Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (28 page)

           
Sighing, I confess,
“Yes, Buzz,
I am. But you don
’
t have to-”

             “Sky, stop,” she demands.

             “
I promise it
’
s
not what you think,” I try again, but she isn
’
t listening.

             “Sky, I
’
m not having sex with
you,” she blurts out. Then she adds in the softest whisper, “Even though I kind
of want to,” and buries her face in her hands as she leans down to rest on her
legs.

            Holy. Fucking. Shit.

            Our conversation replays in my mind, and I slam on
the breaks as the stoplight turns red. I throw my right arm out across her
chest to keep Buzz from slamming her head onto the dashboard. My heart is
racing like a jackhammer after hearing the word sex come out of her virgin
mouth. I
’
m a virgin, too, but it
’
s
the first time I
’
ve ever fucking heard her say it, and it
’
s in regards to doing it with me. I roll my window down to
breathe fresh air, but it doesn
’
t matter; all the air has
been sucked out of my lungs. My throat is dry and scratchy.

             “B, that
’
s not what this is… at
all,” I explain. As I sigh deeply, I hang my head down to touch the top of the
steering wheel while I wait for the light to change.

             “Oh,” Buzz quietly acknowledges that she
’
s heard me. Great, now she fucking feels stupid. Tiffany is
going to kill me for this.

            After five of the most awkward minutes of my entire
life, I finally pull into the hotel parking lot and sit there beating myself up
for fucking making her think I
’
m about to deflower her as
her birthday present.

             “
Buzz, I
’
m
so fucking sorry,” I plead, still unable to look at her.

             “It
’
s fine,
”
she replies, but I can feel the earthquake on her tongue.

             “No, it
’
s not,”
I
argue.
“You have to know I would never do that to you.”

             “Ouch,” she scowls. “Thanks for the great birthday
present. Which room is everybody in?” And the surprise is ruined. In other
news, I
’
m a fucking asshole.

             “Wait, please,” I call after her as she opens her
door. “That
’
s not what I meant, B.”

             “You
’
re really confusing me,” she
admits but continues to cross the parking lot and make me catch up to her.
Join
the fucking club.

27 Bianca Ferrari

Well the start to my sweet sixteen couldn
’
t
be anymore awkward. Skyler is making my mind and heart go into panic mode,
which completely sends me into a tornado. Once he says it isn
’
t
about sex, I immediately know our friends and siblings are waiting in a room
for us to arrive. It was going to be one or the other. It isn
’
t
hard to figure out. But I
’
m also a little disappointed
that we aren
’
t going to be alone. I
’
m
not up for a big bash.

            Tiffany looks so defeated when I enter and don
’
t act surprised, but I immediately yank on her wrist to pull
her into the suite
’
s bathroom.

             “He told you, didn
’
t he?
” she asks me, but then she studies my expression further
as I wait in silence for her to figure it out. “No, wait. What the hell
happened?”

             “I panicked,” I confess, breathing heavily as I
stretch my arms over the sink so my head hangs above it. I
’
m still panicking.
Why did I think Sky was bringing me here
to have sex?

             “You panicked?” she repeats. “
I don’
t
get it.”

             “Sky… he… I thought he was taking me here for
another reason,” I explain as I feel the sweat pooling on my hairline.

             “What? Why?” she snaps back in confusion.

             “
I don’
t know. Just the way he
was talking,” I mutter, trying to collect myself. I don
’
t
want my brother or Benny to catch on to my misled apprehension and beat Skyler
for it. I should
’
ve known Skyler doesn
’
t
want to have a romantic relationship with me.

             “Is tonight going to be super weird now? I mean, you
could always fake sick,” she suggests.
I wouldn’t even have to fake it.

             “No. It
’
ll be fine. I
appreciate you guys trying. I just ruin everything,” I sulk.

             “Stop pouting. Nothing is ruined,” Tiffany tells me.
“Here. Put this on,” she says, holding a little shimmery dress on a hanger. It
’
s similar to what she
’
s wearing but gold;
they both look like formal dresses.

             “What is this?” I question, trying to hold my
disgust inside. I appreciate the thought, but I
’
m not a
dressy girl.

             “I wanted you to feel special on your birthday.
Dresses always help,” she chipperly smiles at me. I can
’
t
disagree with her more, but I humor her and put it on.

