Milly: Stop it. Do you have any lucky charms I should know about?
Carson: Right now? I’d say texting you before each game.
Carson: You still awake?
Milly: Just got into bed. What’s up?
Carson: Never mind.
Milly: Okay, do you really think that’s going to work? Tell me.
Carson: I’m outside your dorm.
Milly: Really?
Carson: Yeah, come down really quick.
Chapter Twelve
CARSON
Its chilly, late, and I’m desperate for my pillow right now, but I couldn’t leave campus, not without seeing her.
It’s strange. I thought about her all weekend, but not just the mechanics she taught me, or the advice she’s given me. It was in a different way. I thought about her sweet, but stern voice. I thought about the way her right dimple seems to sink deeper than her left. I thought about the way she tosses her hair through the back of her hat, and I thought about her laugh and how it has a slight rasp to it.
I didn’t think about her as a coach, but as a girl I can’t seem to get my mind off, which I thought would be a bad thing, given my need to focus on the game and the specifics of how I bat, but it didn’t take away from my mental game. In some respects, because the game wasn’t all I focused on, I wonder if thoughts of Milly enhanced it. Her presence in my thoughts gave me . . . calm. A place away from the pressure somehow. Is this Knox and Holt meant when it came to their girls being an escape? A good escape?
Not saying that Milly is by any means my girl, but oddly, she’s always on my mind.
The dorm door swings open and Milly appears wearing a baggy pair of sweats and once again, a tank top, but this time, there’s no sports bra in sight . . . or any bra for that matter.
Hell, her nipples are hard. This is so not what I needed to see, not when I’m having these conflicting and confusing feelings.
I swallow hard and keep my eyes adjusted to focus on her face. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate me staring at her breasts at eleven at night.
She rubs her face with her palm and says, “What’s going on? Is everything okay? Is your glove okay?”
Shit, this was a poorly thought-out idea. I don’t really know why I’m here, other than I wanted to see her, talk to her, give her something small to show her how much I appreciate her.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say, feeling stupid now that I’m standing here. I pull out a packet of caramel M&M’s from my pocket then realize this is something I could have done at another time, but for the life of me, I couldn’t wait. “Here.”
She reaches out and takes the package from me, confusion written all over her brow. “Thank you.” She clutches the package, still confused. Hell, I am too. “This is why you came here, to give me M&M’s?”
Yup, looking like a real fucking douche right about now. Is this me trying to flirt with a girl? If so, I am thoroughly embarrassed with my game, or lack thereof.
“Uh . . .” I pull on the back of my neck. “Yeah, and to say thank you.”
“You’ve said thank you many times.”
“Yeah, I know, but I really want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. I had a great weekend out on the field and you’re to thank for that.”
She toes the ground, clearly uncomfortable when receiving compliments. “You put in the work, I just assisted.”
“Either way, I’m grateful.”
She shifts and then holds up the package of M&M’s. “Want to share them?”
“Right now?”
She nods shyly and then goes to a bench in front of the dorm and takes a seat. Spend a little more time with Milly outside of the ballpark? Yeah, I’ll take the opportunity, because something tells me she doesn’t do this very often.
I take a seat next to her, but straddle the bench so I’m facing her. She pulls up her right foot and hugs her leg to her chest right before opening the package of M&M’s and setting it between us.
I pop a candy in my mouth and ask, “How did your team do this weekend?”
“Great. They won.” She picks up a piece of candy as well and I watch as she truly appreciates the flavor combination of the hard candy shell and chocolate and caramel inside.
“That’s awesome. Good job, Coach.”
She smiles and then continues. “There’s this kid on