The Boyfriend League

  “Not to be my boyfriend.”

  He sighed. “Okay. I see your point.”

  “So how are we going to handle this?”

  “This is going to sound strange, but what if we pretend, for the next ten minutes, that I don’t live here. I’ll walk you to the door. You go inside, then I’ll get back in my car and drive around the block.”

  I giggled. “That seems a little drastic.”

  “Yeah, but if we don’t do it like this I’m going to be kissing you all the way to your room. We sorta need to break the cycle.”

  “Okay.”

  He kissed me again. Slow. So slow. His fingers in my hair. His thumb drawing a circle on my cheek.

  He drew back. “Okay.”

  He opened the car door and climbed out. I opened the door on my side, and by the time I got out, he was standing there. He took my hand, gave me a quick kiss, and led me to the front porch where my parents had left the light on.

  “I had a really nice time,” I said with a very serious face.

  He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, me, too. Maybe we could go out again sometime.”

  I almost burst out laughing. “I’d like that.”

  “Good night, Dani,” he said quietly.

  Then he took me in his arms and gave me a good-night kiss to remember.

  When he stepped back, I was really sorry to see him go, but I knew we couldn’t stay out there forever.

  “Good night,” I said. I turned to the door, slipped my key into the lock, then turned back around. “You’ll call me, right?”

  He laughed, ducked his head slightly, and grinned at me. “Yeah, I’ll call you.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll short-sheet your bed.”

  With that, I slipped inside, closed the door, and pressed my ear against it, wondering if he was really going to get in his car and drive around the block.

  I heard a car door slam, heard him start the engine…

  I was giddy, so very happy. It seemed silly for him to drive around the block, but on the other hand, it seemed like the perfect way to actually signal the end of our date. I mean, we weren’t married, but we were living in the same house.

  Mom had left a light on in the kitchen. And knowing Mom, she was awake, too. I walked to my parents’ bedroom door and knocked on it.

  “I’m home.”

  “How was the game?” Mom asked.

  “It was fun.”

  “Night, hon.”

  “Night.”

  I went upstairs, thought about going to bed. That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead I went into the game room and turned on the TV.

  And waited.

  But when the door clicked open, it wasn’t Jason, it was Tiffany.

  She sat beside me. “Hey.”

  “So how’d you like the game?” I asked.

  “It was okay. I liked being with Mac a whole lot, so I guess I have to start liking baseball.”

  “You’ll feel different about it when you’re watching him play.”

  “What are you going to do about Jason?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You promised Mom.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know yet, Tiff.”

  “I just want you to know that I won’t say anything, but it seems to me that it’s something that will be really hard to keep a secret.”

  Yeah, it would be. I’d always been honest with my parents.

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Well, I’m going to bed.” She got up. “Unless, you know, you need me to stay to make sure—”

  “I don’t need you to stay.”

  “Okay then. Night.”

  It was a long while later before I heard footsteps on the stairs. Jason looked into the game room, grinned, and opened the door. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

  “What took you so long?”

  He held up the DVD for The Rookie and a bag from Ben & Jerry’s.

  Grinning, I patted the love seat. We could be together in the house without getting into trouble.

  At least, we could try.

  Chapter 23

  The next morning, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out exactly how to handle this relationship with Jason, because I thought it was safe to say that we did indeed have a relationship.

  And we were living in the same house, and that was kinda strange. If I saw him in the hallway, did I just say hi? Did I kiss him good morning? Should I fix him some breakfast?

  I could pour cereal into a bowl. I could slice bananas.

  I heard a shower go on, a distant shower, not in the bathroom next to my room, but in the one across the hall, which meant it was Jason.

  He’d taken at least one shower, usually two a day in that bathroom. So why was I suddenly freaked out by the thought of him in the shower? Naked?

  Oh, gosh, this was insane. What if he opened the door to my bedroom? What if he came inside? What if he wanted to give me a good-morning kiss?

  Okay, that was so not going to happen. Hadn’t we said no kissing in the house?

  Not that the rule had stopped us from kissing in the game room last night after we’d finished our ice cream.

  “I’m still craving the flavor of chocolate chip cookie dough,” he’d said.

  So of course, I’d let him sample.

  But it had been…stressful.

  Because every time the house creaked, we were looking at the French doors expecting to see Dad standing there with a baseball bat in hand.

  So I was pretty sure Jason wasn’t going to come into my room. Even if my parents had already left for work.

  He was going to finish his shower, go downstairs for breakfast, then go to work, then to practice.

  I was trying to decide whether or not to call Bird and invite her to go to lunch with me at Ruby Tuesday. If we did that, then I’d see Jason pretty much all day. And if Bird wasn’t available, maybe Tiffany would be interested.

  Was I really considering hanging out with Tiffany? How weird was that?

  Besides, I was certain she had something to deliver somewhere.

  I was pathetic. I wanted to be with Jason all day, and I couldn’t, because he had commitments. But I could watch him, at least.

