The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,28
anger.
He didn’t care?
“So, what do you say, Christina?” Logan asked. “Can I get your number?”
“Say yes, Christina,” Lauren shouted from inside the car where she could clearly still hear us even though I’d thought she couldn’t, and it made me laugh.
“Fine. Yes,” I said before taking his phone and putting my phone number in it.
Screw Cole Anders.
Screw him right to hell.
Where Is She?
Cole
My phone pinged four times in a row, and I almost shut it off instead of looking at it. That shit annoyed me—the bombarding of messages like rapid fire. Why couldn’t people just say it all in one text?
MAC: Your girl is here.
MAC: With Logan.
MAC: They look chummy.
MAC: Get the fuck over here.
Jesus. Christina was where? And with Logan? I fired off a text response to Mac, asking for all the details, and waited twenty seconds too long for his response. I almost tore my room to pieces in those twenty seconds. I hated the idea of her being with him. Logan had warned me, but a part of me hadn’t thought he’d be that stupid. He must be getting desperate if he actually crossed the line into my territory.
I told Mac I was on my way. Tossing on a tight Under Armour shirt over my low-slung black sweats, I hopped into my old, beat-up 4Runner and drove toward The Bar. The last thing I cared about was what I looked like or what I was wearing. All I wanted to do was get there and get there quick.
I had no fucking idea what the hell I was going to do or say once I did. But it didn’t matter. Logic didn’t matter. I was running on fumes and desperation. You could probably smell them both on my skin. Slamming the car door after I parked, I practically sprinted inside, the security guard not even asking to see my ID—he knew who I was. Looking around like crazy, I didn’t see Christina. Or Logan. But Mac came up to me, as if appearing out of thin air.
“You just missed them.”
“They left? Together?” I ground out, my jaw flexing, my hands balling into fists.
“They did. He went outside with her and he didn’t come back.”
“Do you think he left with her?”
“I don’t know.” Mac gave me a slow shrug.
“How’d you get in?” I asked as I remembered that Mac wasn’t twenty-one.
“I have a fake. And I wanted to see the band that was playing. They’re so good.”
I looked around at the guys gathering up their equipment from the small stage. I knew who they all were, and Mac was right; they were awesome.
“Did they come together? Her and him? Were they on a date?” My mind started racing, my anger soaring, my jealousy fucking raging like a wild beast. I had no right to be jealous. I had no right to be or do anything, yet here I was, in my fucking sweatpants, running here in the middle of the night because I would do anything to stop her from being with him.
I tried to convince myself that I’d be okay if it was with anyone but him, but that was a lie. I’d never be okay, seeing Christina with anyone who wasn’t me. So, why couldn’t I man the fuck up and tell her that? Why did I refuse to cross that line and risk losing her forever?
“Cole.” Jason, the drummer of the band, walked up to me, his hand extended.
“Hey, man. How was it?”
“It was packed. Great show. Sorry you missed it, but to be honest, I don’t even know how half these people knew we’d be here tonight,” he said with a lopsided grin as he pulled his sweat-filled hair back and slapped on a ball cap.
“What do you mean? You guys are incredible.”
“Nah, it’s just that we haven’t updated our social media in months. But that all changed tonight, man!” he started to say, and I knew instantly what was coming next. “We got a social media manager. It’s going to change our lives. She’s fucking smart as hell.”
“That’s great. Is it Christina?”
“You know her?” He tossed his head back. “Shit. Of course you know her. But yeah.”
“Hey,” Mac said, hitting my shoulder, and I focused on the front door where Logan had walked back through with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Hey, Jason. Was she with that guy tonight?” I asked, and he warily looked at me, almost too scared to give me the answer. “Tell me,” I pushed.