The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2) Read online

  The Perfect Game

  A Rosemont High Baseball Romance

  Britney M. Mills

  Crystal Canyon Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Love, Austen

  Also by Britney M. Mills

  Copyright © 2020 by Britney M Mills

  Cover design by Bree Livingston

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To the 2020 Seniors

  Your year was cut short, you weren’t able to play, but you are strong and resilient. Keep moving forward and look for the good. You made it through this, you’ll make it through just about anything.

  One

  Serena

  My eyelids lowered for the tenth time as I tried to concentrate on Mr. Kendall’s lecture. It would be easy to say this was the first time I’d been ready for a nap while listening to his monotone voice, but that would be a lie. He could make the most exciting story sound like it was just another day at the park.

  The scent of garbage sent my gag reflex into motion, and my eyes opened to find a sneaker held in front of my nose. I swatted it away, doing my best to keep from throwing up. Once I was under control, I turned to the kid next to me, Colt Buttars. What a jerk.

  “Are you serious right now? Those are disgusting,” I whispered as harshly as I could, sneaking a glance toward the front to see if Mr. Kendall noticed. Nope, still focused on his notes.

  Even with the shoe away from my face, it was as if the stench had formed its own cloud and was stuck there. I leaned away from Colt and did my best to wave away the air in front of me. It was all I could do to control my breathing as I kept my bagel down. Why were guys so gross?

  It didn’t help that I had one of the most sensitive noses known to man. Well, that was an exaggeration. More sensitive than anyone I’d ever met.

  “Do you have something to add to the discussion, Miss Gates?” Mr. Kendall asked from the front of the room.

  I frowned, not sure what he meant, until I looked at my waving hand.

  Shaking my head, I said, “No. Just trying to get some air in here.” I shot Colt a look, grinding my teeth together. He was so immature. Just like James.

  I rolled my eyes and sank down in the chair of my desk, swallowing to get rid of the ball that had formed in my throat at the thought of another jerk in my life. As much as I wanted to think I was different from every other girl at Rosemont High, or at least in the sophomore class, I’d been duped by a boy. I’d had a crush on James, a senior basketball player, since day one of the school year, and when he finally paid attention to me a few weeks back, I’d become the giggling, swooning teenage girl I’d always made fun of.

  When I found him making out with another girl at a party a week after we’d started talking and hanging out, I was the typical girl in a romantic comedy, eating pints of ice cream and forgetting what day it was as I cried my eyes out. But that Serena Gates was now behind me. I’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future. It had already made things so much easier.

  If only that resolution had been able to raise my grades that fast.

  I stared out the window, wishing I was in the pool in our backyard instead of trying to stay awake from the boredom. If my ability to play volleyball in the fall wasn’t directly affected by my current less-than-stellar grades, I probably would have skipped today to do just that.

  “What do you think was the purpose of the play, Our Town?” Mr. Kendall asked, strolling back and forth in front of the class. He was a younger teacher, and he was cool for the most part, but I could definitely see the nerdy side of him every once in a while. Like now, with this lame stage play.

  Lisa, the girl who answered just about every question in class, raised her hand. I flicked my gaze to the clock on the wall to my left, groaning when I saw it had only been five minutes since the last time I looked. The girl’s voice filtered through the room, and only a few words made it to my brain before I tuned her out.

  I pulled out my phone, holding it under the desk with my left hand. My right hand held a pen and hovered over a notebook in the hopes that it would look like I was taking notes. Penny, one of my best friends and the star softball pitcher, would probably laugh at the whole scene. I’d never seen anyone with notes as meticulous as hers. I just had to make sure she never saw my report card or she’d probably disown me as a friend.

  I scrolled through my social media accounts, trying not to focus on how I would probably grow old and die right there with how slow this class was going today. My ears finally picked up a topic I actually needed, and I put my phone away, focusing on what Mr. Kendall had to say.

  “As a way to earn some last-minute extra-credit points for my class, you can attend Our Town at the Hayes Theater this weekend. If you write a five-page paper at the end of it, you’ll earn fifty points toward your final grade.”

  My mouth dropped open, and the first surge of excitement I’d felt all day sent tingles through my upper body. Mr. Kendall never gave out extra credit, but fifty points could go a long way toward helping my D+ turn into a passing grade. I needed to remember the relief of an extra-credit opportunity at this time next year. Maybe starting out the semester with better habits wouldn’t have me scrambling to make grades.

  “How was your little nap there, Gates?” Colt asked, walking next to me as we left the room.

