“Class.” Faith hid a cringe. “She was asking me to help set up for the party.”
“Getting the weekend started right!” he crowed, throwing a possessive arm across her shoulders and pulling her against his side. “You’ll be ready at eight, right?”
“Yeah.” Her heart sank. “I’ll be ready.”
Chapter Three
Kyle
The ball came hurtling down in a perfect arc toward left field. Tristan yelled that he had it, but Kyle waved him off, running hard and laying himself out flat to catch it. The front of his body slammed into the grass and slid, but he cupped his mitt around the ball. “Got it!”
“Sawyer, save the diving catches for games, okay?” Coach Swanson yelled. “That goes for you, too, Murrell! That ball was Sawyer’s, and I don’t need any heroes on the practice field!”
Tristan rolled his eyes, grinning as Kyle peeled himself off the turf. “Nice grass stains.”
Kyle looked down. The front of his practice jersey was one big swipe of green. Just the way he liked it. “You know me. Not happy unless I’m filthy.”
“That’s what all the girls tell me!” Tristan called as he drifted back to his spot about sixty yards away.
Kyle pretended to brush dirt off his knees to hide his flush. “What’s your mom say?”
“Bastard!” But Tristan’s tone was cheerful. “What, you gonna marry that ball, or throw it?”
Kyle stood, noticing their pitcher was waving at him. Kyle wound back and threw it past his cutoff man at shortstop, straight into the pitcher’s waiting mitt. The shortstop tossed up his hands. “Dude, I’m right here. Stop throwing past me!”
“Batting practice!” Coach shouted, and the assistants herded them all to the dugout. “Sawyer, you first, since you seem to have some pent-up energy.”
Tristan opened his mouth to make some other smart-ass remark, but Kyle grabbed his bat and headed to the batter’s box before he could say anything. Sure, he had a rep to protect, but it got old, listening to all of them talk about his “love life” as if it were a legend in the making. It made his insides squirm, knowing how hard they’d laugh if they knew it was just that: an urban legend.
He swung his bat a few times, then stood ready, waiting for the pitch. A slider, a little high. Kyle let it go by. “Ball!”
“Oh, shut up, Sawyer.”
When the pitcher wound up again, Kyle knew it would be a fastball, probably low, but not too low to swing at. The ball came flying toward him, and Kyle swung with full power.
Crack! God, how he loved that sound. The ball sailed over the pitcher’s head, and it had good distance. It flew over the fence, and the guys on the bench groaned.
“Home run,” Coach said. “Dennings, throw him a changeup. That fastball was a grapefruit, kid.”
Kyle stepped back into the batter’s box, waggling the bat a bit. Knowing it was a changeup didn’t help. He had to see it, understand the trajectory, before he could decide to swing.
The guy wound up, then threw. Kyle saw it go wide and turned his body. The ball smacked into his hip, sending a bolt of numbness down his leg.
“Sorry,” Dennings said. The sheepish expression on his face was more than enough to let Kyle know it wasn’t on purpose.
Coach let Kyle take a seat after that, sending a sacrificial freshman up for a turn. Tristan turned to him as soon as he sat down. “You going to Vi’s party tonight?”
Kyle shook his head. “Other plans, man.”
“Please tell me it involves a couple of college girls and a pillow fight.”
“I don’t talk.” He raised an eyebrow at Tristan. “I like to give you guys something to wonder about.”
“Must be something good.” Tristan heaved a sigh. “Wish I could come with.”
Kyle snorted. His date was with a lawn mower. He doubted Tristan would find that exciting. “Sorry…this is a one-man job.”
And, for as long as he could keep the con running, that’s all it would ever be.
The sound of a lawn mower wasn’t a song of boring chores. No, it was his future. Kyle smiled as Avenged Sevenfold blared through his earbuds, barely drowning out the Toro’s motor. He loved spring…and he loved the work that came with it. He might not get the periodic table, but he could turn someone’s lawn into a green carpet of awesome.