Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,27

to transfer funds from other accounts like that? Maybe I was just making an assumption.

After I hit the print button, I stood up from the couch, heading toward the kitchen to grab Mom her water. More information would have to be looked up for sure, but it was a step in the right direction.

* * *

“Should you be sitting that close to the fire, dude? You’re going to burn off an eyebrow.”

The “party” at Ryan’s house turned out to be small, just like Walsh said. But by small, he meant small. Ryan’s house wasn’t nearly as big as Walsh’s, and neither was his gathering of people. Mostly baseball players showed up, all chilling in Ryan’s living room. No obnoxious music, drunken high schoolers, or alcohol.

Well, there was a little bit of alcohol, not that I drank anything.

Ryan had lit the fireplace in his living room and pressed his face as close to the flames as possible, letting the heat warm his face.

“I doubt you’re going to be able to get girls with one eyebrow,” Zach continued from where he sat on an armchair, shaking his head of dark hair. The width of his shoulders made him look more like a linebacker than a baseball player, but it wasn’t hard to see what Edith liked about him. He was pretty cute. “You can barely get them now.”

“You’ve never seen my charm at work, Balker.” Ryan pulled back from the fire to take a drink. “Walsh, you think I could rock a one-eyebrow look?”

Walsh and I sat on the couch together, one of his arms draped across my shoulders. He’d cleaned up since earlier, replacing those horrible shorts with chinos. The fancy shoes were missing, replaced with black sneakers. “It would look a little funny if you ever tried to raise your eyebrows,” he replied without hesitation. “So I vote no.”

Ryan looked to me. “Sophia?”

I pressed my lips together to hide a grin. “I think I have to side with them. If anything, I’d burn them both off.”

Walsh laughed at that and nestled me closer. “It’s unanimous. Move away from the fire, nimrod.”

“I don’t know if we’re going to win tomorrow,” a different player said, lounging on the adjacent sofa. I couldn’t remember his name, but I thought it started with a T. “Walsh, your game has been off. I blame your new relationship mojo.”

“Sophie isn’t the reason we’re losing games,” Walsh said immediately. “It’s because you think it’s a wise idea to come to games hungover.”

For some reason, hearing him use that nickname now—Sophie—had me nearly smiling, no annoyance in sight. Not that our banter about it held much heat before, but hearing it roll off his tongue now made it different. Maybe it was the fact that we were in front of all his friends, and he wasn’t trying to make me invisible. He’d spoken it like an endearment, and that was something I could get behind.

Wait. No. Not acceptable.

“Or pre-hungover,” Zach added, grinning at Walsh.

“No, it’s definitely Walsh,” a new voice added, and we all turned toward the entrance of the living room.

Scott, the girl he’d been hanging onto at the party, and Celia Lemons walked into Zach’s living room, coming around the corner from where the front door was. The girl who’d been with Scott wore a pair of sweatpants and a workout shirt, her curly hair wild around her shoulders.

Part of me was surprised she’d shown up to a party in sweats—the other part of me was jealous. I wish I’d worn sweats and not a fancy top and jeans.

Celia glanced around the room, eyes resting on Zach.

“He fell asleep at the game against Northwood last Friday,” Scott went on, not caring that no one replied, that no one greeted him. “Right there on the bench. Coach reamed him out for it.”

“I wouldn’t talk, Scottie,” Walsh replied just as casually, unbothered. “I’m not the one who strikes out every game.”

Scott just ignored that, though, brushing the words off so easily. “Sophia, have you met Jewel? Jewel Branson?” Scott gestured to the girl that was practically on top of his heel. “My new girlfriend?”

Of course it had to be a unique name like Jewel. Unique, pretty, and I hated it. Okay, maybe not really. But I did hate that he’d moved onto someone prettier, better, and all the things that I wasn’t. And he was rubbing it in my face.

“Hi, Jewel,” I told her, forcing myself to find a genuine smile.

She showed her own set of sparkling teeth.