by Lauren Runow
“I think I like you, Drew Miller,” I say.
“Right back at you, kid.”
“Okay, so now that that’s out of the way”—I giggle—“what are you doing today?”
“I’m lying in my bed now, thinking of you, of course.”
My chest instantly tightens, and my core tingles. “Okay, deep breath to get through that thought. Inhale”—I exaggerate the noise—“and exhale.” I blow out into the phone. “Okay, I’m good. Continue.”
His breathy laugh tickles my ear.
I swear I’m a goner for this guy.
“I have to get up pretty quickly though to get ready for a Skype interview with ESPN.”
“Oh, you know, I’m just going to be on national television when ninety percent of the world is home and most of the dudes are watching ESPN, dying for sports entertainment. No biggie,” I say in my manliest tone.
“And thank you for adding that level of nervousness to my morning,” he states matter of factly.
“I’m sorry. Are you really nervous?” I curl up on my couch, wanting to comfort him.
A sharp laugh escapes his lips. “Of course I am. Wouldn’t you be?”
“I just figured it was something you’d be used to by now.”
“No,” he says slowly. “I just want to play baseball. All the other stuff is hard on me.”
“But you did that video for the kids.”
Yes, I’ve watched that video a few times. He seemed so relaxed and comfortable in front of the camera.
“Yeah, but that was for kids. I can talk to kids all day about baseball. They’re still excited about the game. As you get older, it changes. Money gets involved, and things get skewed.”
“The money bothers you, doesn’t it?”
He sighs. “I can’t say I’m not happy to finally be making a good paycheck, but it adds another layer. More pressure, I guess. I’ve been playing this entire time to prove to myself that I could make a pro team. Now, I feel like I have to prove myself to earn my paycheck. And believe me, people remind you of that all the time.”
I sit silently, not sure what to say, when he says, “Wow, I sound like a whiny little bitch. I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t ever be sorry for sharing with me. I love that you even consider things like this. You can be open with me about everything.”
“And that’s what I like about you. I feel comfortable enough to do so.”
“Aw, he likes me; he really likes me,” I say, making a joke, like I always do. Then, something comes to my mind. “So, you don’t mind talking to kids then?”
“Why?” he asks, sounding suspicious.
He knows me so well already!
“I have a Zoom meeting with my class today. I know a few of them would die if you joined in. What do you say?”
“I’d love to!” he says, not hiding his excitement.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I remember all the players I looked up to when I was in sixth grade. I would have died if I’d gotten a chance to talk to them. This,” he says as a statement all on its own, “is the part of the job I love.”
This guy just keeps getting better and better.
“Well, you’re about to make me the best teacher around. What’s your email address? I’ll send you the Zoom link.”
“It’s Drew24baseball at gmail dot com.”
“Twenty-four? Is that your number?”
“Sure is. Thankfully, I’m able to keep it too.”
“I bet it took on a whole new meaning after Kobe passed,” I say, somber.
“You have no idea. I chose twenty-four because of Ken Griffey Jr. and Rickey Henderson. After hearing Kobe chose it because he said it took twenty-four/seven to make it, I loved it even more. He’s right. It’s a never-ending grind, and you have to love it enough to push harder.”
“You really love it, don’t you?”
“Every. Damn. Second,” he says with a pleased sigh.
I smile at his statement.
“Okay, I lied. Except the interview parts,” he corrects.
I laugh. “Go get ready. I’ll be watching.”
“And the nerves keep getting stronger. You’re not very good at this, you know.”
“Go get ’em, big boy!” I holler. “I’ll send you the link too. Zoom is at eleven. I’ll text you when it’s okay to get on, so I can get through the important stuff, and then you’ll be the surprise at the end.”
“I like being a surprise.”
“You’ve been my surprise through all of this,” I say with a grin.
“And you’re mine. See you soon. Bye,” he says.
And what is it about the way that guys say bye that turns me on so much? It’s like this level of anticipation that keeps you waiting for more until you talk to them next. And damn, he says the best bye for sure.
After I hang up, I call my sister, Shelly. I told her I met a guy, but I failed to fill her in on who this guy even is.
“Hey,” she says as she answers the phone. “What’s going on?”
“Is Matthew around?” I ask.
“Ha! Where’s he supposed to be besides home?” she taunts.
I shake my head at my sister’s words. “I meant, is he near you?”
“He’s in his room. Do you want me to get him?”
“Yeah, go get him and put me on speakerphone.”
I hear her walking through the house as she heads toward his room.
“Okay, he’s with me. What’s up?” she asks.
“Shelly, do you remember the guy I told you I met on Tinder the other day?” I ask.
“Um, not sure if Matthew should be hearing this, so please proceed with caution,” Shelly says in her most motherly tone.
“Oh, come on. I’m not that bad,” I plead.
“Don’t make me remind you about that last guy you dated,” she says through a laugh.
I shake my entire body to rid the memory of the mechanic who liked to play with tools inside and outside of the shop in ways that were a little questionable to everyone involved.
