“We’re gonna head back to the baseball house.” Shaw approaches the bar where Z and I are sitting huddled together looking through the dozen or more pictures I took trying to show Zeke out having fun with his teammates. He said hell no when I suggested a photo op with the other guys. So instead the pictures are of Zeke by himself trying to act casual and comfortable when he’s obviously anything but. No surprise that we’re struggling to agree on a picture we both like.
“Thanks for letting me crash. I had fun.”
“Any time.” Shaw smiles and moves in for a drunken hug, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing. He’s warm and I can feel his muscles working under the plain white t-shirt. Zeke clears his throat, but Shaw continues to hold me tight for a good three seconds more before he eases his hold on me and looks to Zeke. “Why don’t you guys come back with us? It’s a good night for beers on the patio.”
“No.” “Yes!” Zeke and I say at the same time.
His big pouty lips pull into an adorable frown that isn’t the least bit intimidating. Well, to me. Shaw takes another step back as Z asks, “How are you getting there?”
“Oh, uh.” I look to Shaw for help.
He stares down at his shoes sheepishly. “Can you give us a lift?”
Light brown eyes flit from Shaw to me and his big chest heaves with a sigh. I like him like this – out pretending to have fun, socializing, being coerced into being the sober driver.
“Shotgun,” I call.
At the baseball house, Zeke parks and gets out of the car with us.
“Look at you!” I exclaim, skipping around the car toward him. “You’re having so much fun you can’t bear to go home yet. Admit it.”
His lips turn up slightly and I loop my arm through his. On the back patio, a couple guys are already sitting around drinking and Shaw makes introductions while Zeke gets me, and surprisingly him, another beer.
There are eight of us in total and we sit around a circle in mismatched lawn chairs. A fire pit in the middle lets off just enough warmth to keep the night chill out of the air. Valley days are hot, but the nights get surprisingly cool.
I’m nursing my beer when I glance over and see Zeke’s eyes are closed. Reaching out with my foot, I nudge his leg and he opens one eye.
“Why don’t you go home and go to bed, old man?” I tease, but my chest tightens with disappointment that he might really leave.
He sits upright. “You ready to go?”
“No, but you obviously are. You can’t even keep your eyes open.”
“Just tired,” he says and runs a hand over his head. It makes the coolest sound as his palm moves back and forth over the short hair.
“So why did you come then?”
“Just looking out for you. Nathan bailed and I don’t trust these guys to keep you out of trouble.”
“Looking out for me?” I repeat it and mull over his choice of words. It suddenly feels way too hot outside for a fire. “Keep me out of trouble?”
“Yeah, I promised Blair I’d keep an eye on you this week.”
My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I stand and move into the house draining what’s left of the warm beer in my hand.
Zeke’s loud steps sound behind me. “To be clear, no one forced me to be here tonight or the other night. Blair was just—”
I face off with him, arms crossed over my chest, and he stops talking. “I don’t need a babysitter.” But… lemons meet lemonade. If he wants to be my chaperone, then so be it. “But, since you’re on duty, I need your help.”
He doesn’t move as I ransack the bathroom and return with two rolls of toilet paper. I hold them out and ask, “Any other bathrooms in the house? Upstairs maybe?”
“Stocking up?”
“No, silly, we’re going to TP them.”
He shakes his head and takes a step back. “Uh-uh.”
“Come on. It’ll be awesome.” I stick my bottom lip out, but unsurprisingly Zeke doesn’t react to my adorable pouty expression except to shake his head again.
“Fine. I’ll do it myself.” I march out of the house and to the front. Looking around at the houses and the cars driving by, my nerves arrive to the scene. I make a mental plan, complete with design aesthetic, and am just about to move to action when I hear the front door open and close behind me. The smile on my face can’t be helped.
“Good. I’m going to need your height,” is all I say as I hand him a roll.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Oh, lighten up. It’s just a little toilet paper.”
I lead us to the tallest tree in the yard, a mesquite that’s bent and curved toward the neighbor’s house. “Lift me up.”
I expect more excuses when his hands are suddenly at my hips, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. I falter with the roll in my hand.
“Any day now.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit.
My body is hoisted higher and then my ass makes contact with his shoulder.
“Unroll it a bit.” I do as he instructs, and he nods. “That’s it. Now hold the free end and toss the roll.”
I’m frozen, feeling unsure. Maybe he was right. This might be a terrible idea.
“If anyone asks, I’m denying I had anything to do with this.” He lets his roll go and it sails through the air in a perfect arc around one of the highest branches and then comes down the other side as my laughter echoes into the night.
Zeke
It takes her three tries to get the toilet paper around the tree. Her aim and power are god awful, but the giggle and smile that accompany her efforts make a perfect beeline to the left side of my chest.
She’s reckless and naïve. So desperate to make a mark on the world she doesn’t realize she already has. Everybody likes her. The guys think she’s hot, of course, but it’s nothing as shallow as her looks – it’s just her.
Gabby squeals and then covers her mouth to keep quiet.
“You’re going to draw attention to us,” I whisper.
I’m not really afraid of getting caught. The baseball guys aren’t going to stumble on us unless someone makes a beer run and every house on this street is occupied by college kids. Still, I play along because that’s what Gabby is really after with this prank. She wants to feel the adrenaline and rush of doing something sneaky and wrong. The girl couldn’t be on the other side of right. I don’t think it’s in her to be anything but pure and good.
“One more good throw. Aim high.”
Focused, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and cranks her arm back. When she lets it go, the toilet paper meets its mark and the last of the roll unravels.
Lifting her arms in victory, the shift in weight momentarily causes me to lose my grip and we both overcorrect at the same time. Her body slides down until we’re chest to chest. Hers rises and falls, eyes gleaming in the moonlight with mischief and excitement. I’m frozen, body tensed and heart battering in my chest like I finished a workout.
“Now what?” she rasps.
Her words bring me back to reality and I set her on the ground. We step back and eye our handiwork.
“We go back inside and pretend to be shocked when someone notices.”
The guys barely glance in our direction as we rejoin them. They’re deep in sports talk, which might normally interest me, but the grin that Gabby can’t keep off her face keeps pulling me to look at her. She’s chomping at the bit for them to find out.
I lean over and whisper, “Want me to make an excuse to leave and come back so I can stumble upon our handiwork all surprised-like?”
Her eyes get big with possibility and I’m wondering when exactly I went from keeping an eye out for her to being a co-conspirator, when Stephens – the catcher for the baseball team – waddles out onto the patio, pants down to his ankles, holding a towel around his waist.
“What the—” Shaw asks, seeing him before the rest of the guys.
Stephen’s eyes are wide with panic and mistrust. “Dude. Who the fuck took all the toilet paper?”