Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,30
had no idea how to be normal around her. She made me question what normal even meant. She made me feel things I didn’t want to feel.
“I’m going to need your number.”
Her face went blank. “What?”
“Your phone number, Danika. Type it in,” I said as I shoved my phone into her hands.
She frantically punched at the keys, adding her name and number in what seemed like record time before she handed it back to me like it was on fire.
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way to pick you up on Sunday.”
She looked nervous, and I knew that she was struggling internally the same way that I was. There was no way in hell these feelings were only one-sided. She felt them too.
“Okay.”
“It’s all good, Danika. Friends eat dinner together, right?”
“Sure.” She shrugged with one arm. “They just don’t usually do it at their parents’ house.”
“Why not?” I was being a smart-ass, but toying with her this way was fun. Seeing Danika flustered and knowing it was because of me gave me an ego boost I’d never known I needed.
She glared at me before answering, “Because meeting the parents is relationship material. Not friend material.”
“Says who?” I pushed again.
“Society? Everyone? I don’t know.” She was rattled, and it was cute as hell.
“Let’s break the rules then. Be different.”
“I already said I’d go with you.”
“Just don’t want you backing out. Getting cold feet or anything.”
Her back grew rigid, and I watched as her features steeled. I’d pushed her a little too far.
“This isn’t a date, Chance. No cold feet required.” She suddenly rose to her perfectly warm feet, and I followed suit, hovering over her frame.
“I’ll see you Sunday,” I said as I looked down at her, but her eyes kept moving from my face to the door behind me. My eyes stayed focus on one thing—hers.
“Yep. See you then.” She sounded unsure, and I couldn’t have her changing her mind.
“I really need to pass that test.”
“I know you do,” she said before walking out the door, no doubt wanting to be the first one of us to leave the room.
I knew in my guts that it took everything in her not to turn around and look at me one last time before she disappeared out of view. Little Spitfire. I’d let her have this small victory, but Sunday was mine … whatever the hell that meant.
I must have had a weird expression on my face because Mac called me out during dinner at the baseball house.
“Why do you look like a cartoon villain who just got away with something bad?”
My fork dropped to my plate with a clang. “Pretty sure I don’t look like a cartoon anything, dick.”
“You look”—Mac narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he studied me, drawing way too much attention even if it was only from my teammates—“like you’re up to something.”
“He isn’t wrong, Carter,” Colin added from the other end of the table.
He was our starting shortstop, and before I could snap at him the same way I’d snapped at Mac, Dayton, one of our pitchers, chimed in as well.
“What are you up to, Chance?” he asked, dragging out the word are.
“You three are annoying. I’m not up to anything. What the hell would I be up to anyway?” I tried to argue, but Mac’s face lit up like a damn kid on Christmas morning.
“Something happened with Tutor Girl,” he said, looking at Colin and Dayton instead of at me.
Dayton let out a whistle. “I’d pay good money to have something happen with Tutor Girl,” he teased. Or maybe he wasn’t teasing because my blood started to boil in defense of his accusation.
“Don’t start,” I demanded, and he grinned.
“It’s not our fault your tutor is fucking hot,” Colin added, and I wondered if they all had death wishes. “But why the all black, all the time? Is she sad?”
“No, she’s not sad,” I bit out, defending her against his idiotic question. “And she’s not available, so stay away from her.”
“Because you’re banging her?” Colin asked.
I actually fucking growled. It was embarrassing but too late to take it back.
“Because she has a boyfriend. And I don’t need any of you guys messing with the one person who is going to help me stay eligible this season.”
That shut them up. Momentarily.
“You do know that if I fail this class, I can’t play this year, right?”
They all nodded in unison.
“So, stay away from her,” I instructed before tossing my dirty dish in the sink and stomping