Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,25

might as well be in another room.

“I’m not being weird. Am I?” He looked up and batted his eyes at me.

I refused to be mesmerized by those green beauties.

“Yes, you are,” I insisted.

He shrugged.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” I pushed because that was what us girls did. We didn’t always believe your words. Not when your body language, your tone of voice, and your mannerisms conflicted with the things you said. We pushed when we knew you were lying. So, that was what I did. I pushed.

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” I snarled.

“Bossy.”

I snapped my gum. “I think you know the answer to that already.”

He laughed, that small dimple appearing as he angled his body toward mine, but didn’t move his chair.

“Listen, Hotshot, I just want to make sure you’re not mad at me for some reason.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” he asked, and I knew he meant it. His expression instantly shifted into one of confusion.

“I don’t know. You’re just”—I paused and sucked in a breath—“sitting really far away. And acting pissed off at the world.”

A smirk appeared. “You want me to sit closer to you, Danika?” His tone was husky. Sexy. And I hated how much I liked it. “You like it better that way?”

I cleared my throat. “We obviously can’t study if we’re twenty feet apart.”

“Would you rather sit in my lap?”

What the hell?

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” I asked, feeling offended and disrespected.

Why was Chance talking to me like that? He was hot and cold, but it felt like something more. Like he was playing some sort of game, and I wanted no part of it.

His chair screeched against the floor as he pushed it back and stood to his feet. I watched him, my eyes wide as he started pacing back and forth in the tiny room.

“I can’t be your friend, okay?” Chance said the words but refused to look at me.

My heart felt like it’d lodged itself in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to end our barely begun bargain.

“Can’t or won’t?” I managed to ask through my shock.

“Does it make a difference?” He gave me a side-eye, still standing, his posture defensive, his jaw locked.

“It does to me,” I said even though I had no idea what difference it made. Sometimes, I asked questions simply to be argumentative or to get more information out of people. I was definitely doing that now just to keep Chance talking.

“I can’t,” he said. “Today anyway,” he breathed out like the admission physically pained him. “I just … can’t be your friend today.”

“So, you’ll be my friend again tomorrow?” I asked, my tone filled with as much sarcasm because I didn’t appreciate feeling like a fool, and whenever I did, sarcasm was my go-to defense mechanism.

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Friendship isn’t a game, Chance. You don’t get to turn it off and on whenever you want.”

“Fine. We won’t be friends then. Problem solved.”

I pushed out of my chair and stood before storming over to him and jamming my finger against his stupid rock-hard chest. “You don’t get to decide for both of us.” I continued my jabbing.

The distance between us was miniscule, but he closed it further, and our toes touched.

“I don’t, huh?” He looked down at me, those green eyes flaming.

We were so close that I could feel his breath, feel the heat radiating off of his body into mine.

I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to close my eyes and lean in for a kiss. This guy was not my boyfriend. And even though I was ridiculously attracted to him, I didn’t want to be. He pushed all of my buttons, riled me up without even trying, and made me feel too many things.

“No. It’s not fair. And it’s immature. Grow up, Chance,” I spat and took a step back before I did something I’d never forgive myself for. I was not a cheater.

“Immature?” he asked.

“Extremely. The fact that you can’t even handle being friends with me when I’ve given you no reason for it is stupid. And dumb. And moronic.”

“You keep using words that all mean the same thing.”

“So what?” I said, my tone completely flustered because he was right. And because my heart wouldn’t stop racing. I was almost certain Chance could hear it reverberating off the walls around us. It felt that loud.

I gave my heart a silent pep talk, reminding it that there was nothing to see here, but it didn’t listen. It had a mind of