she doesn’t do parties, or because she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”
“Both.” My hope splinters. “Just kidding. That girl likes you, you can see it in her eyes and the way her body reacts whenever you’re around.”
“You’re a fucking dick.”
He laughs unapologetically. “I’m not even sorry. Someone has to yank your dick.”
“I’d prefer it not be you.” I let out a large pent-up sigh. “So what the fuck do I do now?”
“Well, you’re not married to this party, so go find her. Have her meet up with you somewhere else. Tell her it’s an emergency and then lay out all your cards. Women like that romantic shit.”
I mull his idea over. “She’s probably in for the night.”
“Pull her out. If you want this girl, then make it happen. Go to her, man, rather than expecting her to come to you. Don’t you have a place you can meet? Somewhere special between you two?”
My mind immediately falls to one place as a smile stretches across my face. “I know exactly where.”
“Then send her a text.” Jason pushes off the door and brushes off his hands. “My work here is done.”
When he leaves, I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot her a text. I just hope she responds.
Carson: Meet me in the dugout. It’s important.
Milly: Is everything okay? Be there in ten.
I stare at her message and then at the time. It’s been fifteen minutes since I sent her the text, and with each minute that ticks by, I’m starting to lose my nerve.
I can see us discussing late-night statistics followed by even later naked adventures. I can envision her by my side throughout my baseball journey. All I can see is us. I want to get to know her more. I want to be the guy who encourages her to chase her dreams, the one who stands behind her, acknowledging her intelligence and drive. I want to hold her hand, kiss her every time I see her on campus, spend the night in her dorm room, and wake up to those dimples.
Becoming restless, I bounce back and forth on my heels just as headlights shine on the parking lot and she pulls into the spot next to my car.
A wave of nerves and butterflies hit me, making me feel excited and nauseous. Thanks to a Brentwood baseball fan, I was given the code to turn on the lights on the field. Not wanting a giant spotlight on the both of us, I left it to one light so we can see each other.
I have a backpack full of picnic items if she says yes and an escape plan to tamp down the humiliation if she says no. Either way, I’m going to find out soon what the answer is.
Eyes trained on her, I watch her hop out of the car in a pair of leggings and a Bobbies for Life shirt. I smile to myself, loving that she’s a hometown girl. Chicago Bobcats fans are known as Bobbies, and even though her brother plays for the Storm, she still has a love for Chicago.
Keys in hand, she jogs down the hill to the field and slips past the chain link fence and into the dugout, looking frantic. She takes me in, my jeans and perfectly styled hair. Not what she was expecting, I’m sure.
“What’s . . . what’s going on?” she asks, sounding out of breath.
I stand from the bench, leaving my backpack on the ground but close enough that I can retrieve and sprint away. I rock on the back of my heels. “Why weren’t you at the party?”
“What?” Her brow pulls into an affronted frown. “That’s why you called me out here? To ask about the party?”
I nod, not caring that she might be mad about it. “Yeah, why didn’t you come?”
She exhales sharply and slips her hand up to her ponytail holder, letting her hair loose. My eyes immediately watch the wave of brown that floats down her back, swishing back and forth as she expels a breath of anger.
“Carson, I thought something was seriously wrong. You said it was an emergency.”
“It is an emergency. I need to know why you weren’t at the party.”
“This could have been done through text.”
I shake my head. “No, it couldn’t. I need to hear the reason, not read it. Why weren’t you there?”
“What does it matter?” she says, avoiding the answer.
“It matters to me. Why, Milly?”
She glances to the side. She’s about to tell me a lie.