Even if it does fill out his uniform dreamily.
I’ve done that before, falling for a teammate, and it turned out terribly. Emotions make things confusing and cloudy on a typical day, but throw in misinterpreting lust for love, and you’ve got a slew of complications on your hands. Emotions distract you from what matters and ruin friendships, and that’s just the way it is.
Plus, there’s no way I’d live something like that down with these guys. Especially as the first woman to ever be accepted onto the record-breaking Tempt University men’s baseball team. I have to prove my worth to coach and everyone watching, and falling for one of them would make me the laughing stock of the century. I’d never be able to show up to practice again, let alone be taken seriously in the world of baseball, assuming anyone would take me onto their team after showing I let my emotions get the better of me.
If I want to be respected and treated as one of the guys, I’m going to have to keep acting like one. And typically, men don’t drool over their attractive teammates.
Which means I can’t. In fact, the best way to avoid any possibility of falling for Garrett is to convince myself as well as him that I hate his guts.
Maybe if I keep it up, I’ll start to believe it myself.
CRACK!
The sound of wood hitting rubber rips through the air, snapping me from my thoughts.
“I’ve got it!” I shout, rushing to my right. The ball is headed straight for me, and a jolt of excitement courses through my veins when I realize I’m totally going to win this for our team.
My feet take me there without me even having to tell them, and before I know it, I’ve got my glove outstretched and ready for victory. Too easy, I think to myself.
I should have kept quiet.
WHAM!
I knock into something that feels like a brick wall. It takes a moment for my vision to come back, and when it does, what I see makes me angry as hell.
Turns out, that wasn’t a brick wall. It was Garrett freaking Campos and his hard-as-steel abs. Our bodies collide, and we tumble to the ground.
“Jesus Christ!” Garrett yells, trying to wrangle out of our somehow entangled limbs.
But I don’t even notice that we’re tangled up together—I’m eyeing the ball, now rolling just out of my reach. The batter’s already at second base, and I’m still on the damn ground wriggling like a worm! I struggle to shove Garett’s heavy body off mine but to no avail. “Ugh—get off me!”
Our infielder, Joey Blanco, rushes to grab the white ball and throw it home, but he doesn’t make it in time. The other team wins. I collapse onto whatever part of Garrett’s body I’m lying on in defeat.
“Damn you, Campos,” I mumble into the grass.
Garett massages his forehead where mine crashed into it, giving me the evil eye.
I groan and roll to the side, finally free of the majority of his body weight. “You’re such an ass.”
“I called it,” he says.
“Bullshit, only after I did first,” I say like a freaking middle schooler. Garrett always does this to me—brings me down to his level and makes me act like an idiot. How am I supposed to prove my worth when Garret turns me into an incompetent child?
Coach Bob blows his whistle from the entrance to the dugout. “Alright you turds, quit yer fooling around. Practice is over.”
Our teammates snicker on the sidelines at Coach’s terminology, seeing as Garrett and I are still twisted together on the ground. I scramble out of his grasp and pop up to standing, quickly joining the others at the dugout.
There’s no fooling around here. Especially not with Garrett.
Chapter Two
Garrett
I rub my forehead and slowly stand up, annoyed that we lost the damn practice game. And to top it all off, I can feel a gnarly headache coming on. Cassy catches my eye, and I point to my forehead, silently telling her, “this is all your fault.” She just shakes her head and heads out with the rest of the team. I let out a sigh. Cassy Jones is a pain in my ass.
I’m the last one in the dugout to grab my bag, and when I step back onto the field, Coach Bob is waiting for me.
“A word, Campos?” He looks like something’s troubling him, which is unusual for Coach Bob. Typically, he’s all smiles and smack talk, but ever since Cassy joined the team, he’s gotten much more serious. I think it has to do with keeping our hard-earned spot at the top of the competition. I don’t see what he could possibly be worried about, though. As much as I give Cassy crap for being runner up in stats to me, she’s one hell of a baseball player. Ever since she joined, practice has been much more entertaining, to say the least. And not even the other guys are willing to challenge me as much as she does.
I step up to Coach and wait for him to tell me what’s on his mind. He checks to make sure everyone else is out of earshot, casually smiling and waving goodbye to my teammates. When they’re off the field, he turns to me and says, “Stop flirting with Jones.” He gives me a knowing look and doesn’t say anything else.
I burst out laughing, shocked at the ridiculousness of his comment. But he doesn’t laugh. He just stands there patiently waiting for me to shut up. “What the hell are you talking about, Coach? I don’t flirt with Cassy.”
“Listen,” Coach says, patting my shoulder, “I’ve been around a long time. Long enough to notice when a woman is attracted to someone.”
I can feel my face contort into a crazed look. “Are you insane?” My mind flashes back through every interaction I’ve had with Cassy. She’s either giving me shit about my game, saying I don’t deserve the top spot on the team, or challenging me to prove it. Never once has she made a move. For all I know, she sees me as the annoying piece of gum on her shoe.
“Believe me, there is absolutely no flirting going on,” I say. Part of me feels offended that he would accuse me of flirting, which I honestly consider a talent. One I wouldn’t waste on someone who clearly isn’t interested.