“Fine,” I say, giving in. “But I promise this is different. Matthew, do you recognize the name Andrew Miller?”
“Shut up, Auntie Sharee,” Matthew says, making me smile.
“Who’s Andrew?” Shelly asks.
“Mom, he just signed with the Giants,” Matthew says. “He used to play with the Titans too. Coach talked about trying to get him to come out to one of our practices since he’s local now.”
“I bet we can get him to do that,” I say playfully.
“Wait, so you’re dating a baseball player? Who you met on Tinder?” Shelly asks in disbelief.
“I know, right? I’m shocked too. I had no idea he was a player. He’s going live on ESPN in a little while. Go turn it on.”
“I will,” Matthew yells out.
“We’ll both watch,” Shelly says and then turns the speakerphone off and brings the phone to her ear. “So, you’re really talking with this guy?”
“I’m more than talking. We’re dating. Shelly, he’s so amazing. It’s been the best few days ever.”
I tell her about our time together and how great it’s been.
“I’m so happy for you,” she says.
“Thanks, sis. Okay, I have to shower. I have a Zoom meeting with my students, and he’s going to surprise them.”
“Wow, your popularity with some kids is going to shoot through the roof.”
“I know. I’m so excited to see their faces! Love ya!” I say before she replies the same, and then we hang up.
After I shower, I stay glued to ESPN, waiting for his interview to come on, checking a hundred times to make sure it’s recording. When they tease that he’s coming up, I jump with excitement and run to take my spot on the couch.
They split the screen with the host, and there, on national TV, is the guy I’m falling hard for. He looks so handsome with his hair done and a casual T-shirt on. Even the bad angle of the computer camera doesn’t h
urt how handsome he is.
When the host introduces him, his grin and silly wave make me giggle like a twelve-year-old girl watching her favorite crush on television.
Oh my God, my tween girlie dreams have come true. I’m actually dating the cute guy on TV!
The host asks questions about the season and how Drew feels about finally getting his big break, only to be sent home on quarantine. I can see that tiny bit of nervousness he talked about. It’s so stinking adorable that I can barely contain myself.
I’m distracted when an alert for a text goes off.
Shelly: Oh, he’s cute!
Me: I know! Leave me alone. I’m watching.
I curl my legs up on my couch, so I’m sitting cross-legged, and I lean forward. My cheeks are starting to hurt because I have such a big smile on my face.
“So, tell me, Andrew,” the host says. “What are you doing during this time?”
The handsomest smile grows across his face, and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. My chest pounds as I wait for his answer.
“Well, Sam, I actually met a girl and, um …”
The host laughs. “You met someone during the quarantine?”
He joins in with his own laugh. “Yep, sure did.” He shrugs. “It’s been a fun time, getting to know her—while keeping our distance, of course.”
The host nods while dropping his head slightly to hide his chuckle. “Instead of dating in the twenty-first century, it’s turned into dating during a quarantine.”
Drew laughs. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“We wish you luck with both the new season and this new girl. Thanks for taking the time to chat with us.”
“No problem. Thanks for having me.”
He disappears from the screen, and I scream out loud.
My phone rings automatically, showing my sister’s name.
“He just talked about you on TV!” she says in celebration.
“I know! I’m freaking out.”
We chat about all the ways I’m super excited until I have to hang up to get ready for my Zoom meeting.
Before I do, I send a text to Drew.
Me: So, this girl you’re seeing …
Drew: Yeah?
Me: She’d better be hot. Don’t settle for anything less. You’re a pro now!
Drew: Oh, don’t you worry. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.
Be still my heart.
Me: <3
Me: I’m about to log on to Zoom. I’ll text you when I’m ready.
Drew: I’ll be here!
In front of my students, it’s hard to contain the anticipation racing through me as I go over the plans for the day and give mini math lessons. Then, I answer any questions the students might have.
I send Drew a text to log on, and within seconds, a new screen pops up.
“Okay, everyone, I have a little surprise for you. Nick, this one’s especially for you.”
Nick, thankfully, pays closer attention, as it’s obvious he’s been playing video games while we’ve been chatting. Nice to know he’s at least listening.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I click Drew’s screen and make him the feature view. “Class, we have a special visitor today. I’d like you all to meet Andrew Miller.”
“Wait, what?” Nick yells, and he’s suddenly facing the screen, giving us his full attention.
“Hey, everyone!” Drew says, waving to the class.
“Who’s Andrew Miller?” Mandy, one of the students, asks.
“He just signed with the Giants, Mandy,” Nick answers for us.
“Yes. Yes, I did. How many baseball or softball players do we have in here?”
A few kids raise their hands.
“Are you bummed like me that your season has been put on hold?”
“Yes!” Nick shouts. “I watched your video, and my dad helped me set up an area in our backyard, so I can continue to work. Thanks for doing that.”
“Nice. Glad to know it helped,” Drew replies.
I sit back and watch as the students each take turns in asking questions. Drew comes off cool and laid-back, and I can see the difference he talked about between chatting with the media and with kids. He’s a natural with kids, and even ones who I know don’t follow sports are captivated as they listen to him talk.
