Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,76

side of the counter and into view, greased back hair, stained polo and all. He was wearing a bad smile that somewhat resembled Walsh’s but wasn’t nearly as pretty. Seeing him startled me for a quick second, mostly because I’d forgotten that he worked here.

“Can’t get enough?”

“Of water, no. Of you—” I cut myself off, refusing to say anything that he could assume as flirting. “I’m out for a walk.”

“I can see that,” Scott said, ringing up my candy bar. He eyed the collar of my shirt. “Unless you were doused with water, that was my guess.”

I picked at my shirt, holding it away from my sticky skin. “Why aren’t you at practice?” I asked, fishing for something to say. The baseball team had early practices every morning up until Thursday, the team’s final game of the baseball season, to get everyone prepared. “Shouldn’t you be at the ballfield?”

Scott gestured to his polo. “Couldn’t get off work. Coach isn’t happy with me.”

“Careful,” I warned, watching as he scanned the water bottle. “Or you’ll be benched for the big game.”

He punched a button, and the cash register beeped. “Four twenty-two, and yeah, bet Walsh would love that.”

I handed over a five-dollar bill, inwardly groaning at the road this conversation went down. What did Walsh really want, anyway? I really, really want to kiss you. Kissing me couldn’t have been what he wanted all the time. Perhaps in that one moment, under the lights and stars and while we were high on our laughter, our bodies close together. But now, if he were to walk through the automatic doors, would he still feel the same?

“I want to say that I’m sorry.” Scott lifted his head, still holding my change. “For the Fourth. And the party at Ryan’s. I acted…well, I acted like a jerk.”

“Yeah, you did.” He’d acted like more than a jerk, but I wasn’t going to push it.

Scott leaned his forearms on the countertop, running a hand over his greasy hair. “I’d like to try and get together again, to talk. About us.”

I wanted to tell him that those days were over, long gone, but I knew “no, thanks” wouldn’t have gone over well. Instead, I simply said, “Maybe.” But probably not. Snatching up my candy bar and bottled water, I stepped away. I needed to get out before I said something stupid or he said something stupid, both entirely plausible. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got to get my heart rate back up.”

“Looking at me doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

I ignored that, trying hard not to roll my eyes. My legs felt shaky as they led me to the door, but I turned around just before it automatically slid open, something catching in my brain. Before I stopped to think about it, I drew in a breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

Scott leaned his elbow onto the countertop. “Sure.”

“I heard a rumor that I’m not sure is true,” I said, walking back to the counter, turning the water bottle over in my hands. It was starting to sweat, water beading along the plastic. “About the baseball team.”

“What kind of rumor?”

Now or never. “That you guys are paying off the other teams.”

It was risky, so stupidly risky, to say that to him. To confront him like that. But if I asked Walsh this question, I didn’t know how he’d react. And quite honestly, I didn’t want to ask him, didn’t want to use our relationship to my advantage like this. Asking Scott felt like fair game, but that could totally backfire.

Scott’s dark eyes remained steady as he watched me, his poker face impeccable. “Where’d you hear that?”

“A source.”

“You sounded like a real hard-hitting journalist there, Sophia,” Scott chuckled, leaning both elbows onto the counter now, propping up his head. “Why do you care what the baseball team does?”

I lifted a shoulder, trying to feign a nonchalance genuine enough to convince him. “Just curious, is all. Walsh mentioned that Coach pushed you guys to win, so I didn’t know if you went to those kind of measures or not.”

“So why don’t you ask Walsh?”

I gave him a gooey smile. “You’ve always been honest with me.”

Scott’s lips turned up into a smile, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. It was one that made my insides feel sick, like my intestines came down with a bout of the flu. It was an unpredictable one, one I couldn’t quite decipher.

“We don’t pay off the other team,” Scott said finally, pulling away