The Dugout(39)

“What were you thinking?”

“I have no idea. I honestly can’t remember anything about the play. Thankfully it didn’t cost us a run.”

“Just your pride. You’re going to be on the Top Ten Worst Plays on ESPN, and I bet you stay there for a while, just like the time Mark Sanchez had a butt fumble when playing for the Jets. They had to retire that worst play because it was number one for so long.”

“This won’t go that long. Maybe a few weeks, but it’s not butt-fumble material.”

I twirl a piece of hair around my finger. “You better hope so.”

“Okay, enough about me. What about you? Did you get my package?”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure you gave me enough caramel M&M’s for my entire floor.”

He chuckles. “That was the point. Tell the students to leave you alone and just chuck a package at them. What about the leggings, did you try them? Cheryl said they’re the best out there.”

“Not yet. I’m not a legging kind of girl.”

“Have you even tried them?”

“No,” I drag out.

“Then you can’t say you don’t like them. Just do me a favor and try them on at some point, okay?”

Sighing, I say, “Fine, but you don’t have to turn me into a fashionista, you know.”

He barks out a laugh. “Mills, a pair of leggings is not even cracking the mold of fashionista. I’m just trying to get you to wear something a little more modern. You have great legs, show them off.”

“That’s a really weird compliment coming from my brother.”

There’s a thump against my wall and then some laughing. I’m almost positive the girls next door are drunk and have been drinking in their dorm since seven, but I don’t have it in me to go bust them. I’m far too comfortable in my bed.

“Someone has to hand you a compliment, which reminds me . . . how are things with Stone?”

My body heats up from the mere mention of Carson’s last name, or even the thought of him. When he text me the other night, after his road trip, I seriously thought something was wrong, but when he handed me a package of M&M’s, I don’t think I’ve been more confused in my life. That was until he wanted to sit down and talk.

It was new, different, and made me feel . . . weird.

I know, not the best reaction, but it’s truly how I felt. I didn’t know what to do with my limbs, how to act, how to answer questions. A wave of heat erupted over my skin and with every move I made, I felt self-conscious. I was awkward and I know I was short with my answers, but honestly, I had no idea what he was doing at my dorm at night.

There was a brief moment where I thought, maybe, just maybe, he was feeling something for me other than our friendship, but that was completely squashed when he gave me a playful shove and called me Coach. Honestly, who am I kidding? There is no way in hell Carson Stone will ever have romantic feelings for me.

Ever.

“He’s doing awesome. Had a great weekend out on the field. We have a session tomorrow and I plan on working—”

“I’m not talking about his hitting. I’m talking about things between you two. Has he made a move?”

A loud and very wet snort shoots right out of me. I wipe at my nose, thankful I’m alone. “Oh my God, no. What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with him? You’re telling me he hasn’t made a move on my beautiful sister yet?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. You’ve lost your damn mind. By no means am I anywhere near Carson’s type.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Uh, no? When would that even come up?” In a nervous voice, I say, “Oh hey, Carson, I was wondering, am I your type?” I laugh. “Yeah, I would never ask that, not that I’m interested in him.”

“Please. You light up whenever you talk about him.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that my brother knows me so well, but I try to skirt around the truth anyway, the truth I’m not quite willing to admit just yet. “That’s because I feel like I’ve made a true difference in his swing. I’m proud of myself.”

“You should be proud of yourself. His stats are climbing and there’s buzz floating around about him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for him. Come on, confess to your big brother. You want him.”

“We are so not having this conversation.” Wickedly, I say, “Remember the time you let a bunt roll between your legs on national television? Now that’s something to talk about.”

He groans loudly and a smile pulls at my lips. There’s nothing better than teasing my brothers . . . well, maybe Carson’s eyes, but that’s not something I want to admit out loud. “Okay, I get it, you’re going to keep changing the subject on me. That’s fine.” He yawns, the hour ahead of me probably whipping his butt. “I’m going to hit the hay. You be good and stay out of trouble. You hear me?”

“I always do. Love you.”

“Love you, Mills.”

I’ve always loved that Cory still makes time for me even though his schedule with the Storm is so crazy. Rian, Sean, and I tend to meet for dinner rather than talk on the phone. And when Mom calls, we always talk about different things like school and what’s happening in her world. I never feel alone. I know I’m lucky. Very lucky.