Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,31

toward my room like a five-year-old.

I didn’t get more than a few steps away before I heard them bust out laughing, saying I had it bad for Danika and how they’d never seen me this way before. The last thing I needed was to stay hanging around them and prove them all right. She was a problem. Hell, she’d been a problem, and now, I was going to bring her home to meet my damn parents.

What was I thinking?

Before I could psychoanalyze myself to death, someone knocked on my door. Without saying a word, it pushed open, and Mac’s head poked through.

“Surprise, surprise.” I grimaced as he walked into my room, uninvited, and closed the door behind him.

“What’s up with you?”

“Why do you worry about me like you birthed me?” I asked because, sometimes, Mac acted like an overly concerned parent, and it was annoying. I mean, didn’t he have enough of his own girl issues to be worried about without thinking about mine?

“ ’Cause we’re friends. That’s what friends do.” He moved toward the desk in my room and sat down in the chair.

Apparently, he planned on staying.

“Don’t friends take a hint when you want to be alone instead of interrogated?” I knew I was being a jerk, but I didn’t want to talk about this anymore, and he wasn’t going to leave until I did.

“Nope. They don’t,” Mac said, completely unfazed. “You really did look like shit at dinner. I just want to know what’s up and make sure you’re okay.” I went to open my mouth in response, but he cut me off, waving a finger in the air. “And before you say anything else, you’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed, and you know it.” He was right. And it shut me up. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“She’s coming to dinner at my parents’ house on Sunday. And I thought it was a brilliant idea until I got away from her and started wondering what the hell I was thinking by pushing her into it. I mean”—I glanced up at Mac’s amused expression—“I was not going to let her say no.”

“Of course you weren’t.”

“And now, she’s meeting my parents?” I said it like a question before shaking my head and rubbing at my eyes. “Girls don’t meet my parents.”

“I’m aware. How did this even happen?”

I filled him in on the phone call from my mom, and he smiled the whole time.

“Please stop smiling.”

“It’s cute.” He started swiveling back and forth in my chair.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“You like her.”

“Mac.” I was going to argue but knew it was useless.

“At least admit it. You’re allowed to like a girl, Chance.”

I blew out a long, annoyed breath as his swiveling came to a halt, and he pinned me with a stare.

“I can’t like her,” I emphasized.

“But you do.”

“I might.”

“So, what are we going to do about it?” he asked, his face lighting up with a grin.

“Nothing. Not while she has a boyfriend at least. That’s a hard line I won’t cross,” I said the words and wondered who I was trying to convince because I knew that if Danika wanted anything from me, there was no way in hell I’d have the strength to say no.

Dinner with the Fam

Chance

I’d been on edge all weekend. Even going to the cages and taking extra hitting practice hadn’t helped. I tried yoga, meditation, and even Pilates—that shit was awful—but nothing kept my mind from the upcoming dinner or the fact that I had Danika’s number in my phone, but I felt like I wasn’t allowed to use it.

I stared at her number at least a hundred times, tempted to send her a message but never did.

It. Was. Torture.

Knowing that Danika was only a simple text away but refusing to give in.

What if she was with her boyfriend when I reached out? I wouldn’t be able to handle that. Knowing that he was with her when I wasn’t. Touching her when I couldn’t.

My dad didn’t help matters when he cornered me after practice. “Heard you’re bringing a girl home for dinner.”

I glanced around, making sure none of my teammates were in a position to overhear our conversation. The only person who knew that Danika was going home with me was Mac, and I knew he’d never tell anyone else.

“It’s not a girl, Dad. It’s my tutor.”

“Your mom thinks it’s more. She’s got Jacey all riled up.”

“What? Please make her stop, or I won’t come.”

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