Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(5)
She immediately halts, her shoulders stiff as she turns to glare at me. Out of all the things I expected to see on her face, annoyance wasn’t one of them, and I can’t help but smile as she says, “It was a really good book.”
“Apparently not good enough to keep you awake.” Why do I want to know what (or more like who) keeps her awake at night? Annnnnd why the hell am I effortlessly picturing one of the many ways I’d keep her up all night? Preferably under me, in a darkened bedroom, her eyes on mine, and her attention definitely not on a damn book.
“That’s because I finished it.”
“Glad you got your happy ending.” As soon as it spills out of my mouth, a film reel flips through my mind of all the different ways she could finish, but from the look of hatred she’s giving me, I doubt we’re picturing the same happy ending.
“Ditto. Great game. Welcome to Canaan Falls and all that shit.” She waves her hand around, dismissing me before turning to make her getaway.
“This is my hometown. I grew up here. How about you, Avery?” I want to know something about her, anything other than she loathes the very thing my life revolves around.
She gives me a wary look before glancing back to her friend, but he’s still paying her no mind. “Yes. I grew up in Canaan Falls.” She starts walking, calling over her shoulder. “I really have to go.”
With that, she hurries over to her buddy, pulling at his arm. I have no idea what she’s saying, but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that she’s bitching him out. And it’s also clear I’m part of the problem when the dude’s eyes dart to me. He’s a good sport though and obviously used to being on the receiving end of her irritation since he gives me a happy wave to which she responds by pulling down his arm and lightly slapping his chest. The guy chuckles before she pivots and heads up the stairs leading out of the stadium.
Damn. Avery might not want anything to do with me or the sport I love, but she’s definitely piqued my interest. And that hasn’t happened with anyone or anything other than baseball, ever.
5
AVERY
“Peace offering.” Bodie holds up the paper coffee cup as he bows his head down.
“Not forgiven,” I say while carefully taking the paper cup from his hands, “but there’s no point in letting a good cup of coffee go to waste.”
His smile tells me he knows he’s already exonerated, but that won’t stop me from giving him a hard time, which was exactly what I’d done during our shopping trip yesterday.
“Come on. You know it wasn’t all that bad. We got to meet Carter Barlowe. What more can you ask for?”
“A best friend who doesn’t drag me to baseball games.” Yes, meeting the baseball star had been … interesting. But being woken up by him while sleeping at the stadium wasn’t exactly ideal. Especially since I ran off because his stupidly enticing eyes left me a blabbering mess.
“Eh, could be worse.” He lifts his identical paper cup, drinking down a swallow. “Ready to go?”
“Yep.” I grab my phone and follow him out the door. We head to my parents’ house for our standing Sunday lunch. Bodie’s attendance is expected as much as mine or my siblings’, but he hasn’t made it too often lately.
Once we arrive at my parents’, we make our way into the house. Upon pushing the door open, the smell of Mom’s home cooking fills the air, making my mouth water.
“Anyone home?” Bodie calls out.
My younger sister, Presley, greets Bodie before she even looks at me. It’s been more than obvious that she’s had a thing for Bodie for, like, ever. But we learned the hard way that we didn’t want the drama of dating a best friend’s sibling after my relationship with Bodie’s older brother crashed and burned in high school, resulting in Bodie and I fighting with each other more than anything.
Ignoring my sister, I breeze into the kitchen, moving into Mom’s warm embrace as she tells me Dad will be home from the store in a few minutes. The feed store is closed on Sundays, but it never stops Dad from going in to wrap up things he wanted to get done during the week. If anyone asked me, I personally think it’s always been his solace. With four kids running around for two decades and now a rambunctious grandkid added to the mix, I didn’t blame him one bit. Though Mom thrives in the chaos, I get why Dad needs a little while to himself just to clear his mind and recharge for the week. Because as much as I’ve adapted to dealing with general bedlam, I truly recharge when it’s finally silent and serene. I’m unnecessarily reminded that neither of those things will be happening at this house anytime soon when my nephew runs through the kitchen, yelling and charging straight for me.
“What’re we running from?” I ask, scooping him up in my arms to wrap him in a secure hug.
“Him!” Finn shouts as I spot my brother rushing in our direction, a Nerf gun aimed our way.
“Seriously, Rhett?” I ask, turning Finn out of the line of fire. “Do you really have nothing better to do other than torment children?”
“Nope.” It doesn’t surprise me in the least as the youngest child of four smiles, firing the Nerf bullet that strikes me in the back. “Besides, he started it. I was minding my own business, taking me a good nap when this happened.” Rhett holds up his arm to show me where buttface is sloppily written in what appears to be permanent marker. And I know the guilty party as I hear Finn giggling at the sight of his artwork.