9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Abby
T he bleachers are full for this game. They traveled to the opposing team's field today. The team took a bus, so I took my bike. It was a nice thirty minutes of free riding by myself. I pulled up shortly after the bus pulled into the lot. Dallas found me quickly, let me know where the best seats were, and scurried off with his team to get ready.
It’s been overcast all day. Storms threaten the skyline, but they’ve held off so far. Everyone’s praying the rain waits until the game is over for obvious reasons. They’ll play through the rain, but if thunder and lightning come, they’ll have to pause the game and may even postpone if it doesn’t pass quickly.
Of course, I didn’t think to check the weather before leaving this morning, but I don’t mind riding in the rain as much as most people do. It’s peaceful on the backroads as long as it’s not downpouring.
Players file out from the building behind the bleachers. The other team, dressed in black and green uniforms, takes their place on the right while Oxly takes their place to the left, their white and yellow uniforms a stark contrast to the other team. Warmups are quick. Dallas, Logan, and Connor stand in a triangle throwing to each other. A few other players practice their swings. It’s the same as at home, but the location is different.
Oxly is up to bat first. Logan sends one to center field and pauses on first. A few other players strike out before the top of the first ends. By the fourth inning, Oxly is down by one. From where I sit, I can hear Coach Charlie barking orders. When the ninth inning starts, the storm clouds look like they’re ready to open. Everyone seems to be a little rushed. Oxly is now down by two. Losing this game doesn’t disqualify them, but it would create pressure for the next game. They’d have to win that one to continue.
Dallas is up first this time. He readies his stance and swings, sending one low into left field. His feet carry him easily to second. Another player hits a home run, sending both players home.
The game is tied.
Both teams huddle once the top of the inning ends. They send Dante back out to the mound. Dallas prepares behind home base. Dante shakes his head a few times before okaying one of Dallas’s signals. He throws two fastballs and then a changeup. First batter out. The second batter makes contact and hits one to right field, but Oxly misses the catch, and the other team stays at first. The third batter hits, leaving one on first and second. The fourth batter hits one far into left field. It hits the ground before Oxly picks it up. The other team rounds third, heading for home. Logan catches the throw just before someone lands on third and throws it quickly to home base. It’s too close to tell if the opposing team made it before Dallas catches the final throw. Everyone waits, breaths held firm before the ump calls it safe.
That’s the game. Oxly loses by one.
Almost on command, a crack of thunder rips through the sky, and the clouds open, sending everyone scattering for shelter.
The other team jumps into a huddle to dump their remaining water jug onto their coach.
Oxly gathers in their dugout for a final few words before disappearing into the building again. I shelter myself in the small, covered entrance of the building and check the radar. It won't be long before this passes. I might as well wait it out, at least the worst of it.
Players file out of the building slowly. Dallas and Logan eventually exit, too.
“Good game,” I say when Dallas stops next to me. Logan runs through the rain for the bus.
“Thanks. It was a good challenge. They have a better batting average than we do.”
“You’ll get them at the next one.”
“Let’s hope, otherwise we won’t be going anywhere after that.”
“Well, I believe in you.”
He smiles and places a kiss on my forehead. “You going to be okay riding in this?” He looks out at the rain now coming down in slanted sheets.
I shrug. “I’ll wait until it dies down. The radar says the worst of it should be done soon. A little rain never hurt anyone.”
He looks down at what I’m wearing, my usual skinny jeans and black shirt. A sweatshirt is tied around my waist. Then he looks to his chest, his white shirt. “If only that shirt were white, we could have a wet T-shirt contest when we get home, " he smirks.
I poke him in the stomach, and he flinches away with a laugh. “Who says you’d win? Because I guarantee you'd still choose me if the decision were up to you.”
“Oh, I don’t care who actually wins. It’d be a win-win for me either way.” And then his eyes run the length of my body. Heat pools at my core at the thought of us standing in the rain, drenched. And part of me wants to do just that. I fight the urge to pull him backward with me into the rain. I’ve never made out with someone in the rain before. I think that’s on a lot of people's bucket lists. I know it’s on mine.