            The rest of the night consists of eating pizza and
playing stupid games like charades and Taboo that require teams or partners,
which seems to be a pattern with our group. Everyone pairs off for Taboo, but I
take a step back so I
’
m not in the center of the room. Ha,
I’m trying to go unnoticed at my own birthday party. Any other day Skyler and I
as a team would be the obvious choice, which is exactly what everyone else
thinks, but the tension in the room is as cold as Antarctica. I want to
apologize to Skyler for jumping to conclusions. He
’
s
across the room standing in the corner silently like a penguin that found a
warm spot and doesn
’
t want to be social anymore if it
means he has to be cold again. I feel the same way.

            I
’
m grateful when Tiffany and
Benny form a team for Taboo because that means we won
’
t
have to witness the weird and inappropriate chemistry of Benny and Baylee. As
soon as I breathe a sigh of relief because of this, I watch Bay take the buzzer
and lean over Benny
’
s shoulder as he sits on a chair. She
’
s going to be the referee - that
’
s no
better than being on his team. At least he isn
’
t the one
looking over her shoulder and down her shirt.

           
Fresh air - now.
I bolt out the sliding glass
door and onto the balcony to breathe, unlike I
’
m able to
do with the claustrophobic and sweaty air inside. I think that no one noticed
my departure when I still hear the buzzer going off and people laughing and
shouting. That is until I feel someone
’
s breath on the
back of my neck. Then the door closes to drown out the noise from the quaint
party.

             “
Buzz, I
’
m
sorry,” Skyler repeats himself from in his Jeep a while ago. I have never heard
the kid apologize so much; it
’
s extremely weird. I realize
I misunderstood his gesture. It isn
’
t that big of a deal.
He
’
s not that kind of guy.

             “It
’
s fine. I overreacted,” I
confess with a childish chuckle.

             “No, you didn
’
t,” he argues. “I
didn
’
t realize how it would look from your point of view.”

           
I don’
t want to turn around and
risk someone inside seeing my uneasy expression, so I just turn my head
slightly to look over my shoulder at Skyler. He has one hand hovering over my
shoulder like he wants to touch me so badly, but he’s restraining himself.

             “You know I
’
m here for you. I
’
m on your team; I
’
m always on your fucking
team. But you haven
’
t been telling me much these past few
weeks, B,” he explains his side of our recent awkwardness. It
’
s
not nearly as bad as it could be, but we also aren
’
t the
usual Sky and Buzz. I could tell he
’
s been really worried
about me, and I feel guilty.

             “I didn
’
t realize doing therapy
and school simultaneously would be so draining,” I tell him. It
’
s
the complete truth, and it
’
s exactly why I haven
’
t been talking to him more. I talk enough at school and
therapy; by the time I get home I just want to sleep or read or listen to
music, although that
’
s rare since I usually have a
headache.

             “Have you been sleeping better?” he wonders, but I
let out a knowing laugh. I spend more nights in his bed than I ever do in mine.
The nightmares still happen, but they are more spread out, thankfully. When
they do flood in, I always wake up puking. It makes me feel better to have him
there to rub my back and hold my hair and just tell me it will all be okay. His
question, however, is referring to the past two nights that I spent in my house
alone.

             “I
’
ve just been thinking a lot,
which hurts my head, so last night I got maybe three hours,” I state, leaning
into him, my symbol of a white flag. I feel him release a deep breath and
actually grab my shoulder, and the unnecessary tension is dissolved
immediately.

             “Is therapy helping? You never talk about it,” he
points out.

             “I
’
m not supposed to. It
’
s confidential,” I remind him.

             “The doctor
’
s not supposed to
talk about it. You
are
, sweetheart,” he teases, and I know he
’
s right. I just don
’
t want to burden
anyone with it; we
pay
the therapist to listen. I
think it
’
s the perfect scenario where everybody wins. That
is until the therapist starts asking me about Sky almost every session.

             “Is he feeling guilty?”
I hope not.

             “Are you in love with him?”
I don’
t
know.

             “How does he make you feel?”
Uhhh…

             “How has he acted since the accident?”
Perfect.

             “Can I ask you for a favor?” I nervously hope. I
haven
’
t even checked with my therapist for what I
’
m about to ask him, but I just need him to do it for me.

