A Boy Like You (Like Us Book 1)(7)

The boys hit for about half an hour while Taryn and I both smoke a  cigarette. I'm stomping mine out when TK hops back over the fence from  grabbing the ball I fouled off into the field. He steps up next to me,  nudging me with the bucket of balls.

"That's bad for you, ya know. You should quit," he says, nodding toward the butt on the ground.

"Yeah, well … I've got a long list of shit I should quit, TK. Trust me  when I say smoking every now and then is the least of my problems." I  smile at him after I talk. I think I'm clever, but he doesn't look  amused. It makes me a little uncomfortable; I look away quickly, bending  down to pick up the smooshed cigarette end. I may have a laundry list  of bad habits, but littering isn't one of them. I carry it in my palm to  the trash at the end of the dugout then fall into step alongside TK,  Taryn on my other side. Levi and Wes walk several steps in front of us.  Levi looks over his shoulder a few times; Wes only picks up his pace,  like he can't drop Taryn and me off fast enough.

"So, Boss," TK says. I sigh, but I give in to the smile. I hate to admit  it, but I kind of like this new nickname. I think I also like that he's  moved on from my smoking and other flaws. "That's some swing," he says,  gesturing toward the field behind us with his neck. "You play, right?"

Before I can answer, Taryn snickers. I roll my eyes and push her off balance, making her stumble a few steps.

"Joss Winters is the best shortstop in California," she blurts out,  sticking her tongue out at me as she takes a step to the side so I can't  hit her again.

"Ah, I don't know about that," TK says. "I'm pretty sure I'm the best shortstop in California."

I look down at my feet and let my smile crease my cheeks before I pull my phone from my pocket and pretend I'm getting a call.

"What? Who are you looking for? TK?" I say to my fake caller. I hold the  device in my hand to face him, and he pinches his brow. "It's the  President. He wants you to know that you're actually number two now."

It takes a few seconds for TK to let his laughter break through, but  when it does, it's easy and comforting. I like that I can tease him.         

     



 

"You all go to North?" Taryn asks. I can tell TK's answer is the one she  really cares about. She's never been good at hiding her emotions, and  she bites at her bottom lip now like a child asking Santa for the latest  hot toy.

"We start at South on Monday. Just moved here," TK answers. Taryn nods,  her eyes flashing a hell yeah to mine in a split second. I think about  his words for a few seconds, glancing up at the rest of the we walking  in front of us.

"You all just moved here?" I let my question spill out slowly, noticing  Wes doesn't pause or even seem to acknowledge my question at all. I'm  starting to get the sense that he's not real thrilled about giving us a  ride home.

"Yep," Levi says, spinning around and walking backward for a few steps. "We're brothers."

I nod, sucking my lip tightly while I do my best to attempt to understand how they all fit together without asking.

"You're … seniors?" I settle on nailing down their ages first.

"Close, Cher-" TK starts, stopping his slip up mid-word, shaking his  head, and chuckling to himself. "Damn, that became habit fast. I meant  Boss. And no … we're juniors. You?"

"Me and Taryn are too," I say, tugging my shirt snug to my body as the sun starts to set. The wind is picking up some.

We're getting closer to the truck, and Wes hasn't said a word. I'm not  even sure he actually speaks. He reaches the locked gate first, stepping  up easily and placing one foot on the chain while he swings his body  over to the other side. He turns his hat backward before reaching to the  top of the fence to take the bucket of balls from Levi, but just before  the exchange, his eyes move to mine. It's such a small glance, and I'm  right in front of him; there really wasn't anywhere else for his gaze to  land. But somehow it also feels choreographed, as if he'd been working  this trip out several steps ahead of the rest of us just so he'd have  this chance to silently confront me, study me, and look at me like this  through a thin layer of chain link, close enough to touch if it weren't  for the metal barrier between us. My stomach knots, and I feel uneasy  under his scrutiny-it feels like a warning.

This is unfair coming from eyes like that.

