The Rocky Road Pact

Chapter 7: Danger Zone

I didn't see it happen, but he snatched the ball out of the air with his bare hand. I know how much it stings to catch a fast ball with my glove on, I couldn't imagine doing it bare-handed. The rumours were true: the guy was tough as shit.

It took me a moment to fully register what happened, that Tommy effectively killed my home run. My admiration for his athletic talent quickly turned pissy. He ruined my moment and the game. 

He tossed the ball to the pitcher and said, 'sorry.' There was a round of cheers and jeers; I joined in the chorus of complainers. 

"Way to ruin the game, asshole," I yelled, a bit louder than intended. He stopped his slow saunter across the field and turned to look at me, a smirk playing on his lips. 

"Hey, it was either catch the ball or take it to the face. I ain't getting my pretty face smashed in, even for you, Doll." The smirk grew into a mischievous smile, and he continued on his way, taking his time while the teams argued among themselves about whether the hit counted or not. He didn't look angry at me, quite the opposite — his eyes were warm on mind. I felt an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach, a fluttering like a bunch of tiny fireflies.

"Hey, want to play on our team? We'd love to have you," Creegan yelled to him as he walked away. 

"Naw man, I'm good. Just passin' through." With that, he headed into the woods behind the ball field. He was tall and broad, with muscular arms and shoulders and he walked with a slow, relaxed confidence. 

I let the coaches argue the play and went to the benches to get a drink. Suddenly, my mouth was very dry. Doll? I didn't know whether to be pissed or flattered. My stomach fluttered again when I remembered how he looked at me with those dark eyes. 

"He's so mysterious," Heather said, twirling a long strand of hair around her finger as she watched him walk away. "And look at that butt!"

Look, I did. He indeed had a very nice butt that filled out his acid wash jeans perfectly. 

"He's also really good in bed."

I nearly choked on my Tab. "What? How would you know, Heather?"

"Oh, I know," she said with a smile. "He's special."

"What do you mean?" Suddenly all the girls were quiet and focused on her and all conversation stopped.

"Let's just say he knows what he's doing," she said. "And that mouth..."

I felt scandalized and intrigued. I wanted to ask more but the coach called us back into the game and I was back up at bad for a re-do. This time I struck out completely, my mind on Tommy Slade and his not-so-hidden talents. I wondered what all the fuss was about.

What could that mouth do? 

"He's a freak. Don't go near that guy. I heard he put some guy in the hospital and went to juvie for months," Beth said to me as we packed up our gear at the end of the game. 

"Me? I can't stand the guy. He ruined the ballgame!"

"I saw how you were looking at him." Beth said, smugly, crossing her arms. She always was a busybody crossed with a know-it-all. 

"So you think all that stuff about him being good in the sack is bullshit?" I said.

"Oh no, that's true. I heard the same thing from Janey Thompkins. The guy's a stud and he gets around. One thing I'll say about him, he's discreet. Once he gets it, he doesn't go bragging about it like the other guys. But stay away from him. He's dangerous," she said.

I was quiet in the car on the way home. Creegan was rambling on, but I was tuned out. 

"And don't forget about the bonfire on the beach later tonight," he said. 

"Huh?" That was the last thing I wanted to do. Sure enough the good mood dissipated as soon as the game was over. My pyjamas and soft, tear soggy bed were calling to me. I had a date with depression and I was already late. 

"What's up with you?" he said. "You're so distracted today. You never strike out!"

"That guy threw me off. Tommy Slade. I can't believe he ruined the game like that, what an asshole."

"Tommy's alright," Creegan said. "He doesn't judge anybody. Does his own thing. Minds his business. He helped me with Moose that day, remember?"

"I remember," I said. I mostly remembered him taking his shirt off.

"Well, ever since that day, every time he saw me he'd always tell me to keep my chin up, keep swinging. I appreciated that. I think Tommy's troubled but he's a good guy."

"Huh," I said, thinking about it. A troubled good guy. Or was he a bad boy with a good side? 

"Still, that doesn't explain why you're so spaced out. Did Brandon call?"

"No." It was Day 12 and Brandon still had not called, written a letter or anything. It was like I never existed — we never existed. 

"Well, screw him. Look, there are two types of people in this world: givers and takers. You are a giver, and Brandon is just a taker. He took all of your time, your attention and your love and what did he give you back? Fuck all. It never would have worked out. Why don't you get back on the horse? Find some other guy to obsess over."

"I'm not obsessed over Brandon!" 

I was still so confused and hurt over what Brandon did. But for once, that wasn't the reason why I was so unfocused. My mind kept wandering to what the girls said about Tommy Slade. How it would be nice to be with someone who knew what they were doing. It would make me forget all about Brandon. 

OR. 

I could learn a few things.

The seed of an idea began to form. 

"Now, you're smiling. What are you up to?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just an idea." I didn't know yet if it was a good idea, or something that would land me in a lot of trouble. But it was definitely worth pursuing.