  “If I ever have to smell an article of your clothing again, I’ll beat you.” I tried to keep a fierce expression, but I couldn’t help but smile as he looked like he didn’t believe me. I’d known him since elementary school, being in the same grade, and the kid was the most annoying person I’d ever met, but when it came to sports, he was pretty chill. Penny had said something about him beating out a senior for the starting spot as third baseman, so he must be pretty good at baseball.

  “I’d like to see that,” said a familiar voice behind me in the hall.

  I turned to find Jake, Penny’s boyfriend, passing with a couple of the other baseball players trailing him. Colt moved into their group like a duck to his family, and I shook my head. Boys.

  One of the guys at the back of the group stared at me as the group walked down the hall, his head turning back until they’d moved around the corner. I only knew him as Ben the Pitcher, which is how Penny distinguished all the guys for us non-baseball fans. He was cute, but I’d never really talked to him before. And now was not the time to start liking other boys.

  Shak
ing my head, I headed in the direction of my locker.

  “How was English today, Serena?” Brynn asked, pulling a book out of her locker as I stopped by mine a few doors down. I looked at the book I recognized as being for one of the advanced placement classes and groaned. The two of us were only sophomores, but Brynn took school as seriously as Penny, which made it hard to fully complain about what I was going through in my regular classes.

  I shrugged. “It was all right. I’ve got to go see a play to get some extra credit. Are you free on Friday?”

  Brynn frowned. “I wish. My parents want to go camping this weekend. Not exactly the thing I want to do with how hot it’s supposed to be outside. Maybe Penny or Kate?”

  “I doubt Penny will be free. Ever since prom, she’s attached to Jake at the hip. But I’ll see what Kate’s doing.” It hadn’t hit me until now but I did not want to go to this play by myself, bonus points or not.

  We walked down the hall, meeting Penny and Kate in our spot near the doors. “Should we head out for lunch?” Kate asked.

  “No Jake today?” I asked Penny, surprised to see her without her other half. It was a relief to not see them kissing and holding hands. I never thought Penny would be that kind of girl, all giggly around a boy, but I’d been wrong. Thinking about my own situation, even I hadn’t lived up to avoiding swooning over an attractive senior. Ever since she and Jake had figured things out at the dance, it seemed like they couldn’t stop holding hands or kissing. It was all innocent, but still. Gross.

  Penny shook her head. “No, he had to stay and get some help in math. He’s hoping to bump his grade up before the final next week.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I muttered, again annoyed about my current grades. A wave of panic took over, and I wondered what life would be like on the bench next year if I couldn’t pass all my classes. In English there was hope, if I could get someone to attend the play with me. Math was my best subject, so I didn’t worry about that. But art, I was hopeless when it came to anything but stick figures. If Mr. Kendall was giving extra credit, would Ms. Tibbs?

  With only three weeks of school before summer break, I’d need every day left to paint or draw something remotely decent to raise my grade. Was summer school a possibility to make up for a semester’s worth of bad decisions on my part? Because it was almost pointless at this stage.

  A pit formed in my stomach. I opened my mouth and said, “You know what? I need to check on something for art. I’ll catch you all after school.”

  Looking at my friends, you would have thought I’d just yelled, Bomb!

  “Well, uh, good luck,” Kate said with a hesitant grin.

  “Yeah, I know how it sounds. And don’t,” I said, raising my hand in front of Penny’s parted lips, “I’m already scolding myself, so I don’t need any lectures on taking school more seriously.”

  Penny raised both hands in surrender. “Better late than on the bench, right?” She knew me too well.

  I turned and trudged up the stairs, heading in the direction of the art department. Ms. Tibbs didn’t leave her room all that often, and I hoped she would be there during lunch. What would it take to pass her class?

  I stared at the random off-white spot on the wall, the one I saw every time I walked to art, and just like before, I conjured up the scenario behind it. It looked like someone had tried to patch up the sheetrock, maybe after a fight between students. But the color had steadily changed over the past four months under my watchful eye. If only I needed help in science, I could propose some kind of experiment for it.

  The art room was the first door on the right after turning the corner. I could get there in a trance, which is what had me transfixed on that spot on the wall. Until I plowed into what felt like a large moveable wall. The impact caused me to stumble back a few steps and fall. Even with all the drills my coaches had put me through in the past few years, I didn’t go down with grace.

  “Are you all right?” a deep baritone voice asked.

  I had to tilt my head back to see the tall blond figure before me. Crystal-clear blue eyes searched my face, making my thoughts go fuzzy as my gaze flicked down to his lips. Focusing on the whole face, I realized I’d just seen him with Jake after class.