"Hey, wait … " Levi says after passing the bucket over. Wes turns away the  second Levi speaks, so I give him all of my attention, my eyes wide,  and my lips sealed. "You're not related to Eric Winters, are you?"

I squeeze at my sleeve, which is now bunched in my palm, and rap my  knuckles against my thigh as my teeth clench and my lips force out a  smile. It's not Levi's fault he's so enthusiastic about my connection to  Coach Winters. He plays baseball, and my father will love him. He'll  love all three of them, actually. And Eric Winters is a big deal when it  comes to California baseball. Seven state titles, forty-plus college  players, and a dozen drafted into the majors. Unfortunately, his  statistics in the father department suck ass.

"That's why you're so good!" he says, taking a step back, as if he's  surprised. I try to remind myself that his reaction isn't his fault.  It's normal, the same assumption everyone makes. It still irks me, and  my mind still runs through the same sarcastic response I usually give.  Yes-this is the secret to my success, Levi. You've pieced it together. I  have spectacular genes when it comes to running bases and throwing a  ball. No effort of my own went into my talent on my part whatsoever.

"Or maybe she just practices harder than you do," Wes's voice breaks  through my inner dialogue. He rolls his eyes at Levi, taking the bats  through the fence as he defends me without my asking, without knowing he  should. His eyes graze over mine again as he turns, pausing for a  beat-long enough that I feel it and blink.

He was giving his brother shit, mostly. But he was also saying what I  wouldn't. Thanks. The word passes through my head, through my chest, but  then the second he turns and steps to the truck it's gone.

"Right, no … I didn't mean that. I only meant that's cool and all-your  dad," Levi stutters, glancing to me before climbing over the fence,  focusing on his hands and feet. I see him shake his head to admonish  himself; he's embarrassed.

"I know what you meant. Yeah, it's … cool … I guess," I say, looking to  Taryn before fitting my shoes into the fence holes so I can climb. She  holds her mouth in a tight line in response, because she's been with me  through it all, and she knows my father's failures all too well. No  sense in tearing him down in front of these three, though.         

     



 

We all clear the fence, and Wes secures the equipment against the cab in  the back of the truck. Levi and TK jump in the back, insisting Taryn  and I sit up front. I climb in reluctantly, not really wanting to sit so  close to Wes, but Taryn doesn't follow. I should have known she'd want  to ride in the back near TK. I'm going to be in here with him-Mr.  Talkative-completely alone. I guess I can fill most of the time with  directions to my house.

I scoot closer to the door and pull it shut before reaching for the  seatbelt. I hear Wes's door close, but I don't look at him. On instinct,  I start to hold my breath, like I'm in the middle of some dare, being  trapped in a box-a box with a boy that I can't deny is hot, if not for  his personality shortcomings.

The seatbelt won't click, and I feel my lungs starting to ache from the  lack of breath, and the more I fumble with the metal clip and the  buckle, the more panic seeps through my veins and starts to take over my  muscle control.

Wes clears his throat before sliding his hand along the seat toward my  failed attempts, and my eyes widen at the sight of his fingertips moving  closer to mine. I let go of the belt completely, but before it has a  chance to retract and slide back over my body, Wes catches it. My eyes  dart to his, and he holds onto our stare while he easily clicks my  buckle in place.

"You were putting it in the wrong side," he says, the edge of his mouth  lifting, briefly. It makes a temporary dimple on his cheek, and my eyes  zero in on that while it's there.

"Oh, thanks," I say. My hands tingle with the shot of adrenaline I feel  from talking with him, this close, alone. I curl my hands tightly and  bring them in my lap to rid myself of the sensation. I don't like  it-it's out of my control.

He pulls his own belt over his chest then turns the key, the truck  shaking a little with its effort to start. That one small fraction of a  smile and those few words are all I'm going to get-he's focused  completely on his mirrors and the dirt road ahead now.

I pull my sleeves over my hands again, looking at my short, ripped  fingernails. I spare a glance to my left and notice Wes's eyes on my  hands, so I pull my sleeve ends completely over them before tucking my  hands under my thighs. His eyes move back to the road when I do.