“I’m a student at Boston University. I study journalism.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “How old are you?” Please be legal.
“I’m twenty. My birthday is April thirtieth, and before you check, it’s an off day,” she says with a small smile and a roll of her eyes.
A grin creeps across my face as I pull out my phone to verify that she is, in fact, correct. “That’s a shame. I would’ve had everyone sing to you. What time’s your first class?”
“I missed it. My next one is at ten.”
I lean back, flabbergasted that she’d skip class if she weren’t interested in me. “Why would you do that?”
Daisy shrugs. “I needed to return your sweatshirt.”
“You could’ve brought it to the park tonight.”
“Yes, but then people will talk and you don’t need any more rumors being spread around. You have enough.”
I smirk and lean forward. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”
“I’m sure some of them are true.”
“If they were true, they wouldn’t be rumors.” I say, shrugging. I need this conversation to go somewhere else because I don’t like the current direction. I’m not perfect. I never claim to be. I’m also no different than any other single man in the league. I like women and they like me. Some just like to blab louder. She stares at me like I’m supposed to dispel or confirm what has been written about me and that pisses me off.
My mood changes in an instant. Here I am trying to figure this girl out, get to know her and she’s bringing up the rumors floating around about me. I finish my coffee and signal for the check. I can’t change her mind, and I honestly think she’s okay with that. I have a game to prepare for, a title to win.
“I’d offer you a ride, but you’re going to tell me no or ignore me so… I guess I’ll see you at the game or something.” I throw down some money and leave her sitting at the table. I don’t look back to see if she’s watching me walk away, or getting up to chase after me. I already know she’s not. I have the feeling she met with me out of obligation and that’s it, just to appease me. And I don’t need those kinds of people in my life.
It sucks because I think she’s hot and she definitely causes a reaction, but so will the next one, and the one after that. Besides, with the road trip coming up, there will be plenty of opportunities to take out my frustrations.
As I drive toward the ballpark, hours before I’m due to be there, I think about the almost kiss last night. I’m not stupid enough to read into things, she felt something and whatever happened after we parted last night has changed her mind. When I had her in the clubhouse, she was in her own world, getting lost in the memorabilia that we keep in there. I was able to do that for her, and that brought something out in her. I guess it just wasn’t enough. It’s not like I was asking for a commitment or professing my love; I was just hoping to hang out and see where things go. No pressure.
My phone starts beeping and I reach for it, even though we’re in a hands free state. If it’s Daisy texting, I want to know
what she has to say. Thankfully my light turns red and I’m able to check. It’s not from Daisy, but from Sarah.
Sarah Miller: 25 days / dinner with my folks?
Is this a countdown to sex?
Sarah Miller: Yes. I miss you. Work sucks. M&D say hi!
Miss you too. See you in 25
Daisy’s name is right below Sarah’s. It’s funny, here I am trying to put the moves on Daisy and my ex is texting about hooking up when I get to town. My relationship with Sarah is the one thing the BoRe Blogger doesn’t know about, and hopefully never will. I don’t know what I’d do if he found out about her and starting posting shit. Besides, I’m not the only guy on the team who has women in the towns we visit.
I think about erasing Daisy’s number. I don’t need it and will probably never use it again. Thing is though, I can’t bring myself to swipe left and hit the red delete button. And that, alone, speaks volumes.
I strike out for the third time in this game, ending the inning. I slam my bat down, breaking it in two, and throw the piece left in my hand toward the bat boy. The umpire says something, but I’m walking away from him so I can’t hear him. My batting gloves and helmet are next as I throw them toward the dugout and walk to third base. The only saving grace is that we’re winning.
The bat boy brings my glove out without saying a word to me. Usually, he has something sarcastic about the umpire to offer up after I strike out, but not today, and it’s probably for the best. My current mood is less than stellar. Not only did my morning not go as planned, but as the guys started showing up so did the razzing. I get it. I do the same thing when one of the guys hooks-up. It just sucked that it was over before it even started. Everyone had a comment about Daisy and each one pissed me off more than the last. I know we’re family, but sometimes shit goes too far.
During warm-ups, I positioned myself so I could watch for her to come down the stairs to her seat. When she finally appeared, I changed positions and kept my back to her. Part of me was hoping she’d bring someone with her to show me she’s with someone and it’s not just that she’s not interested in me. But, as always, she showed up alone, wearing the same hat, with her long hair in a braid, and her bag crossed over the shoulder of her white and black Renegades shirt. I didn’t want to see her looking for me, or catch me looking at her. I haven’t looked over once since she arrived. I refuse to acknowledge her. It’s petty, but my damn feelings are hurt because she thinks the rumors she’s read about me are true. She didn’t even try to get to know me to form her own opinion, just went straight to what she’s been led to believe by people who know me about as much as she does.
“I think someone is trying to get your attention.” Easton Bennett, phenomenal short-stop for my beloved Renegades, motions toward the stands. He’s standing next to me as we take practice grounders while our closer, Kenjiro Tomita, warms-up.
“Eh, she’s just another fan,” I say, shrugging it off as if she’s no big deal. In the grand scheme of things, she’s not. I shouldn’t care about what happened this morning, but I do. I had hoped she and I could have a good time together. That’s what I get for thinking.
“Hit it and quit it already?” He bends to field the ball and does some twisty shit to get it back to first basemen, Kayden Cross.