Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(16)

Or at least I have to tell myself that. I need to accept how desperate I am for her to give me a chance. It’s insane. I’ve never felt anything close to this before. And that’s when I finally realize why I want her to give me a chance.

Because she doesn’t like baseball. She doesn’t like sports.

She met me and wanted nothing to do with Carter Barlowe.

So, if she likes me, it’ll be for me. Not my fame, not my star status, not my father’s legacy. Nothing but the man I am. And for the first time in my life, I’m wondering if I like the man I am without all of those things. I wonder if he’s a decent soul, capable of being a whole person. I wonder if Ms. Avery Whitlock, history teacher, didn’t just make me question my own history.





11





AVERY





“I can’t believe you’ve left him hanging for a week.” Bodie drops his head back on the sofa, rubbing his face. “Avery, he gave you his number a week ago, and you still haven’t used it?”

“No, and I don’t plan to. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea.” But I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to text him a few times.

The camera zooms in on his face as he removes his hat, glances into it before replacing it snug on his head, then delivers the pitch. Bodie claps after Carter strikes out another batter. It’s his third game pitching (ugh—yes, I’ve been keeping track) and from the looks of it, and the cheers of my best friend, Carter isn’t disappointing. I’m less disappointed to watch this game than I care to admit, as well.

“You really need to start watching the games at your place. Or with your brothers. They enjoy all of this stuff.” I wave my hand at the screen as the camera stays on Carter, tracking him as he makes his way off the field, down the dugout stairs, to the end of the bench before plopping down. He gets a few fist bumps, but mostly his teammates leave him alone.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Bodie snickers.

Grabbing the stack of ungraded pop quizzes off the coffee table, I attempt to focus on them, but my attention keeps getting pulled to the game. The Coyotes capture another win, and the broadcasters talk about Carter for a few seconds before they go to a reporter who’s standing with him on the field. I don’t even try to pretend I’m not enraptured by that face that has distracted me all week.

“Three down and still on fire,” the reporter praises him, running down some stats that mean nothing to me because it’s like a foreign language, before asking a few generic questions. He comes across as open and friendly though not chatty; he answers the questions succinctly without seeming like he’s brushing her off at all. He’s both self-possessed and humble. Aw, hell—I catch myself smiling along with him on the other side of the camera.

I will not swoon.

Then I inwardly cringe and can only imagine what it does to Carter as the reporter asks, “Your dad must be so proud of you. What’s he had to say about the season you’re having with his team?”

I see it for a split second, the agony in his eyes flashes there and gone before he delivers what I’m sure is a variation of a practiced response. “Oh, yes. So far, the season is going great, but we both know it’s a team effort. We both do our best every time we step onto the field. I just want to be the best at my job for those guys.”

“Maybe he can introduce us to Cash. That’d be awesome,” Bodie suggests.

Yeah. No. Not so much. Even as big of a fan as Bodie is, he doesn’t know the truth about Cash, and Carter hides it well. He’d confided in me—which makes me unreasonably happy. Why does that make me feel so good?

The reporter circles back to the subject. Get a clue, lady! He answered your question. “Are there any plans for your dad to attend a game? Support his club and son in person?”

“Not sure just yet. He’s a busy man.” Carter shifts on his heels, his arm flexing as he moves slightly back from the reporter, who takes the wrap-up hint. His body language was subtle but effective. The man does have full command of his body, that’s for sure.

All I want to do is hide away, but Carter doesn’t have that luxury—he has to endure these questions day after day, covering his true feeling about Cash. Which makes me wonder why he doesn’t just tell the truth, or the very least, refuse to answer questions regarding that part of his life. Is that even an option?

“I should get going. I’m busy the next few days, but please reassure your mom I will make it for Sunday lunch.”

“Will do.”

“If you get bored, you can come hang out at my place. We’re going to do a live podcast for Friday’s game.”

“I’ll pass.” Mainly because of the other podcast-mates.

“Since you’re not going to use Carter’s number, can you kindly hand it over?”

“No! I’m not giving you his phone number so you and your brothers can harass him.”

“We wouldn’t harass him … just ask a few questions or chat a bit. Maybe,” Bodie says as I shake my head. He concedes, walks to the door, and throws it open as I step behind him, ready to shut and lock it after him. He stops abruptly, turning to me. “Do you know what I find really interesting?”

“What’s that?” He’s going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.