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Authors: Keri Mikulski
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down my spine. “What does that—”
He continues massaging me. “Everything. Instead of letting it get you down, you tried out for field hockey. And then you know the rest . . .”
“Yeah, I learned that hockey sticks are much more annoying to carry around than you’d think.”
“Ha ha, well, that”—Zach laughs—“and you found out you were a way better field hockey player than you ever were a soccer player.”
I swivel around to face him. “What? Are telling me to try out for another sport? First, Martie wants me to give up pitching and now you want me to switch sports?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“No. Not at all. I’m just—”
I interrupt him. “And anyway, I was ten and that stuff wasn’t as important.”
“Well, what about when you were eight and you were so sick and tired of the tiaras and pageants? You thought it was pretty important to tell your mom you didn’t want to do the whole pageant circuit anymore.”
I pick the basketball up off the floor and begin bouncing it ever so slightly against the bench. “What does that even have to do with softball?”
“Remember, your mom accused you of quitting because she said you were frustrated that you couldn’t win?”
Now I know where he’s going with this. I hang my head.
Tenderly, he grabs the bouncing basketball from me and places it back on the ground. Then he cups my chin, gently lifting it with his hand so I’m forced to stare at him. “But you decided to prove your mom wrong, didn’t you? To show her that even though you hated pageants, you could still win. And so you did. A few times.” He grins. “I still remember the look on your mom’s face the first time they crowned you.”
I don’t know if it’s because of how much I want another crown—the one worn by the prom princess—or the mention of my mom, but the flood of tears fills my eyes once again.
“Once you put your mind to something, even if it’s something you hate, like pageants, you can do anything, Ky. Imagine if you focused all your energies on softball what you could do. Amber wouldn’t stand a chance.”
At this point, I’m sobbing so hard I’m shaking. Normally, this isn’t something anyone would do in front of an ex-boyfriend. But Zachary is so much more than a former flame. He’s seen me cry a zillion times before. Even more than Missy. He’s my best friend. Or at least he was . . .
Zachary moves his hand from my chin and wraps his big thick arms around my shoulders to steady me as I sob.
I feel myself give in and sink into his embrace. But then I stiffen.
What am I doing? I can’t do this right now.
No matter what Zachary says, he went too far last season. He just can’t be trusted.
I push him away and start to hyperventilate. “Don’t think you can just waltz in here and start hugging me and take advantage of me because I’ve had a bad day.”
Zachary grins. “Who’s trying to take advantage? I miss you.”
I try to breathe. “You miss me? Good.” I sniffle. “You’re the one who messed this up.”
“And I’ve regretted that every minute of every day since. You’re the only one who gets me. Neighbor.” He tilts his head to the side. “Think of all the time we’re wasting being mad at each other. Who knows how long you’ll be in my backyard?”
“Whatever.” I roll my tired eyes. Tired from crying and tired of Zachary’s ridiculous lines.
“I’m serious, Ky. I just can’t take it anymore. . . .” He looks up at me, then at the clock. And then he quotes “our song”: “It’s a quarter after three and I’m all alone and I need you now.” He grins.
Yeah, he needs me all right. Seriously? Does he think Lady Antebellum will really work on me? But he keeps singing, and before I know it, I can’t stop myself from smiling back. “You’re crazy . . .” I say, attempting to hide my uninvited grin. That’s something else Zachary could always do. Turn my tears into giggles in minutes.
“Seriously,
He continues massaging me. “Everything. Instead of letting it get you down, you tried out for field hockey. And then you know the rest . . .”
“Yeah, I learned that hockey sticks are much more annoying to carry around than you’d think.”
“Ha ha, well, that”—Zach laughs—“and you found out you were a way better field hockey player than you ever were a soccer player.”
I swivel around to face him. “What? Are telling me to try out for another sport? First, Martie wants me to give up pitching and now you want me to switch sports?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“No. Not at all. I’m just—”
I interrupt him. “And anyway, I was ten and that stuff wasn’t as important.”
“Well, what about when you were eight and you were so sick and tired of the tiaras and pageants? You thought it was pretty important to tell your mom you didn’t want to do the whole pageant circuit anymore.”
I pick the basketball up off the floor and begin bouncing it ever so slightly against the bench. “What does that even have to do with softball?”
“Remember, your mom accused you of quitting because she said you were frustrated that you couldn’t win?”
Now I know where he’s going with this. I hang my head.
Tenderly, he grabs the bouncing basketball from me and places it back on the ground. Then he cups my chin, gently lifting it with his hand so I’m forced to stare at him. “But you decided to prove your mom wrong, didn’t you? To show her that even though you hated pageants, you could still win. And so you did. A few times.” He grins. “I still remember the look on your mom’s face the first time they crowned you.”
I don’t know if it’s because of how much I want another crown—the one worn by the prom princess—or the mention of my mom, but the flood of tears fills my eyes once again.
“Once you put your mind to something, even if it’s something you hate, like pageants, you can do anything, Ky. Imagine if you focused all your energies on softball what you could do. Amber wouldn’t stand a chance.”
At this point, I’m sobbing so hard I’m shaking. Normally, this isn’t something anyone would do in front of an ex-boyfriend. But Zachary is so much more than a former flame. He’s seen me cry a zillion times before. Even more than Missy. He’s my best friend. Or at least he was . . .
Zachary moves his hand from my chin and wraps his big thick arms around my shoulders to steady me as I sob.
I feel myself give in and sink into his embrace. But then I stiffen.
What am I doing? I can’t do this right now.
No matter what Zachary says, he went too far last season. He just can’t be trusted.
I push him away and start to hyperventilate. “Don’t think you can just waltz in here and start hugging me and take advantage of me because I’ve had a bad day.”
Zachary grins. “Who’s trying to take advantage? I miss you.”
I try to breathe. “You miss me? Good.” I sniffle. “You’re the one who messed this up.”
“And I’ve regretted that every minute of every day since. You’re the only one who gets me. Neighbor.” He tilts his head to the side. “Think of all the time we’re wasting being mad at each other. Who knows how long you’ll be in my backyard?”
“Whatever.” I roll my tired eyes. Tired from crying and tired of Zachary’s ridiculous lines.
“I’m serious, Ky. I just can’t take it anymore. . . .” He looks up at me, then at the clock. And then he quotes “our song”: “It’s a quarter after three and I’m all alone and I need you now.” He grins.
Yeah, he needs me all right. Seriously? Does he think Lady Antebellum will really work on me? But he keeps singing, and before I know it, I can’t stop myself from smiling back. “You’re crazy . . .” I say, attempting to hide my uninvited grin. That’s something else Zachary could always do. Turn my tears into giggles in minutes.
“Seriously,
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