The Dugout(53)

“Of course.”

She gives me one more pat and starts to walk away. “Hey, the party is tonight.”

With one more flash of those dimples, she heads up the stairs where Shane wraps his arm around her shoulders and Jerry pulls up the rear. After tonight, it’s going to be my arm around her shoulders.

Okay, it’s time to get ready.





Crash.

I slam my door and pace the length of my room.

She’s not fucking here.

It’s been two hours and she’s not here. And if I know Milly like I think I do, she’s probably curled up into a ball on her bed, watching . . . hell, she better not be watching Angels in the Outfield.

There’s a knock on my door and Jason peeks his head inside.

“So, I’ve been voted as the teammate who gets to make sure you’re not going to blow your fist through the wall and break every knuckle right before post-season.”

“Why the fuck is she not here?” I ask, pulling on the short strands of my hair.

When I got back to the loft, I took a shower rather than just rinsing off in the locker room. I cleaned the hell out of my room, made sure I put on new sheets—high hopes here—went to the store for some snacks in case Milly wanted to hang in my room, put some of my special beer in the fridge for me and her, and did my hair.

I did my goddamn hair.

And she’s not here.

Nowhere to be seen.

Don’t worry though. Shane and Jerry are here and having the time of their lives. I made sure of it since they’re the best friends and all, and when I was about to ask them if Milly was on their way, Shane drunkenly said, “Can’t believe Milly chose to stay back at her dorm.” Then he proceeded to do a keg stand.

That’s when my boiling point hit and I blew past everyone in the party and straight to my room.

She actually chose not to come. After I asked her to, after I told her she has an invite, after I even reminded her about the party at the game. She chose not to show.

What does that say about me?

Have I really read her wrong this whole time? Do I need to give up and accept that she doesn’t share the same feelings as I do?

Wouldn’t she want to spend time with me?

“Okay, I can see a vein in your forehead throbbing,” Jason says nervously. “I’m going to assume you’re talking about Milly. You invited her tonight?”

“Yeah,” I snap. “I fucking did, and I was going to finally ask her out. Fuck,” I shout. “I was prepping her all week, trying to subtly show her that I’m interested, that I want more than just her coaching. I want her, and when she’s supposed to come to the party, she doesn’t.”

“Did she ever say she’d come?”

“Ye—” I pause and think about it. “I don’t know now.”

Jason leans against my door, arms crossed with a beer in hand. What I wouldn’t give for an icy-cold brew right now. I haven’t had one drink, wanting to be sober tonight. “I don’t know a lot about Milly, but she doesn’t seem like a girl who would enjoy a party like this.” He lifts off the door, opens it a crack, and lets the boisterous party goers boom through the small opening. He quickly shuts it. “I don’t think this is her scene, man.”

I scratch the back of my head, thinking about it. “Hell, you might be right.” With hope springing in my chest, I say, “You think she didn’t show because she doesn’t do parties, or because she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”

“Both.” My hope splinters. “Just kidding. That girl likes you, you can see it in her eyes and the way her body reacts whenever you’re around.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

He laughs unapologetically. “I’m not even sorry. Someone has to yank your dick.”

“I’d prefer it not be you.” I let out a large pent-up sigh. “So what the fuck do I do now?”

“Well, you’re not married to this party, so go find her. Have her meet up with you somewhere else. Tell her it’s an emergency and then lay out all your cards. Women like that romantic shit.”

I mull his idea over. “She’s probably in for the night.”

“Pull her out. If you want this girl, then make it happen. Go to her, man, rather than expecting her to come to you. Don’t you have a place you can meet? Somewhere special between you two?”

My mind immediately falls to one place as a smile stretches across my face. “I know exactly where.”

“Then send her a text.” Jason pushes off the door and brushes off his hands. “My work here is done.”

When he leaves, I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot her a text. I just hope she responds.

Carson: Meet me in the dugout. It’s important.





Milly: Is everything okay? Be there in ten.

I stare at her message and then at the time. It’s been fifteen minutes since I sent her the text, and with each minute that ticks by, I’m starting to lose my nerve.

I can see us discussing late-night statistics followed by even later naked adventures. I can envision her by my side throughout my baseball journey. All I can see is us. I want to get to know her more. I want to be the guy who encourages her to chase her dreams, the one who stands behind her, acknowledging her intelligence and drive. I want to hold her hand, kiss her every time I see her on campus, spend the night in her dorm room, and wake up to those dimples.