The Locker Room(71)

“The things I hate?”

“Yeah, it would be hot.”

“It would be huge on me. You wear an extra-large, Knox.”

He twirls my hair around his finger. “Do one of those twisty things off to the side that girls do all the time.”

“With a bulky sweatshirt?”

He sighs against my head, wisps of hair floating from the exhale. “Please.”

It’s one word that breaks every single wall erected. The tone of his voice, the way he asks, I can’t possibly deny this man.

Sitting up, hand on his chest, I stare at him. His eyes search mine for a few short breaths before I say, “I would be honored to wear your sweatshirt.”

“Really?” His eyes light up with hope. My man really is easy to please.

“Really. You’re my best friend, after all.”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I like the sound of that.”

“And my man,” I add before closing the space between us and pressing my lips against his.

He hums against my mouth and flips me to my back. “I like the sound of that even better.”





Holy.

Hell.

Knox was not kidding when he said Mama G was her own caravan. I’m sitting on a Brentwood University portable cushion wearing a bedazzled baseball hat with a Brentwood baseball blanket over my lap while eating a B-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I can’t go into her outfit with all the razzamatazz happening, nor can I describe the excitement this woman is brimming with. It’s as if she’s never had a Christmas before and today is her first one. That doesn’t do it justice.

She’s beaming.

“Look at our boy out there.” She loops her arm through mine, holding me close. “So tall, so handsome.”

And those pants.

Yowza, Knox wasn’t kidding. He is a total smoke-show out there.

Tight white pants, perfectly tailored shirt that molds to his broad frame, a baseball cap that shadows his eyes, and a black sweatband on the same hand he holds his glove. It’s hot.

Really hot.

So hot that I’m thinking about all kinds of naughty things I shouldn’t be thinking about while sitting next to his mom.

And I’m not the only girl who notices just how sexy Knox is in his uniform. In the student section of the stadium, there are multiple signs and desperate women vying for his attention.

Knox, I want your baby.

Come home with me, Knox.

Party, my house, you and me, Knox.

It’s shameful, embarrassing, and frankly, pathetic. I could never imagine being one of those girls, flaunting themselves for a mere look. Well guess what, desperadoes, the only thing Knox is paying attention to is the game on the field.

And that’s the honest truth; his concentration is impeccable as the first inning is underway. He blocks out the rest of the stadium and focuses on the game, constantly moving around at shortstop, calling out the outs, delivering signs to his outfielders. He’s commanding, and it’s another reason why I can’t wait to get him back to the loft and see what other kinds of situations he can command.

“Don’t worry about those girls,” Mama G says. She must have caught my gaze. “They’re at every game, throwing themselves at the players, but Knox never gives them a second look. I raised him well enough to decipher between quality”—she eyes me up and down—“and trash.” She glances at the student section.

“Thank you, Mama G. I appreciate that.”

She gives me a side hug and says, “I adore you. You’re the first girlfriend he’s ever had, did he tell you that?”

I nod, as the crack of the bat sounds off. A ball is hit up the middle and before it gets past the infield, Knox makes a diving play, springs to his feet, and throws the guy out at first. The play lasts no longer than a few seconds, he’s so fast. Both Mama G and I clap vigorously, cheering for our boy.

He stands and holds up two fingers to his teammates as they pass the ball around the infield and finally throw it back to the pitcher. I watch Knox carefully, the way he carries himself on the field with an abundance of confidence, almost as if he’s daring batters to try to get the ball past him.

I’ve never been a huge baseball fan, but I think that play and the way Knox’s butt looks in those pants, just made me a fan for life.

“That was amazing,” I say, still astounded. “He’s so quick.”

Mama G holds a hand to her chest. “He just keeps getting better and better, it’s really impressive to watch. Being under Coach Disik’s training has vastly improved his skills from when he was in high school. It’s been hard, having him so far away, but coming to Brentwood was worth every mile between us.”

It’s endearing to see just how much Knox’s mom loves him, a pure, genuine, unconditional love. I consider my own feelings as I watch him get into position for every pitch.

Do I love him?

I think about him every moment I get a chance. I crave his touch, his voice, his hands dancing through my hair. I crave his warmth and his charm, his teasing and his sweet kisses. There are moments when he walks into my dorm and my breath catches in my throat from the mere sight of him, and when we part, it feels like a piece of me is leaving with him.

Is this what I felt for Neil? That I hated his absence, but loved every minute with him? No. This feeling is very different than what I felt with Neil.