Stupid Girl

“Alright Sunshine,” Brax said, breaking me from my thoughts. He stepped off the plate and hit the stop button. “Your turn.”

I stepped inside the cage, and he handed me the bat. “Hold this.” He jogged out to the pitching machine, and then ran back in the easy, bow-legged lope I’d started really looking forward to watching. He grinned, removed his helmet and eased it onto my head. “I readjusted the settings so you’re not swinging at fast balls to start with.” Staht.

I eyed him. “How do you know I can’t hit a fast ball?”

His mouth pulled, amused. “You said you’d never been caged before.”

“Never needed a cage. I had three brothers and an empty hay field.”

“Well,” he said, hit the button on the wall and stepped back. “Let’s see what you do with a fifty mph. Then we’ll go from there.” He didn’t move out of the cage, but stayed off to the side. I could feel his eyes boring into me as I took my stance and stared at the pitching machine. Waiting. The ball pitched, I swung. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! I hit three in a row.

Brax punched the stop button. “All right smartass, let’s work on something here.”

I smiled. Smaht ass. “But I’m hitting them.”

Brax moved behind me, close. “Get in your stance, Gracie.”

I did as he asked, and he moved closer, the length of his body pressing against the length of mine. His hands found their way to my hips, and he straightened them to the position he wanted. “Right here,” he said. “Now back up, stop crowdin’ the plate.” He nuzzled my neck. “Only I can do that.”

I laughed softly, but it was to mask any other uncontrollable girly sound that might escape my mouth. His arms reached around me. “Now hold up your bat.” I did, and he covered my hands with his. “Down just a bit. Right there. Now grip it tight with them long fingers, Gracie. Strong grip.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I peeked down, at the ink and muscles banding his forearms. He was close, his front to my back. I thought I was going to let out an audible sigh. One that Brax would definitely hear. I pinched my lips together, just in case.

“All right, when that ball comes at you, swivel your h*ps with your upper body.” He moved me in the way he meant, his arms and hands over mine on the bat. “Use the strength of your whole body when you bat.” He kissed my ear. “Got it, gorgeous?”

I chanced a peek at him. “I got it, smooth talker.”

The door slammed beside us, and we glanced over to see Cory Maxwell shoot us a look of … disdain? He shook his head, his gaze glaring at Brax, then turned and strode toward the pavilion.

“He seems really mad,” I said. “Is he going to be okay?”

Brax pressed his stubbled jaw to mine, kissed me there. “Yeah. He better be.” He nuzzled me again, and a thrill shot through me. “All right, Sunshine. Let’s see what you can do.”

We hit balls for about an hour, and each time it was my turn Brax decided there was some new basebally secret move or stance or way to hold the bat he needed to show me. We both knew it was flirtatious fun; I wasn’t going to need this baseball knowledge for anything. But it was fun. More than fun. To have Brax’s body against mine, his five o’clock shadow scrubbing my neck, his lips teasing my ear?

He had me at swing batter-batter, swing!

We didn’t stay out too late; at my insistence. And although we grabbed a light supper at Hattie’s, Brax never brought up Kelsy or the parking lot incident or what Kelsy had meant by the words She’s not who you think she is, bro. And I was so glad. On one hand, I’d wanted to tell Brax everything. And, I almost did. I’m not sure even now what held me back. Humiliation? To be frank I was sick to damn death of humiliation.

I decided that I was going to tell him, but not now. Not this night. In the parking lot at Oliver Hall, he pulled up and parked my truck next to his bike. We got out, and Brax leaned me against the fender and kissed me. He cradled my head with his big hands, swept over my lips with his and moved over them in such a seductive way I started to sway. But when I slipped my hands around his neck, twisted my fingers through his soft curls and kissed him back? He groaned against my mouth, urged the kiss deeper, and swallowed my breath. I felt the rough cut on his lip with my tongue; he tasted my old scar. By the time we came up for air, we were both quivering.

He walked me to the door and slid the card for me, and pulled me against him, my cheek against his chest, his chin on the top of my head. “What are you doing to me, Gracie?” he said quietly.

