The Dugout(38)

Just like Milly. She’s different. Really fucking different than any other girl I’ve met, and I’m wishing right now I was in the cages with her, hitting balls, even though my muscles are screaming and begging for a break. I considered texting her, asking her if she wanted to meet in the dugout at field six.

“Just tired,” I answer Jason just as Chandler says something funny, making the live studio audience laugh.

“I’ve seen you tired.” He picks up Romeo’s bat off the coffee table and pokes me with it. “This isn’t tired.”

“I am tired,” I say, not even convincing myself.

“Yeah, okay. Does this happen to be about a girl maybe?”

“No . . .” I drag out, as a neon pink sign pops over my head flashing the word “liar.”

“It’s pathetic how bad you are at lying. Who’s the girl?” A smile crosses his face. “Is it that Milly chick you’ve been hanging out with a lot lately?”

“We haven’t been hanging out, we’ve been practicing.”

“But you want to hang out with her.” He wiggles his eyebrows and pokes me with the bat again, this time, really starting to annoy me. “Don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Ross barges into Monica and Rachel’s apartment, wearing nothing but a pair of paste pants, a button-up shirt, and holding a wadded-up bundle of leather pants. Poor, poor Ross. At least I’m not at his level . . . at least not yet.

“So, what’s holding you up, just ask her out.”

“It’s not that easy.” I sigh and turn to face him. We’re both shirtless, in mesh shorts, and hair a damn mess from showers and not doing anything to it afterward. “I’m not sure she even sees me being in her life in that way.”

“Please,” Jason scoffs. “Not to sound conceited, but I’m pretty sure any girl would want to go out with us.”

“That is conceited. And even if any girl wants to go out with us, I don’t want that kind of attention because they’d be in it for the wrong reasons.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right about that. Hopkins got that girl pregnant his junior year and is now paying child support with his big-league money. To a girl he doesn’t even know.”

“Yeah, dumb move.” I pick up a ball and start tossing it in the air.

“Milly isn’t that kind of girl.”

“Doesn’t seem like it. She seems laid-back. Cool. No drama.”

He couldn’t be more right. The most I’ve ever seen her become slightly emotional was when she was delivering my glove and even at that, she was just genuinely upset. I still can’t get the image of her tears filling her pretty eyes out of my head. Haunts me. I hated seeing her that upset.

“Nah, she’s cool. I honestly can’t think of one thing I don’t like about her. She’s different from any girl I’ve met. She’s not into the girly crap and doesn’t care what her hair looks like on any given day. She’s real, she’s smart as fuck, and she’s funny.”

“Okay . . . so why is it so difficult to ask her out again?”

“Because.” I lean back on the couch, stare at the ceiling and toss the baseball above me. “She acts like a friend, one of the guys, rather than someone who’d be interested in dating me.”

“Yeah, well, you never know until you try.”

“And what if she says no? That won’t be awkward while she’s watching me swing a damn bat.”

“Then I guess you have a decision to make. What’s more important? Her knowledge or her soul?”

“Her soul?” I lift a brow and glance at Jason. “That’s deep.”

He taps his temple and says, “Not just a pretty face. I have some depth to me.”

Later that night, when I’m lying in bed, trying to figure out what I want to do, I pick up my phone and consider sending her a text.

Ten o’clock. She’s still got to be up, as we’re young and in college. I bite my bottom lip, contemplating my options.

I want to talk to her. I’d prefer to hear her voice, maybe even FaceTime, but I know we’re not at that level, at least she’s not. I’m rearing and ready to go, to put this relationship into a full-on sprint. I want to get to know her more. I want to get to know the girl beyond baseball. I want to know her favorite movies, what makes her cry, what makes her laugh. I want to know about her dating life, her first kiss. Is she still a virgin?

Before I can stop myself, my fingers start typing a text to her and I hold my breath, hoping she’s awake.





Chapter Thirteen





MILLY





“That was so embarrassing,” I say, laughing into the phone just as a beep sounds off, indicating a text message.

“Okay, I get it, I’m a dumbass,” Cory says, groaning over my persistent teasing. “I’ve been getting shit from the guys all night, and I don’t need it from my sister as well.”

I laugh into the phone and rest my head against my pillow, sinking under my covers. “I’m sorry, but you shamed the family. You let a bunt go between your legs. A bunt, Cory.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ve seen the replay at least ten times by now.”