  Ben the Pitcher.

  I pushed off the floor, tugging my shirt back down. “Yep, I’m good.” My usual sarcastic nature seemed to be off-kilter from the fall. I looked up again, unsure of what to say. I’d never talked to him before, and it seemed those eyes had some sort of power to throw off my whole attitude. Something about him made goosebumps pop up all over my arms.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, reaching his hand out but stopping a few inches away from my arm, hesitating.

  I raised a hand and forced a smile. “Really. I should have watched where I was going anyway. Good luck on your upcoming games, and I’ll, uh, see you around.” What was my deal? Why was I so flustered around him?

  Ben looked as though he wanted to say something else but nodded and walked down the hall. Once he was out of eyesight, I realized my breathing had increased as though I’d just run sprints or something. Weird.

  My stomach growled, and I spun back to the door of the classroom, remembering why I’d opted to skip lunch. Once in the art room, I glanced around. It took several seconds to spot the teacher crouched behind the pottery wheel. As I stepped closer, I saw her with a screwdriver, turning something on the machine.

  “Something broken, Ms. Tibbs?” I asked, enjoying the moment as she jumped back in surprise.

  When she relaxed, she said, “Yeah, I’m trying to figure out why it’s making strange sounds. But I might need to ask the auto department. I have no experience with fixing machinery.” She stood, wiping her hands on her paint-stained pants. Adjusting her glasses, she focused on me. “What is it you need, Serena?”

  “I, uh, well, I couldn’t remember what you’d said we could do for extra credit.”

  A close-lipped smile did nothing to make me feel better about the practical begging I was doing. “Yes, your grade is on the border of failing.”

  Nothing like putting things bluntly.

  “I know, and that’s why I’m here. What can I do to boost it?” I forced out a smile, hoping she’d get the hint that I needed this more than I cared to admit.

  “I’m assuming you have to make up points in English as well?” Ms. Tibbs shuffled a few papers back and forth on her desk.

  “I might.” I frowned, confused as to how this connected to my bad grade in English.

  She nodded. “Good. Since we know your skills in drawing are somewhat lacking, I’ll give you another assignment. There is a small art gallery on the first level of the Hayes Theater. I want you to walk through it before whatever performance you’re going to. Pick one painting that inspires you and write a paper about the style of the art, why you like it, and what you think the artist’s reason for creating it was.”

  Another paper? “Are you sure you don’t want me to sketch something or paint a still-life or anything?” Why was I trying to negotiate my non-existent art talents? As I thought about the essay, it was probably because I wasn’t good at expressing myself on paper either. That’s why I loved equations so much. The answer wasn’t subjective to what other people thought.

  Ms. Tibbs threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, Serena, but I don’t think you’d actually earn points from those things.”

  Point taken. “Okay, okay, I’ll do the paper.”

  “Good luck.”

  I turned away, wishing I didn’t have such pressure to go to this play. But if it was going to let me play volleyball, I had to make the effort. Losing the sport I loved was not an option.

  Two

  Ben

  I groaned, thinking of all the things I had to get done before I could sleep that night. I’d made it through the first part of the day and was heading to lunch after retrieving the notebook I’d left during second period, when I bumped into Serena Gates. It was the second time I’d seen her in a matt
er of minutes, and as much as I wanted to say something more interesting than “Are you okay?”—I got tongue-tied and my brain just sort of stopped, hesitating before helping her up.

  It hadn’t helped that her dark-brown hair hung over her shoulders as her blue eyes pulled me in. I’d seen her from afar ever since Jake and Penny had started hanging out, but my attraction for her had grown over the past few weeks.

  I could have at least tried to come up with something cool to say, but instead, I freaked out and walked away. What would Jake or Dax say in that situation? It seemed like they always knew exactly what to say to girls, while I tended to clam up and feel like an awkward tower, especially with girls much shorter than me. She didn’t even reach my shoulder.

  But the more I learned about her, the more I knew I didn’t stand a chance. She was one of those girls who went out with a lot of guys but the relationships never lasted. I’d never had a girlfriend before, but I was pretty sure if I ever got dumped, I’d be a wreck. That sort of rejection was as bad as getting a home run hit off my slider, my usual best pitch, to lose the championship game.

  Mr. Kendall droned on, and my hand twitched. I was anxious to get to practice so I could get my slider on point for the game the next day. I hadn’t been able to get it to work for the last three days, even though I’d put in an extra hour of practice each day, throwing to a net when Dax left.