  Would that make me a stalker?

  I heard his shower go off. Okay. I had to do something. I had to decide. Did I want to be out in the hallway when he came out of his bedroom? I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet. No way was I going to say good morning if I hadn’t brushed my teeth.

  I heard another shower start up. Tiffany! She’d beat me to the shower.

  What was it about wanting what you couldn’t have?

  I got out of bed, knocked on the bathroom door, and walked in.

  “Hello?!? I’m in the shower,” she said.

  “I’m just going to brush my teeth. Besides, you’ve never been modest before.”

  I grabbed my toothbrush. “Uh, say, did you want to go to Ruby Tuesday for lunch?”

  Had I really asked?

  “Can’t. I have to go practice the national anthem. July Fourth is only a couple of days away.”

  “Oh, right. How’s that new-and-improved version going, by the way?”

  “It’s going great.”

  Terrific. I wasn’t really thrilled to hear that, but I knew Tiffany’s mind was set.

  I brushed my teeth in record time, pulled my hair back, then changed into my scruffy hang-around-the-house shorts and a tank. I went into the hallway. The door to Jason’s room was open, so I hurried past and went down the stairs.

  I found him in the kitchen, at the table in the bay window, already eating his cereal.

  “I was going to fix you breakfast,” I said.

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t want you to put yourself out.”

  “No one can pour cereal like I can. That’s true.”

  I crossed the kitchen. He scooted his chair back, and
I sat on his lap and put my arms on his shoulders.

  “Good morning,” I said, right before I kissed him.

  Oh, yes, this was definitely the way to start the day.

  “We’re in the house,” he said when we stopped kissing. “Thought we had a rule about not kissing in the house.”

  “Yeah, we also had a house rule—no falling for the player living with us. You see how good I am at following rules.”

  He grinned. “Lucky for me. Why don’t you come to Ruby Tuesday for lunch?”

  “Okay.”

  “Then practice.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Maybe we could do something afterward.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He kissed me again. He tasted like bran flakes and raisins and bananas.

  Me, I tasted like chocolate chip cookie dough.

  It was an odd combination but it somehow worked.

  Chapter 24

  “Telling the guy I’ve come to think of as a son that he’s got to move out.”

  Dad had agreed to be interviewed for my article.

  And that was his response to my question about the most difficult part of having a Ragland Rattler living in the house.

  I sat at the table in the kitchen, stunned, staring at him. It was only Day One following our trek to the Rangers’ game. We hadn’t even seen Mom and Dad since we got home last night, at least not until fifteen minutes ago when we’d returned from practice. And we’d been so careful not to look at each other, not to touch, not to even grin at each other.

  No way could they have figured out what was going on between Jason and me!

  Right now he was upstairs taking a shower, since he was all grimy following practice. Tiffany had taken Mac to Lettuce Eat, a salad bar extravaganza. I couldn’t see that working out, but if it did, I figured Mac’s feelings for her were true. Mom was setting Cowboy Bob’s rotisserie chicken, hash brown casserole, and sweet corn casserole on the counter, so we could serve ourselves buffet style.

  “Why…why do you think you need to do that?” I asked.

  Dad touched his glasses. “These work you know.”

  “Only for close up.”

  Shaking his head, he gave me an indulgent grin. “Dani, your mom and I were young once. We see the way you and Jason look at each other.”

  I glanced over at Mom. She was leaning against the counter, her arms crossed.

  “I know I promised—” I began.

  “Sweetie, no girl is going to keep that kind of promise when she starts falling for a guy. But you could have said something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…‘we have problem.’”

  “In all honesty, we didn’t realize we had a problem until last night,” Jason said from the doorway.

  My heart lurched at the sight of him holding his duffle bag.

  “You don’t have to move out,” I said coming to my feet. I turned to my dad. “Tell him, tell him he doesn’t have to move out.”

  “Yeah, I do, Dani.” Jason looked at my parents. “I talked with Coach after practice. I’m going to bunk at his place.” He grinned, actually grinned, while I was rushing into full-scale panic at the thought of him leaving. “Coach says he always keeps a bedroom available for just such an emergency.”

  “Well, son,” Dad said, “I’m sure glad you took the initiative on that, because I wasn’t looking forward to talking to you about it.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Jason was moving out. We’d only really just discovered each other.

  Jason pulled a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. “Actually, I signed a contract stating I’d move out if I kissed either of your daughters more than twice.”

  “The League makes you sign a contract?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “Uh, no, your mom did, that first night.”

  “Mom!” I couldn’t believe she did that.

  “Like your dad said, I was young once.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to move out?” I asked Jason.

  “Because I thought you might try to talk me out of it.”

  I scowled at him. I would have.

  Mom smiled. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

  “I’m going to miss all the takeout,” Jason said later, after dinner, when I walked him out to his car. “Coach said his wife cooks their meals every night.”

  “That’s really why you’re leaving, isn’t it?” I asked. “For real home-cooked meals?”