             “Sure, but no promises,” he snickers.
Liar.
I
know he
’
ll do whatever I ask of him.

             “Will you come to a session with me?” I request, and
I jump when he scurries around so he
’
s facing me and now
everyone else in the hotel room, too.

             “Why?” he questions, and I can
’
t
be offended that that
’
s his answer. Therapy is supposed to
be just something I do, but the more I talk about him to my therapist, the more
she and I both sense his suppressed guilt from the accident. I want the old Sky
back that is my fearless partner in crime. We also need to face some other
issues between us, like trust. As soon as I saw Chase on the first day of
school I remembered what happened with him, Skyler, and me. Skyler needs to
know I haven’t forgotten about it.

             “Because the accident also kind of happened to you,”
I tell him.
And it might bring us closer again… it
’
s
at least worth a try.

             “Yeah, I
’
ll go. Does that count
as my birthday present for you?” he jokes. At least, he better be joking.

             “You really didn
’
t get me
anything?” I whimper.

             “I actually got you a car; it
’
s
downstairs,” he announces with his boyish smirk. It
’
s a
rare occurrence, so I try to memorize it and superglue it to my memory. For the
first time in a while he lets a pinch of happiness cross his face.

             “Very funny,” I roll my eyes a few moments later
after he totally catches me staring at him. He knows the doctors didn
’
t give their stamp of approval for me to get my license like
every other sixteen year old. I
’
ve only been of legal
driving age for two days, so it hasn
’
t really hit me yet
that the privilege is being postponed indefinitely. As long as I show symptoms
of brain trauma, there
’
s no license for this sixteen year
old.

             “What did your parents get you since they couldn
’
t get you the golden convertible they were planning on?” he
asks the biggest joke I
’
ve ever heard.
A boat and a
motorcycle!
I laugh to myself.

             “My dad is taking me to our annual September Cubs
game one day after school next week. And my mom offered to get me a haircut,” I
blurt out, frustration starting to creep into my blood. I can feel it
overtaking my whole body slowly as I recall my not so pleasant conversation
with my mom yesterday. She
’
s so evil to me, and no matter
how well I can brush it off, she
’
s still my mom and it
sucks.

             “A haircut?” Skyler repeats.

            More calmly, I clarify, “She wants me to cut my bangs…
to cover my scar.” Closing my eyes intensifies the feeling of his lips lightly
pressing against my forehead, and I lean into him to express how much I really
fucking love his kisses, especially his forehead ones. It
’
s
his way of accepting me for who I am in the world. I
’
m
flawed but still strong, and most days he
’
s the only one
who sees both. My mom only sees me as flawed, and pretty much everyone else
only sees me as strong. It means a lot that he can see all of me.

             “What do
you
want?” he firmly questions me.
To be honest, I
’
m okay with my exposed scar. Sure, I won
’
t win Miss America with it, but I
’
m not
trying to impress anyone. I
’
m just me. And the scar is
part of me now. The way Skyler minimally ping-pongs his eyes between my eyes
and forehead, I can tell that he looks at me differently since the accident. It
’
s more of a concerned look than anything romantic. So if
anything, I
’
d cut my bangs to make Skyler stop looking at
me like that but not for anyone else.

             “I want you to not feel guilty when you look at me,”
I whisper. I long for his romantic eyes. Once in a while he gives them to me
but not lately.

             “You
’
re fucking beautiful, B,” he
compliments me, quickly sneaking in for a kiss on my lips. He looks behind me
after he does it to see if anyone in the hotel room noticed, but his face tells
me we
’
re unseen. I
’
m caught slightly
off guard but really I have been waiting for it for a while. No matter how
short, kisses from Skyler are always my favorite. And this one is on my lips;
therefore, I know I
’
m not going insane thinking there
’
s still something romantic between us. Thirteen year old Bianca
is geeking out right now! “When I see your scar, it reminds me that you
’
re tough.”

             “Then… for now… I
’
m not hiding
it,”
I decide.

The next week at school Tiffany tells me that Chloe is hosting
pre-homecoming pictures for some girls in our class who don
’
t
want to go with dates. I
’
m relieved when she tells me
because I don
’
t want to be the only girl without a date,
and I know no one will ask me for real. It would just be a pity-ask if someone
does. But partway through the week I hear differently.