I peek toward the bus where his teammates' faces are glued to the windows in anticipation of what might happen. “Okay, hot shot. Put your dick away before you have to ride home with your bag on your lap.”
“Too late,” he says before leaning down to kiss me. Whistles and chants sound from the open windows on the bus. Dallas smiles into the kiss, prolonging it before pulling away. “Ride safe,” he says, eyeing me seriously.
“I will.”
His teammates' heads stick out the windows, watching the display. He jogs through the rain and hops on the bus. They dip their heads back in when the doors close and the bus pulls away moments later.
When I get back, drenched from the rain that didn’t let up like it was supposed to, Dallas meets me at the front door. He had to have been waiting for me. He opens the door for me quickly when I approach. He takes my helmet from me and kisses me all in one motion. “You want to go for an afternoon snack?”
I’m still getting used to all the “normal” kisses. The ones from the hellos and goodbyes. The “just because I can” ones. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do that so casually. Sam and I stopped at some point. I don’t remember when, but that piece of the relationship died off. With Dallas, it’s easy, natural.
I look down at my dripping clothes and the braids hanging over each shoulder. “Do I have time to shower first?”
“If I had to guess, I’d think you already took one.”
I laugh but head up the stairs in front of him. “Where are we going?”
“I figured we could go see Rose at work. I haven’t seen her since we met up at Mom’s office, and I think she could use some company. She texted me saying it’s been dead all afternoon from the storm and she’s bored.”
“I could go for a smoothie.”
After a quick shower and throwing on some dry clothes, we head back out.
The shop is cute. It’s decorated to the high heavens in pastels. A large, pink neon sign that reads “Beans and Berries” hangs on the left wall over an array of fake vines. The opposite wall is lined with small booths of varying colors. Small two-seater tables sit scattered around the open floor. Not a single person dwells in the café.
“Oh, thank God you’re here. I was starting to go crazy.” Rose runs around from behind the counter to hug us at the same time.
“Are you here alone?” Dallas asks, looking around at how empty the place is.
“For now. The manager had to run to get a few things. She figured I’d be fine without her since it’s so dead.” She returns to her spot behind the counter. “You two want anything? It’s all really good but my favorite is a classic strawberry banana smoothie.”
“I’ll take one of those,” I say.
Dallas looks over the large menu board hanging at an angle above Rose. “I’ll take the Berries Galore, whatever that is.”
Rose laughs and gets started on our smoothies.
We take a seat at one of the tables by the front window, settling into the slightly padded seats. Heavy rain pounds against the window, falling past the shop’s logo stuck to the glass. The top of our table has a painting of a sun on it, but it’s not very well done. I look around at the rest of the tables and notice that only one other tabletop has been painted with a tree, also not very good.
“Who painted these?” I yell at Rose as she makes the drinks.
She waits until the blender stops and carries them to us before responding. “Honestly, I think the owner tried to but stopped when she realized how bad of a painter she was.”
We all chuckle at that. I take a sip of my drink and can’t help the satisfied sound coming from my throat. Dallas does the same. We trade cups to sip from each other's smoothies before returning them. “These are delicious. I bet the coffee is just as good.”
“Wouldn’t know myself. I don’t like coffee,” Rose says, hands on her hips, smiling delightfully at our appreciation of her work.
I raise my brows and smirk. “You two and your jobs.”
Rose looks at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I look between them. I think Dallas gets my drift, but Rose doesn’t. “Dallas is a bartender who doesn’t drink. You’re a barista who hates coffee. The irony is strong here.”
Rose and Dallas chuckle at that. “Fair point,” she says.
The three of us sit and chat for a while until a customer enters, orders a smoothie, and leaves again. Dallas and I spend another hour talking with her before deciding to leave.
“Rose,” I say, pausing at the front door. “Before we go, I have a question for you.”
“Yeah?” she says, looking up from cleaning one of the blenders.