“You ever been to elementary school, son?”
“Huh?”
“Look, normally I wouldn’t give two shits who you flirt with, but Cassy is our best player—”
“Second best,” I cut in.
Coach gives me a look. “We need her to stay focused on her first game. We need all of you to stay focused. You only make a first impression once, and I want all the other teams to see us as even more of a threat than we’ve ever been now that she’s on board.” My defenses relax when he says this because I realize this isn’t an attack on me. Coach has always been a ball-buster, a no-bullshit kinda coach who has a reputation for leading this team to victory. It’s no secret why he’s stressed about maintaining that record. He’s the first coach to take a chance on allowing a woman to join the team, and he doesn’t want our reputation (or his) to go down the toilet. Everyone’s eyes are already on us, but now even more so with the addition of some estrogen. It’s a significant risk, that’s true, but I think he’s being a bit dramatic.
“You thinkin’ about what I’m sayin’?” Coach looks me in the eyes, and I can tell he’s not messing around.
“Yeah, I got it,” I say, still annoyed that he’s accusing me of such an unthinkable act.
Coach nods his head. “Good. You can have any girl you want, son, but you can’t have her.” He pats me on the shoulder once more and heads out. I shake my head, thinking that the whole conversation was pointless. I rub my temples as I head for the parking lot, confused and growing a headache. There isn’t a problem here, and there never was, because I don’t want Cassy.
And she definitely doesn’t want me.
Chapter Three
Cassy
The blazing California sun shines down on me once again, but it’s actually enjoyable in the slight breeze. Tiny droplets of water float my way from the school fountain in the middle of the grassy quad. Every time they do, it’s a refreshing little cause for a smile. I turn the page in my World History textbook, eager to get this homework done so I can get back
to what I really want to do—watch the Angels beat the Dodger’s ass. The game is in forty minutes, and I only have another page of essay questions to go before my stupid GE class homework is done. But working on it outside in this gorgeous weather makes it more bearable.
I come to an essay question that stumps me, so I look around for inspiration. That’s when I see him.
He’s sauntering across the quad toward the dorms when two blonde women stop to talk to him. Their high-pitched flirty laughs ring through the air. Garrett must have said something stupid because he’s got that signature cocky smirk plastered on his face. He doesn’t see me, thank goodness. Though, I’m not exactly sure why I don’t want him to. I should dive right back into my work, but my eyes are glued to him.
The two toss their hair and giggle like little girls. Everyone is always flirting with Garrett. It’s easy to see why. He stands tall and confident. His wavy brown hair always has that carefully tousled “I don’t care” look, and every time he smiles (even when it’s just one of his smirks), those pearly whites are blinding. He’s smart. He’s athletic. And that muscled body of his looks great in whatever he decides to wear. I take note of his outfit now, realizing it’s the first time I’ve actually seen him off the field since I joined the team at the start of this year. He’s sporting black board shorts and a fitted tank top that shows off his perfectly toned arms.
But perhaps the most attractive part about him is his eyes. Those caramel brown irises match his sun-kissed skin perfectly, and every time he looks at me, I have to fight hard not to melt in his warmth.
Like right now.
I quickly turn away the moment our eyes meet. Shit. Maybe Garrett didn’t see me staring. It’s possible he didn’t even recognize me, now that I think of it. As far as I know, he’s only ever seen me in our baseball uniforms.
“Cassy?” His voice cuts through my thoughts. When I look up, he’s standing right in front of me. Our eyes meet again, and his widen with recognition.
“Hey, Garrett,” I say, looking everywhere but at him.
He eyes me up and down, taking in my entire appearance. Garrett starts at my mane of blonde curly hair sticking out from under my Angels cap and ending with a long appreciative glance at my bare legs, which, come to think of it, I’ve never seen on him either thanks to our ankle-length uniform pants. He’s sporting manly brown leg hair, but I’m thankfully smooth as a dolphin. I feel unusually self-conscious under his gaze. The longer he stares, the closer I get to jumping into that fountain to cool off.
“What are you up to?” he asks, a strange look taking hold of his features. It’s like it pains him to talk to me. Or maybe, he’s just confused as to how I can exist outside of his baseball life.
I hold my textbook in front of him. “Homework,” I say, gesturing to my essay answers as if it’s proof that I’m not stalking him. Which I am not. Where did that thought even come from?
“This close to the game? It starts in,” he checks his watch, and for some reason, the movement gives me a nice whiff of his fresh-smelling deodorant, “fifteen minutes.” I nod, wondering why I noticed such a small detail about him. Maybe because he always smells like BO, a tiny voice in my head says. I smirk to myself. Yeah, that explains it.
Garrett gives me a curious look like he’s wondering what could be going on in my head as I stand here silently making faces.
“I’m just leaving, actually.” I slap my book shut and shove my stuff back into my backpack, trying not to stress about this odd moment between us. My skin is still on fire, but I’m telling myself it’s just the sun beating down on me.