Hell, I am too.
Only for different reasons than them. While they’re staring at someone they admire, I’m staring at someone who might just be the addition I’ve been wanting in my life.
9
Day 9
April 4
I stare outside at the rainy day. Now, not only am I stuck at my house, but I’m also stuck inside.
I thought about going for another run despite the rain, but I was afraid I’d slip and break an ankle. There’s no way I’m going to the doctor for anything, so, yeah, my pledge to start running every day lasted one whole day.
I’d like to say I’ll start back up when the rain stops, but the forecast shows it’s going to rain until Tuesday. By then, I’ll have long forgotten about the fact that, yes, I can physically run—plus, you know, getting back on the bandwagon is much harder the second time.
I sigh. I’ll have to fight off the wannabe WAGs with my charm and brains rather than my sexy body because, let’s face it, I’m going to gain weight while we’re in this predicament. I might as well accept that fact and move on to enjoy the snacks I bought.
When my phone rings with my favorite tune, I do a happy dance and answer, admitting my failure right off the bat, “My running streak is off, so don’t judge.”
Drew chuckles under his breath. “No judgment here. I’ll just leave you with the song by Papa Roach. ‘You gotta want it. You gotta want it,’ ” he sings out.
“Ugh, you suck, you know that?” I taunt.
“But seriously, don’t do it for me. I already think you’re sexy as hell. I loved working out with you the other day, but only do it if you want to and for no one else.”
“It was nice, watching you do all those push-ups …” I smile big.
“And see, I could only do them because you had to stop so many times. If you get better at running, then I won’t get the upper-body workout I need.”
“Now, I feel so much better,” I say, exaggerating. “Just know, when I’m lying on my ass, eating ice cream, I’m doing it for you.”
He laughs. “Great teamwork. But hey, you know what I learned today?” he says like he’s proud to share his findings.
“What?” I ask in the same tone.
“That you can’t spell virus without U and I.”
Now, it’s my turn to let out a belly-laugh at one of his jokes. “You’re too cute. Did you make that one up all on your own?”
He sighs. “I can’t take any credit for that one. I saw it online. But technically, I am your Prince Charmin because I brought you toilet paper on our first date.”
“Indeed, you did! Here I’ve always thought it was Prince Charming,” I say, enunciating the last part.
“What will all those Disney princesses do, knowing they didn’t need some guy to climb up their hair or kiss them to wake them out of a spell? Those damn girls just needed toilet paper.”
I slap my hand on the couch when I sit up as it comes to me. “Oh my God, they totally did! After the first kiss, you know they went straight to doing the horizontal tango, and they needed the toilet paper to clean up the mess! Drew, you just solved all the problems of the world right there.”
He’s laughing so hard that I can hear he’s having a hard time breathing. “Did you really say horizontal tango?”
“It is a Disney flick after all. I can’t just come out and say they went in there and he fucked her so hard that she couldn’t close her legs for a week,” I deadpan. “These are kid shows, for goodness’ sake.”
“You are too much,” he says through his laughter. “So, you’re saying that toilet paper saved the day? Not the kiss from a prince?”
“I’m saying,” I drawl out
, “the kiss leads to the fucking, which leads to the mess. So, yeah, toilet paper saved the day. Guys have no clue how much of a mess sex actually is. Us girls have to stand up and do this squishy walk-run thing to the bathroom before everything escapes and slides down our legs. Then, don’t even ask me about the stuff that falls to our asses. I feel like I’m wiping an entire gallon of self-lube afterward. It’s really not pretty.”
“Hey, that would be all from you, so you shouldn’t complain. Self-lube from the female says the guy was doing something right. Unless you’re a squirter.” He pauses. “Oh my God, do you squirt when you come?”
“Hello!” I announce. “If I squirted, all that liquid would go forward, not down my crack.”
“So, you’re saying you have no problem with what you call self-lube, huh?” he asks, changing his tone to one that’s sultrier.
“Wow, way to change the subject quickly but slyly,” I tease.
“Hey, you’re talking about sex to a guy who’s on lockdown in his parents’ home after he’s been on the road, living on his own since he was eighteen. My mind will absolutely wander in that direction, especially because I’m calling you from my car in front of your house.”
I sit up and run to the window. “You’re here?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you had a mask, like the government is recommending we wear if we leave the house.”
“Did you bring me one?” I ask, surprised by how sweet that thought is.
“My mom loves to sew, and when we saw the press conference last night, saying people should wear them, she got to work on making them for all of our loved ones.”
“And you had her make me one?” I’m not going to lie; my voice might have cracked slightly at my question.
I can only imagine the grin I hope is covering his face right now. I’m staring at him through the window, but with how my place is situated on the street, I can only see parts of him through the passenger window.
“You should have seen her face when I asked her to. Let’s just say, my parents don’t hear me talk about girls often … pretty much never.”
“So, you’re not the guy who brings your girlfriends home to meet the ’rents?”