“Would you come with me to the LAO awards ceremony? I have one more ticket and would love for you to join. Plus, as much as I love Logan, I don’t think he’s much of a black-tie kind of guy.”
Dallas laughs. “I think he’d show up in jeans and a T-shirt before you got him anywhere near a dress shirt.”
“That’s what I thought,” I laugh.
I look back at Rose, who beams behind the counter. “I would be honored. Congrats, by the way. Dallas texted me the other day to let me know.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “Oh, and one more thing. Talk to your boss about seeing if she’d be interested in hiring someone to paint these tables. I know just the person for the job.”
“I’ll have to ask her about that. She’s mentioned wanting to finish them since they’re the only thing left that needs doing. I’ll check with her when she gets back.”
Meredith would be a perfect fit to paint these tables. The style of this shop is right up her alley. It’s pastel and quirky, yet stylish and fun. She’d get a kick out of it.
“Can you help me?” I yell out the bathroom door toward Dallas, who’s been watching TV with Logan since getting back from the gym.
There’s commotion from the living room before he fills the doorway. “I’m not sure I’ll be much help here.” He looks around at all the hair dye products strewn about the counter and then at my half-done head.
“It’s just black all over. It doesn’t take any skill. But it’s so much easier to get the back with someone else’s help.” He takes a step forward. “Wait, go change into clothes you don’t care about first. Just in case.” He’ll look like a zebra in that white shirt if he doesn’t.
He leaves and returns in a dark gray T-shirt and a pair of sweats. I hold out the brush to him and he hesitates before taking it.
“If this turns out like shit, don’t blame me.” He positions himself behind me.
I explain the process and hand him a pair of gloves before he dips the brush into the hair dye and starts at the nape of my neck like I instructed.
He pulls at the neckline of my shirt with his fingers. “You’re not wearing something I should be scared of getting this on, right? Because I can’t promise your shirt will be clean once I’m done.”
“No. This is my designated hair-dying shirt. Why do you think there are so many colors on the shoulders?” I chuckle but force myself to stop when I remember he has a wand of black dye in his hand. I may not care about the clothing, but it does stain the skin for a day or two.
“Just making sure.” He goes silent as I watch his movements in the mirror, his mouth falling into a flat line, and he squints his eyes ever so slightly as he focuses on his strokes. He’s cute when he does this. I only ever see him this focused when he’s listening intently to someone or something. It’s how I know he’s truly invested in something.
Sam used to help me dye my hair, even if reluctantly. He never focused this hard on how it looked. I stopped asking after a while because he would just slap the color on and hope it turned out okay rather than listening to my instructions and letting me part the hair for him.
But Dallas, he’s coating every strand as if this is the only thing that matters in the world right now. He dips the brush again while I separate a new section, and he gets right back to work.
“Have you done this before?”
“Never. Am I doing it wrong?” He pulls the brush away from my hair and peeks around my head to see me.
“Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m impressed.”
He smiles and resumes the hair dying. Once the back of my head is finished, I plop all my coated hair into a bun at the top of my head and cover it in a shower cap.
“Wow. Now that is a look.” He grins and leans against the door frame.
I roll my eyes. “Get used to it. I’ll be dying my hair black until the day I die.” He chuckles and starts to leave. “Wait, don’t go far. I may want your help washing it out, too.”
He peeks toward the living room where Logan sits and then re-enters the bathroom. He shoots me a devilish eye and lowers his voice. “Does that mean we get to shower together?” He holds my hips tight against his.
I look up and narrow my eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I would indeed.”
I stare at him a moment, holding his eager gaze, and then slink out of his grasp. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and sighs. “Nice try, but no. I’ll just dip my head over the edge and pull down the extension. It’ll keep the black from getting all over the walls and curtain.”
He thinks for a moment. “I hate it when you’re right.”
I hold my hand to my ear and say, “What was that? Did I just hear that right?”
He drops his head back with a laugh. “Okay, smartass. Don’t push your luck.” He pecks me on the lips and disappears out of the bathroom before I can respond.