Before Garrett can say anything else, I turn on my heel and head the other direction. My heart pounds into my rib cage, and I feel terrified by that encounter. Why? I have no idea. It’s not like I don’t see Garrett every day on the field. But maybe that’s just it. I thought I could keep my feelings for Garrett under lock and key if the only time I ever had to interact with him is at practice and games. But it’s totally naïve to think I could avoid him forever. Or at least until I graduate. Right?
I try to nip that attraction right in the bud. No, he’s not cute. No, his smirk does nothing for me. And no, he definitely wasn’t checking me out.
Despite myself, I glance over my shoulder to take one last look at him as I walk away. He catches me looking and smiles. It’s so much worse than his sexy grin. This smile isn’t one of his narcissistic, “I’m so attractive,” smiles. This smile is all about me. It says, “I see you, Cassy,” and it steals the breath from my lungs.
What have I done?
Chapter Four
Garrett
I watch Cassy walk away, noticing for the first time the curve of her hips and the way her toned muscles contract in her legs as she walks. She isn’t wearing her uniform, and it’s striking to see her in a different outfit. Though it’s just a tank top, jean shorts, and a pair of battered black converse, something about seeing her so approachable, casually hanging out by herself in public caught me off guard. Cassy Jones is actually… beautiful. Everything about her is curvy and feminine. Her eyelashes, hair, and even her lips all possess a certain level of femininity that draws me in and makes me wonder why I never saw it before. Why does she downplay it? I wonder. My mind starts coming up with images of what she might look like wearing lipstick, how her curves might be accentuated by a silky dress, or perhaps a bikini…
Wait a minute. Why the hell do I even care? I’m not attracted to her, and I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all.
But just as I tell myself to snap out of it, I notice Cassy turn around and give me one last glance. Our eyes meet, time stops, and at that moment, I realize I’m a total fool.
Cassy Jones is checking me out.
Damn it if Coach Bob wasn’t right. She is into me. Just as I think those words, Cassy’s eyes go wide, as if she’s realizing it at the same time as me. I can’t help the self-satisfied grin from stretching across my face.
A pink blush spreads on her cheeks, a color and expression I’ve never seen on her before, and she swiftly turns away. I stare after her for a moment, absentmindedly aware of the fuzzy feeling taking over my stomach.
That damn feeling grows as I follow my feet toward the dorms to meet Joe and the boys to watch the game. Before I know it, we’re sitting on Joe’s couch with some other friends, eating burgers from a takeout place. Where the hell did my brain just go?
I take a bite of my burger, but I don’t taste anything. I don’t even hear the game or Joey giving me shit about whatever he’s saying. All I can think about is Cassy.
And the more I think of her, the stronger that damn fuzzy feeling gets until there’s no denying what’s happening to me.
I put down my half-eaten burger with a sigh. “What’s wrong?” someone asks.
“I’m not hungry,” I mutter, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I am hungry. I think I’m hungry for Cassy.
Chapter Five
Cassy
The next day we have a night practice, and the whole time I’m on the field, I can feel Garrett’s eyes on me. It’s entirely distracting. He’s more quiet than usual, not giving me any crap about anything and keeping to himself. Usually, I’d say it’s exactly what I need to keep my mind off him, but just the opposite is true. I can’t stop wondering what the hell he’s thinking behind those dark eyes, hooded by his cap.
I ignore him the whole time we play Coach’s “Battle of the Best” (a stupid name for when he splits the team in half and has us play a standard baseball game against each other). Pretty soon, I’ve got an itch on my back that I can’t scratch, and it’s right where Garrett keeps looking at me. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I cast a sideways glance at Garrett. He’s already smiling when my eyes find his. Damn it! I turn away. Foolish move, Cassy. My heart pounds in my throat. What is wrong with me?
For the rest of practice, I keep my eyes to myself. And when everyone is done, and my team loses the battle, the guys invite me out for pizza an
d beers at Positano’s.
“No, thanks,” I tell them, even though I’m starving, and I’d love to be around friends. “I could eat an entire pizza and a half myself, but I’ve got a lot of homework.” It’s not entirely a lie. I do have homework. But I’ll be running the bases first (my favorite way to clear my mind after practice), and avoiding Garrett like the plague.
The boys laugh. Joey says, “It’s true. I’ve seen her eat a pizza and a half, and let me tell you: it’s not a pretty sight.” The other guys laugh and slap me on the shoulder as they head out. I smile. I hadn’t realized it wasn’t a pretty sight, but now that I think of it, I wouldn’t want to be sitting across from that picture either. But I don’t take it as an insult. In fact, it makes me feel great. I’m one of them. As it should be.
I put in headphones and prepare for a run around the bases until all I can think of is trying not to throw up. Kind of an intense method for clearing my head, but it’s one way to ensure I get Garrett off my mind.
I wave goodbye to the guys (noting that I don’t see Garrett anywhere and silently thanking God he’s already left) and head off on my trek. I’m already halfway to forgetting him when I turn from third base to head home and discover the sonofabitch standing there, waiting for me.
I trip and fall to the ground, sliding on the dirt to home base, but not in a cool way.
Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Not that I care what Garrett thinks anyway. I jump back up to standing and dust myself off. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection Page 9