I said nothing, but my only thought was whatever this is, I don’t ever want it to end. Somehow, I’d caved. My heart was invested. Brax meant something to me. And I prayed like crazy it was just as real to him.

15. Infamy

Brax: Wake your ass up, Sunshine.

I grinned as I stared at his text. What a charmer.

Me: I’ve been up, Boston. I had celestial homework on the rooftop. What’s up?

Brax: I’m running late. Celestial you say? Sounds sexy. Meet u in class?

Me: Of course. Everything sounds sexy to you, weirdo. Last one there’s a rotten egg.

Brax: A dare? You’re on. But it’ll be worth more than eggs, sweetheart.

Me: We’ll see.

Brax: L8R beautiful.

Me: You’re crazy.

Brax: I know.

I set my phone down and glanced over at Tessa, still curled up in a ball on her side, buried in the covers. She’d come in late last night, long after Brax and I had said goodbye. “Tess? Are you okay?”

She turned her head and one eye cracked open as she peered through a mossy mass of tangled hair. She groaned. “I don’t feel so good, chica. I’m going to skip class.”

I stared and shook my head. “For shame. Can I get you anything?”

Tessa pulled the covers completely over her head. “Yeah. A hammer. Then you can bonk me on the head with it.”

I laughed lightly and continued getting ready for class. Steven had agreed to take my shift so I could go to Brax’s baseball game Saturday, and I’d taken his shift for tonight. Excitement coursed through me at watching Brax pitch. I could barely wait.

Pulling on a pair of jeans, a cami top and a three-quarter sleeved snap up shirt to wear over it, I hurriedly dressed, pulled on my All-Stars and grabbed my pack and bag. One final glance at Tessa’s huddled form beneath the covers, and I headed out. I hit the stairwell and jogged down to the first floor, but the second I entered the common room, I noticed quite a healthy amount of heads had turned my way. A little self-conscious, I wondered why they were all looking at me. Making my way to the front door, I stepped outside and noticed more students in the parking lot. As I walked, heads turned. What was going on?

“Hey, Olivia.” A hand reached for my arm, and I turned to find a girl named Becca from my astronomy class. In her expression I immediately saw pity. “Do you know who did it? Pretty lame.”

“Did what?”

She pointed. “Isn’t that your truck over there?”

I followed her gaze and pointed finger to where my truck was parked. Several people stood around it, holding their cell phones up. My feet started moving before my brain kicked in, and I started pushing my way through the gathered students toward it. With my heart in my throat, I finally got close enough to see what the fuss was all about. White letters slashed across the hood, fender. Pushing ahead of the people who stood gawking and taking pics, I could do nothing but stare, horrified at the vulgar words scrawled against the blue paint.

Gutter Fuck.

Embarrassment washed through my body, and anger, shock, almost paralyzed me. A few voices filtrated through my brain as I continued to stare. Oh shit, man, that’s harsh, and Oh. My. God. I didn’t look up. Didn’t look at anyone. I just turned, pushed through the crowd and headed back to the dorm to find something to wash it all off. Eyes followed me, of course, all the way back through the common room, and I eased up stairs and into mine and Tessa’s dorm. She lay sleeping, just as I’d left her. Quietly, I grabbed a few older towels I’d brought with me specifically for washing the truck, and just as I was slipping back out the door Tessa stirred.

“Something wrong?” she asked feebly.

“No, go back to sleep,” I said. “Sorry to wake you.” I closed the door and made my way back outside. Thankfully, most of the crowd had dispersed, probably hurrying off to class. But a few other gawkers remained, and for some reason, that irked me. They looked at me as I climbed into the bed of my truck. I held their gaze, annoyed and saying nothing, then knelt down to the toolbox, unlocked it and pulled out the plastic bucket I had stashed. I hurried to the side of our building to the water spigot and filled it up. When I returned, I just dropped to my knees, dunked the towels, and started working on removing the vulgar words. Whoever had done it had graced my tailgate, hood, doors and fenders with the same phrase: Gutter Fuck. Who’d done it? The most likely person to come to mind would be Kelsy. But I’d seen the flash of fear in his eyes when Brax had pulled him off of me in the parking lot. Would he really risk it?

