Page 37 of Seven Summer Weekends

“Taking advantage? She begged me.”

“Wow. I’m starting to hate you too. She begged you to have sex with her?”

“What? I didn’t have sex with her.”

Kizzy looked skeptical.

“I just signed her hip—well, not really her hip—more like her stomach.”

Kizzy laughed.

“You believe me, right?”

“Yes, I believe you. But I’m not sure it’s good practice to go around branding women’s hips.”

“It was above her hip! But to be honest, I kind of regretted it the morning after.”

The blonde approached, flipped her locks, and said, “I’ll play—but you may have to teach me.”

Ben gave in to said blonde, making her laugh as he showed her the proper form. When Addison returned from the restroom, she couldn’t stop her eyes from gravitating to the two of them, wondering if the name of the shot, Sex on the Beach, was foreshadowing for their night’s adventure. She wanted to grab the woman and warn her, though there was probably no point. She was likely hoping for a page 137 kind of night. Heat rose to Addison’s face. Why did she care what this guy did? Her friends were right about her MO. Gicky was right about her being unanchored. She had to get her shit together, figure out what she wanted from life. She knew one thing for sure—she didn’t want the equivalent of leaving her house to some niece she barely knew. She ordered another drink to numb her thoughts.

As Addison and her crew were leaving the bar, pathetically earlier than Shep, who was near fifty years their senior, the old man grabbed Addison’s arm.

“Over-under game tomorrow?”

“What’s that?”

“Old tradition, very fun. Big barbecue at my place afterward. Bring your friends. They won’t play—but they can watch.”

“I’ll be there,” she said, meaning it. Itwouldbe fun. She had loved being on the field and playing ball. It made her feel confident, strong, and like a kid again. There were so many things about Fire Island that brought about that feeling. The bike riding, the lack of a dress code, and, mostly, the being blissfully unaware thing. Though embracing that mantra seemed likeinviting a big reckoning, if, when September rolled around, Addison was still jobless.Unemployment is not conducive to carefreeness. Or is it?

On the way home, Kizzy filled them all in on her enlightening conversation with Ben regarding the newly tattooed houseguest. And though she told Kizzy she didn’t believe it, Addison felt a wave of relief, the magnitude of which she found alarming. She knew she was treading that thin line between love and hate, like a fickle teenager. She needed to stop wasting her time thinking about this emotionally unavailable guy. Wasting time was something she no longer felt comfortable doing.

Still, Addison fell asleep that night thinking of Ben. Not Ben at the bar playing darts with that blonde woman, but the other Ben. The one who helped her with her bags on the boat and talked her through her little breakdown on the sidewalk. She tried to push that Ben out of her mind, but the thoughts were too pleasant to dismiss.

She woke with a start to the distinct sound of a “truck” rumbling down her block. Garbage day! While her bungee cord game had definitely improved, she had taken to putting out the trash in the morning as an extra precaution. As she wheeled out the cans, she could see Ben at the top of the beach stairs talking to a blonde woman—seemingly last night’s blonde woman.

And she hated him all over again. Though this time, she wasn’t sure why.

She picked up her pace, but not enough to avoid him.

“You playing today?” Ben called out from the sidewalk as he passed. He said it in a benign way, which made it impossible to tell whether he wanted her to or not.

“Maybe,” she said, matching his tone and clapping her handsfor Sally to come to her. Ben grabbed Sally’s collar and guided her toward his own house.

“Tramp,” Addison mumbled under her breath at her bewildering neighbor, before retreating into the house. An hour later, she was on the field stretching her quads. Her three hungover friends were in the bleachers nursing iced coffees.

The annual Over/Under game was created to honor two local heroes and legendary Bay Harbor ballplayers who were killed on 9/11. Now, so many years later, the Overs were mostly made up of the people who held memories of the two extraordinary men, while the Unders knew them only by their legacies. They were lined up by age, and Addison found her spot on the left side of the cutoff—an actual line drawn in the clay between third and home. Ben was the first person standing at the youngest end of the Overs. It had to have been a recent move from Under to Over for him. He looked up and down the line intensely, confirming her suspicion. They locked eyes for a moment, and she smirked knowingly. It had to bother him to be an Over. Whichever guy was in charge, Eddie, she believed, walked from one end of the line to the other, counting the players on the Unders, while Shep counted the Overs. At this point Shep played only one inning, more out of respect and nostalgia than anything else—but he was definitely the unofficial captain of the Overs. Shep and Eddie met in the middle.

“I’ve got thirty-two,” Shep reported.

“Thirty-seven,” Eddie countered before moving the last three guys on his line to the Overs, leaving Addison to be the oldest Under. She breathed a sigh of relief before catching Ben’s eye again. Now it was his turn to smirk knowingly. He watched Matty, his across-the-street neighbor, a college kid who hadrecently returned from a month in Barcelona, make his way to the field. Everyone was thrilled to see him except Addison. It hadn’t even entered her mind that she could be an Over, a thought more depressing than her aging ovaries. A mixture of bro hugs and big cheers from the Unders ensued, followed by the kid taking his rightful place on the Unders team, followed by Addison being slid to the other side of the line. Ben’s smirk was now an all-out laugh.

She could think of nothing better than to stick her tongue out at him.

Shep called out the order. It was Addie third and Ben fourth. In the first inning, Addison got on base with a two out count, and Ben struck out, which pissed him off for sure. But in the last inning, everything changed.

The Overs were down by one. It was two outs when Addison got up at bat. Kizzy, Lisa, and Pru held their breath along with everyone else rooting for them. Addison hit a powerful line drive, boom, and ran the bases as fast as her long legs allowed—which was fast. She made it to second. Still two outs, Ben followed with a home run. The crowd rose to their feet as Addison rounded third and headed home, followed by Ben. When he reached home plate, Addison raised her hand for a fist bump, but Ben scooped her in his arms and spun her around instead. He was strong, and the scoop and subsequent spins made her feel, for lack of a better word, petite, possibly for the first time in her life.

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