was a great play.

With my hands on my knees and heart pumping blood furiously through my body, I look over my shoulder to see a dorky thumbs up from Bella. That simple action sends me into a frenzy. She's amazing. She's sweet and kind and beautiful, and I want her in every way. I need her.

I love her.

I can't take my eyes off her at my realization and nearly miss the smack of the bat hitting the ball and stumble a bit as I run from third to home. Bella cheers me on, swinging her hat in the air, and yelling some chant.

When I make it into the dugout I gaze her way, and she tilts her hat to me in a goofy bow. It's my E hat. The one I left in her room weeks ago to mark my space, mark my girl, and she's wearing it. Her long ponytail pokes through the back, swishing as she moves. My cheeks hurt, I'm smiling so hard.

The game's over shortly, and Bella meets me outside by the buses. She's bag-less and swings her keys around her finger. "Want a ride?" she asks.

"How'd you drive?" I ask, pointing to the buses.

"Doctor's appointment. I had a note."

"Ah."

"So?"

"Jake here?"

"Nope," she says, smiling coyly. I like this very much.

"Hey, Marcus!"

"What?" he bellows from inside the bus, his head sticking out.

"Tell coach I went home with Bella."

"Dude, he'll make you run tomorrow."

"Don't care."

"Your choice. Whatever," he says, retreating into the hot bus.

"Let's go," I say, hitching my bag up higher.

I climb into her Metro and squish my long legs into the front seat, searching frantically for the lever to move it back.

Bella gets in and buckled without a hitch and laughs at my expense.

"I forgot you drive a clown car," I grumble.

"I'm sorry. You wanna be stuck with that stinky bunch a hoodlums? Run back. They haven't left yet."

"Shutting up," I say, setting her AC on high and combing through my hair, trying to dry my sweat. The drive home from away games is the worst. Especially in a bus full of smelly teenage guys. I hold my sleeves open to get some air into my wet pits.

Bella laughs, shaking her head. "You look ridiculous."

"I stink."

"I stink, too, and I've been smelling you my whole life. If it hasn't deterred me yet, it's not going to."

"Good to know," I say, dropping my arms. "And I'm guessing you won't be deterred if I get half naked then, either?" This isn't about looking hot. This is about being hot. I don't wait for a response and strip my sticky shirt from my torso. It's disgusting.

She looks me over and smiles, not saying a word for a moment. "Okay, are you trying to tempt me? Is that what all your sudden nudity is about?" she asks, biting her lip.

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"Mmm," is all she says.

"You could reciprocate," I mumble, and she laughs.

To my surprise, at the next stoplight she takes the bait and strips out of her tank, leaving only her sports bra on. It's like slow motion the way she peels it off, revealing more skin of hers than I've seen in a long time. I think the last time she was this exposed was around Christmas when her mom was in town bugging her, and she was doing her utmost to be unlady-like. At the time it was funny, normal, and no big deal. Now, her bare skin shocks me, and I don't know what to say because things have developed since then. Things being: A. my desire to touch her. Anywhere. And B. Bella. Yeah, she's, um, different. Bigger.

"Too much?" she asks, grimacing like she made a mistake.

"I'm not complaining." I stare blatantly. This is so obnoxious, but I can't help it.

She smiles wide, taking a corner fast, forcing me to hold the SOB bar. She's enjoying this too much. I like seeing her so happy, though.

We're near home when she suggests we hang out at the park. I'm not due for dinner for about an hour, so I'm good to go.

We pull out our gear and play an elementary game of catch, only it's not like any other game of catch I've ever played before. My eyes focus on her four pack, her cleavage, and the graceful yet powerful way she throws. I wish I could get this crap on video so I could watch it over and over. A half naked Bella playing baseball in my hat is all kinds of hot.

"You wanna hit?" she asks after her last catch.

I agree and grab my bat, setting up, waiting for her pitch. It takes a few swings to get used to her style—and her leaning over like that—but I get the hang of it and send a few balls far enough that I hope it impresses her.

"You're up, pitcher," she says, tossing the ball lightly so I can catch it bare handed.

"I suck at pitching."

"I know," she says, laughing as she takes my bat from me.

I throw underhand, and true to my words I'm terrible, even hitting her once. I'm ready to call it quits when she suggests I help her with her batting instead.

"Did you know where that ball was going to go today when you hit it?" she asks in her stance before throwing the ball herself and smacking it.

"Yeah, I always know." She gives me a yeah-right look, so I add, "Well, mostly."

"How do you know? You can't, like, aim."

"Sure you can," I say as I watch her from my seat on the ground while picking blades of grass one by one from the field.

"How?"

"Coach Biers taught me. I'll show you." I stand and wipe my hands off on my uniform pants. Some more grass stains can't hurt. I saunter to Bella, and she watches me the whole way, her eyes moving all around my body. I love the way she looks at me, her shy eyes getting braver. "Okay, take your position," I say.

She turns away from me and bends her knees, her hands in a tight grip on the bat. I'm behind her, giving her some breathing room, but I want to be pressed up against her and feel all that skin. I stay where I am, though, since she has a bat and all. I clear my throat. "Now where do you want the ball to go?"

"Um, second base," she says timidly.

"Okay, so, um," I take another step closer, placing my hand on her hip and rotating it to the left slightly. "Now point your left foot . . ." I bend and slide my hand down her leg, mostly because I want to, but also to position her foot so it's aimed at second base. I stand, catching Bella's eyes. Her mouth is partially open, and she seems a bit confused. Did I do that?

"That's it?" she asks.

"That's it. Now hit it." I place my hand on her waist and point over her shoulder toward second base, my nose against her neck. "Right there."

"Um, you might want to move."

"I don't, really," I say, sneaking a small kiss beneath her ear before giving her room to swing.

She rolls her head, then her shoulders, and bends a little lower. She throws the ball up and whacks it hard, sending it flying over the pitcher's mound and straight toward second base.

She turns to me, her hand dropping low so the bat hits to the ground. "You've been holding out on me."

"I have many skills," I say, rubbing my hands together and giving her my evil genius grin.

"So I've heard," she blurts and quickly covers her mouth in embarrassment. So freaking cute.

"All right, don't hurt yourself there, slugger. Do it again."

I walk to her and make her go through the drill again and again until she gets the hang of it. I think she really got it by the third try, but I kept going, each time taking liberties with where I held her, touched her, and grazed her accidentally.

It was unbelievably awesome to have that freedom but achingly hard to keep myself restrained. There's so much I want to do with her. I just have to catch her first.

A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, tweeting, and voting at TLS. You guys make me smile constantly. I hope I can do the same for you through this story.