Behind me, comments and snarky laughter didn’t go unnoticed. I heard it. But I wasn’t going to react to it. I was too focused on just getting the job done, and trying not to cry from mortification in the process. Or, from anger. At least the damn shoe polish was coming off. I kept on scrubbing, ignoring the comments, until my arm started to ache. I’d just returned with a new bucket of clean water and was working on the tailgate when a voice startled me.

“What the fuck, Gracie?”

I glanced over to see Brax standing behind me. His features were taut and frightening, fury rolling off him like smoke as he slowly walked around my truck. I continued washing the polish off in silence. He rounded the truck, swearing, then dropped to one knee, grabbed a sopping towel, and started on the hood. He swore some more. Brutal curses that made me cringe each time he spit them out. I thought he might even be madder than me.

After a few minutes passed he dropped beside me and stilled my scrubbing with his hand. “Look at me.”

I stopped, looked up. The intensity of his eyes—so light they almost appeared pale gray—socked me in the gut. It was almost as though he saw inside of me then, saw what those horrible words meant, how they related to the true me. The me he really didn’t know about yet.

“This is f**k crazy bullshit, Gracie,” he said, then ducked his head to look me more squarely in the eye. Or, to make sure I saw him clearly. “You hear me? And none of the pricks taking phone pics and sending them all over the goddamned campus bothered to offer you any help?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared between his feet, then looked up. The expression on his face could only be described as ferocious. “I’m going to find out who did this.” His knuckle lifted my jaw, and he peered closer, deeper. “Do you have any idea—”

Brax stopped his words in mid-sentence, and something dark and frightful flashed in his eyes. His gaze moved across the lot, toward the direction we’d have taken to class.

He simply dropped the sopping wet towel on the concrete and took off running.

“Brax! Don’t!” I hollered. But he didn’t stop. I knew exactly where he was running to. Humanities. And I prayed he didn’t snatch Kelsy out by his throat.

“Holy fuckballs, what happened here?”

Tessa stood, still in her boxers and tee shirt, her hair a wadded mass on the top of her head. She spied the one remaining door we hadn’t cleaned off yet. Her eyes widened.

“How’d you know?” I asked. Then bent down to finish cleaning.

“InstaGram,” she said. “It’s all over campus. Was that Brax taking off just then?”

I nodded. “Yes, and I hope he doesn’t do what I think he’s going to do. His fuse is like a half inch long. He’s got a scholarship to think about.”

Tessa knelt beside me. “Shit. Are you okay?” She bumped her shoulder against mine. “Does this have anything to do with that dude you told me about last night?”

I let out a long breath and looked at my roommate. I’d told her a little about the history between Kelsy and me. Not the entire thing, but enough. “Yeah, it probably does. And yes, I’ll be fine. More embarrassed this morning when I first found it, surrounded by tons of students taking pics of it with their phones.”

“Holy God,” Tessa said, and looked around us. A few students still remained, standing in clusters, unable to stop staring. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered into the bed of the truck, reached in, and turned to the onlookers. “Hey, brainless fucks. How ’bout you stop staring before I stab you in the eye with this tire iron here.” She held it up and waved it with intent to use, and despite my mortification over what’d happened with my truck I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my mouth. Tessa was formidable. A true frightening warrior in plaid shorts. With a grunt she tossed it back into the bed and picked up the towel Brax had discarded. “Douchebags,” she mumbled. “I swear I hate people. I’ll help you finish up this damn mess. So Brax. He was pissed I take it.”

“Yeah, seemed like it.” I wrung out the towel. “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid. Putting something like this before his scholarship would be lunacy. It’s not worth it.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she glanced at me. “But honey, I think you’re worth more to him than anything. Including his scholarship.”

I sighed. “I just don’t want him to get into trouble.”

“Well, trust him, Liv. He didn’t get this far by being an idiot, right? Besides,” she grinned. “He has a reputation to uphold. Can’t go fuckin’ that up now, can he?”