The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,9

to make sure I had a backup plan. A plan B. The one thing he had done was pound me with stats about the number of baseball players in the country versus the percentage of them who actually got drafted into the minor leagues.

He acted as if I hadn’t already known this information. Every ballplayer knew that the reality of going pro was slim, but that never stopped us. We didn’t care if there was a one in a million chance of getting to play professional baseball; we still would go for it. That was the thing about dreams—you refused to give up on them, even when other people told you they couldn’t come true.

“Um, he loves watching me play, but he thinks it’s a pipe dream. He never says those actual words, but I can tell by the other things he says.”

“That sucks.” Chance grimaced.

“Yeah. Well, we all can’t have Jack Carter for a father,” I said, and Chance stood there, looking at me, clearly unsure of what to say.

“Having him for a dad hasn’t sucked,” he said quietly.

“Now, back to what I was saying about your mom before you interrupted me like a dickhead.” A cautious grin appeared on his face, and I continued, “Your parents met here. At this school.” I pointed down at the grass at our feet. “And here we are, on a girl strike.”

“What the hell is your point?”

I looked around the yard again before searching the house for her. Christina stood inside there with her friends.

“I don’t know. We can’t all be Mac, I guess,” I said as we both saw him still attached to some random chick’s face.

Chance exhaled a dramatic and loud breath. “Go talk to her already. You guys clearly have unfinished business. So, go figure out exactly what it is.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. It was like I had been waiting for his permission or some shit … someone to tell me it was okay to want her.

I tossed my cup to the ground and stormed inside, determination written all over my face even though my insides were a nervous wreck.

I’m Not Yours

Christina

I walked into the house and toward my girlfriends, a cold beer in my hand as I stopped and glanced around.

Lauren leaned close, whispering in my ear, “Pass or fail?” and I knew she was talking about her stupid Cole Anders test.

“Hard fail,” I said before taking a large gulp of the cheap beer.

She pressed her lips together in a straight line before declaring, “Dammit. I really thought you’d pass.”

Pulling the crisp twenty from her pocket, she shoved it down my shirt and into my bra. I left it there.

“You and me both,” I said but knew it was a lie. “Can we go now?”

Lauren laughed like I had said the funniest thing in the world. “No. We’ll get you over Cole by hooking you up with one of his friends.”

“I don’t think it works like that.” I took a stuttering step backward, suddenly uncomfortable. The last thing I wanted was to betray Cole by getting together with one of his friends.

“Come on, Chris.” Lauren leaned toward me. “It will make him seethe with jealousy. He won’t be able to handle it.”

She sounded like she knew what she was talking about, but that was impossible. Cole had said he didn’t want me, so he wouldn’t be jealous.

“He doesn’t want me, remember? In order to make him jealous, he’d have to care in the first place.”

I watched her look around before her expression changed into surprise. “Oh, he cares all right. And he’s about to show you just how much.”

What? I grew nervous as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind me, and Lauren grinned wickedly before moving away.

“Why are you here?” His voice was a masculine whisper in my ear. It wasn’t kind, and I hated the way my body reacted to his nearness.

He wasn’t even being nice, and here I was, chilled to the bone with his presence and the smell of him.

Sucking in a deep breath, I turned around to face him, his blue eyes mesmerizing me like always. “What?” I asked with as much confidence as I could muster.

“Why are you here, Christina? Did you come to see me?”

God, he is arrogant.

“Get over yourself.” I tried to sound tough but wondered if the lie was written all over my face.

“You did. You came to see me,” he said, confident and cocky.

Taking a sip of my beer, I decided to tell him the