  He put his hands on my waist, drew me near. “If you knew how hard I found it to stay on my side of the hall last night after we finished watching the movie…” He shook his head. “Your parents absolutely wouldn’t approve of the direction that my thoughts are going. With or without your mom’s contract, I’d move out.”

  “I can’t believe she did that.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, it was that first night, after she came out of your room.”

  “Weren’t you offended?”

  “How could I be? I started falling for you as soon as you bumped into me. I knew I could be a goner so easily.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. And when I pictured you in shoulder pads and a helmet—”

  I shoved his shoulder. “You did not!”

  “Oh, yeah, I did. And I thought, of all the girls in this town, she is the one that I absolutely can’t find fascinating.”

  “Is that the reason you sounded like you really didn’t want to take me home after that first night of pizza?”

  “Yep. I wanted to limit contact. I was trying so hard not to fall for you.”

  “Well, that’s why I knocked you over,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “Will you still come play ball with Dad?”

  “Sure. But you have to play, too.”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  It was so, so hard—a dozen kisses later—watching him leave. But at least I knew he’d be back. There was a free concert tomorrow night. Maybe we’d go.

  After Jason left, I went into the backyard. Dad was sitting on the deck, doing some sketching. Another project for someone’s backyard.

  “Hey, Dad, want to play a little pitch?”

  He did his Bruce Willis grin. “You bet. You’re still my favorite ball-tosser.”

  Chapter 25

  The Fourth of July game against the Denton Outlaws was a sellout. I was practically sitting in Bird’s lap behind home plate.

  I hadn’t seen Jason before the game. His living in another house had definite drawbacks. But it also had its perks.

  Only a couple of days had passed since he’d moved out, but when we were together there was an intensity to it, because we knew our time was short. We made the most of every minute. Kissing, laughing, talking about nothing and everything.

  Big surprise. Mom had instituted a curfew. Like there was something we’d do after midnight that we wouldn’t do before. But neither of us was bothered by her restrictions. Between Jason working, practicing, and playing, we weren’t going to stay out that late anyway. Still, I did miss watching movies and sharing ice cream with him late into the night.

  But that morning, on his way to work, he’d dropped off a box—and a kiss. A couple of kisses, actually.

  Have I mentioned that he’s a terrific kisser? Long, slow kisses, exactly the way that I knew I’d like them.

  After he left I opened the box. Inside I found a note:

  For tonight’s game.

  —J

  And a jersey. RATTLERS was written across the front. On the left side and on the back was the number eleven. Jason’s number.

  I was wearing it now with jeans, sneakers, and my Ragland Rattlers baseball cap. As soon as the game ended, they were going to shoot off fireworks. Bird and I planned to join the team on the field when that happened. Or more accurately, join our boyfriends.

  Mom didn’t usually come to the ball games, but she was there tonight, sitting on the top row with Dad, video camera at the ready.

 
Because, of course, Tiffany was walking onto the field. She was wearing red leather boots, a blue jean skirt, and a shirt that looked a lot like the Texas flag with one huge white stripe, one red stripe, and a patch of blue with a white star on it. A red bandanna graced her throat. The tiara sitting on her hair reflected the setting sun.

  “She does realize this game isn’t televised, doesn’t she?” Bird asked.

  “When you are Miss Teen Ragland, you are always on stage,” I said, repeating something Tiffany had told me.

  She was still spending time with Mac. It wasn’t awkward seeing them together. Now that I was with Jason, I’d come to realize that Mac had never really been my boyfriend. He’d simply been the guy who…well, just the guy, really. The guy I stood or sat next to. The guy I’d sometimes kissed.

  He hadn’t been the guy who made my heart pound or my smile broaden or my happiness increase. He hadn’t been the one with whom I wanted to share moments. He wasn’t the one for whom I’d designated a section of my bedroom wall for marking memories.

  Every night before I went to bed, I touched the Rangers cap hanging on the wall and wondered what other caps might join it. Jason had been talking about us driving to Oklahoma City to watch a Redhawks game. After that, who knew?

  “If you’ll all stand for the national anthem,” the announcer boomed over the sound system.

  Along with everyone else, I got to my feet. I looked at the players lined up along the baseline, hats over their hearts. I spotted Jason, and wondered if I’d ever known such contentment at a ball game, if I’d ever really felt that I was so much a part of a game that I wasn’t actually playing in.

  “Singing the national anthem tonight, we are honored to have with us Miss Teen Ragland, Tiffany Runyon,” the announcer continued.

  Tiffany raised her hand and waved, like she was sitting on a float, while the crowd clapped and cheered. I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled.

  When the crowd quieted, Tiffany began to sing without any music accompanying her.

  All I can say is that she belted out that song like she was standing on the deck of a ship watching the rockets’ red glare. She didn’t hold the notes longer than they should have been held or add any extra notes to the song. She sang it the way it was supposed to be sung.