The Locker Room(33)

With those parting words, he gives Lindsay and Dottie a curt wave and then takes off. I stand there, slightly breathless, and tingly from head to toe.

He’ll take me anyway he can have me. Well, boy oh boy, did he get a special part of me today.

“That seemed like it went well.” Dottie smiles.

I point my finger and yell, “Out, both of you.”

“But he liked your outfit.” Lindsay chuckles, scooting backward as I reach for the door to slam it.

“You’re both dead to me.”

“But . . . don’t you want to share those cookies with us?” Dottie asks.

“No.” I slam the door and flop on my bed where I can no longer hold back the smile that cracks the corner of my lips.





Knox: Party tomorrow night, are you coming?

I pause my movie on my computer and open the preview message from Knox’s student chat. Over the past two weeks, Knox has made it known how much he’s interested in me. It hasn’t been every day, or even every other day, but he keeps surprising me with gestures here and there. It’s sweet, and he’s slowly breaking down my wall, but not completely. Even though he knows the answer, every Monday after our class, he asks me to go to lunch, and I always tell him I can’t.

But with every no, his smile gets bigger. I know he can see right through me and can see the yes on my lips. He’s smart enough to know what he’s doing to me. He’s smart enough to feel the way I linger a little longer with each hug he gives me, or the way I lean into him more when he throws his arm around my shoulder. He sees the smiles I try to hide, the small touches I try to hold back, the way I dress up for him on Mondays, making sure I look my absolute best. He’s observant, and even though I’m still trying to keep him at an arm’s length, he is so close to breaking down the rickety barrier I’ve erected between the two of us.

I type him back.

Emory: I don’t think so.

Knox: Why not? Scared of the theme?

Emory: What’s the theme?

Knox: Topless.

Emory: Are you serious?

Knox: No. LOL. There’s no theme, just a beer pong tournament. I could use a partner.

Emory: Then you’re going to want to ask someone with skill. I can barely toss straight.

Knox: I’ll carry you on my back, Em. I’m a champion.

Emory: I think I’ll pass.

Knox: Then just come over to hang out. We can watch a movie in my room.

Emory: While a raging party is happening just outside the door? Won’t that be weird?

Knox: Nah, I’ve hung out in my room during a party before, and it’s not as loud as you think.

Emory: No, you have fun. I’m going to hang out here, get some work done.

Knox: Please.

Emory: Are you batting your eyelashes while typing that?

Knox: Yes, did it work?

Emory: I don’t know.

Knox: Envision this, you, me, on my bed—clothed of course, I’m a gentleman, after all—the latest trending movie on Netflix and a calzone to split from The Hot Spot. My arm draped around you, you curled into my chest, sodas, a sleeve of Oreos . . . how can you resist that?

Emory: It’s very tempting.

Knox: Then say yes.

Emory: How about an “I’ll think about it?”

Knox: I’m going to take that as a yes. Shit, got to go. Text me when you get to the loft (512-555-3452) and I’ll get you in the back way, avoiding all the partiers. I’ll see you tomorrow.

He signs out, the little green online dot goes grey. Wow, that was quick.

Calzones?

Oreos?

Snuggling with Knox Gentry? It does sound like a dream.

One I don’t think I can avoid much longer.





Chapter Thirteen





KNOX





I pound the inside of my glove, step up into position just as Coach knocks a ball in my general direction. I cut to the right, backhand the ball, jump into the air, and throw the ball across my body to the first basemen.

Executed perfectly.

I get behind the line and give Carson a high five as we continue to run through drills.

A freshman is up next, Ned Farkle—his parents didn’t expect him to become a major league baseball player with that name, that’s for sure. He’s damn good though, and Coach hits him a screaming grounder that he fields with no problem, but then takes at least five steps toward first before throwing across the diamond.

Quick release; it’s what Coach Disik lives by. Traveling across the field takes up too much time and it’s not the fundamental baseball Disik teaches. I know this because it was a habit he beat out of me. Dropping the bat, Disik jogs out to Farkle and gets in his face, talking about needing a quick release. I take that moment to fade in the back with Carson who quietly turns to me and says, “Everything set for tonight?”

“For the party?” I mutter quietly from the side of my mouth.

“Yeah.”

“No idea, Holt was in charge. Emory is coming over and we’re going to do our own thing.”

“Really?” Carson looks surprised. If I wasn’t so damn confused over this girl, I would be insulted, but I’m just as surprised as he is.

“Yeah. She didn’t seem up to party so I offered to hang out in my room.”