Did that mean she’d never been kissed?
My mind flashed on an image of her in the backseat, partly in the shadows, her lips dark and lush, her gaze wary but fixed firmly on mine like she wouldn’t back down.
I felt a smile tugging at my lips at the memory.
Baby chick my butt. She was smart as a whip and had a spine of steel.
She was just inexperienced, that was all...and maybe a little shy. All she needed was some confidence.
“We should do everything we can to help her get his attention,” Rose said. “And then she can dump him when she realizes he’s just a pretty face.”
“Nope,” Jax said with a shake of his head. “No way, no how.”
Rose and I exchanged a look of surprise at his vehemence. I stiffened. It was one thing to not love the idea of a pseudo little sister dating, but if it made her happy—
“Why not?” Rose snapped.
Jax widened his eyes like Rose had just asked a crazy question. “Why not? Because he’s not just an idiot, babe. He’s a total player.”
I froze in the middle of eating, one hand hovering in front of me as those words sank in.
“A player? Are you sure?” Rose asked.
Jax gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve seen this guy with girls. Let’s just say he doesn’t treat them well. He’ll say whatever he needs to say to hook up and then forgets all about them the next day.”
“Gross,” Rose said.
Jax just gave another sigh. “Do you see why I was embracing the fact that Simone has a crush on that guy?”
“Did you tell Simone that?” Rose asked.
“I didn’t have a chance.”
Silence fell over the table, and I set my fork down slowly as my gut churned with an unfamiliar emotion. I push my chair back.
I needed air.
“Should I tell her?” Jax asked.
“I don’t know,” Rose said slowly.
I did. He shouldn’t. Because even if Jax told her, she wouldn’t believe him. I wasn’t sure at what point I’d started to understand Simone, but I knew this just like I knew why she’d been so hurt by Jax’s response.
Anything he said she’d twist around to fit her current world view. To support her insecurities. She’d think he was steering her away from Tony because she didn’t stand a shot with the guy.
I pushed my chair back further as that uncomfortable sensation grew into something seriously unpleasant. My gut was roiling with an anger that was entirely out of character for me.
I didn’t get pissed. I was focused. I only cared about things that mattered.
But right now, all that mattered was making sure Simone didn’t get hurt by some loser with an ego problem and a bass guitar.
Without even meaning to, my gaze found Simone on the other side of the crowded cafeteria. She was laughing over something that Max girl was saying.
She was cute when she laughed.
That smile made her look sweeter than ever.
Like magic, that smile turned this ugly churning sensation into something else. Something close to rage but far more primal.
Protectiveness.
Maybe even...possessiveness.
There was no way I’d let some idiotic player ruin this girl’s first taste of romance. I’d make sure she steered clear of danger….even if I had to date her myself.
8
Simone
* * *
I tried to ignore Andrew the next day, but it was nearly impossible to do when he sat beside me in the library during my study hall.
I’d murmured a greeting when he’d arrived but I’d kept my head buried in my book.
Why?
Because it was bad enough that my worst fears were confirmed when Jax had acted so horrified by my crush. The fact that Andrew had witnessed it had only added fuel to the flames of mortification.
He made it impossible to ignore him.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
The sound of pages turning next to me finally had me lifting my head to see what he was doing.
I gasped, my eyes widening in horror as I saw what he was flipping through.
A magazine. A dumb girlie magazine that had telltale sticky notes all throughout it marking Avery’s favorite parts.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, rudely snatching it away from him to see the cover. It wasn't the same one I had in my bag. Not that I really thought he was a thief or anything...
“One of your friends leant it to me when I told her I needed it for research,” he said.
I lifted my head to meet his heavy-lidded stare. Man, his eyes were so pretty.
Boys shouldn’t have such pretty eyes. It was wasted on him, just like those long lashes. He already had the sharp jawline and the sculpted features, the perfect lean body and the ridiculously sexy grin. Did he really need the pretty baby blues too?
I thought not.
Life was so unfair sometimes.
My gaze moved from those pretty eyes to the magazine, which sported a bikini-clad reality TV star I vaguely recognized and a headline promising to teach me how to lose ten pounds before swimsuit season. “You needed this for research,” I repeated. Without even meaning to, my eyes moved over his perfect chest and his sculpted arms. “You need to lose ten pounds by summer, do you?”
His grin was sudden and breathtaking.
Like, literally. My breath left me in a whoosh at the sight of that thing.
He slid the magazine out from beneath my fingers gently and flipped it back open to one of the marked pages. “I meant for your research,” he said. “I figured I should see what sort of nonsense you’re reading if I’m going to help you with this ridiculous plan.”
“It’s not a ridiculous plan.” I said it more out of reflex than because I believed it. When his gaze met mine, I relented easily. “Okay, fine. Maybe it’s a little ridiculous.”
I was rewarded with another grin. “You seem too smart for something like this,” he said, holding up the magazine. “Actually, I know you’re too smart. You’re in all those AP classes and I have a hunch that you’re getting straight A’s in this history class. Am I right?”
“When you’re right, you’re right—and you? You’re always right!” The Spaceballs quote just...slipped out. I clamped my mouth shut. Gah, I really hated myself sometimes.
He stared at me with a blank expression. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I pressed my lips together as I nodded, a little afraid of what new stupidity might come tumbling out if I opened my mouth. Like I’d said, my tendency to quote movies and do terrible impersonations grew exponentially worse when I was nervous, and right now…
Well, Andrew didn’t make me nervous, exactly, just…
Yeah, okay, he made me nervous.
I bit my lip as I studied this perfect male specimen. Maybe it wasn’t nerves, I just didn’t know what to call it. He made me hyper aware of myself. I was absurdly self-conscious and fully aware that absolutely nothing escaped his notice, even though he excelled at looking so laid back one might think he wasn’t paying attention at all.
He was. And right now I was extremely aware of his attention.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said, my tone more peevish than I’d intended.
His lips curved up in a mocking little smirk. “Like what?”
“Like you’re judging me for...this.” I waved a hand toward the magazine.
“I’m not judging. Although, for the record...you yourself just admitted it was ridiculous.”
I cleared my throat and licked my lips as I straightened and turned so I was facing him fully. “Yes, well, ridiculous or not, this is the only way I know how to learn. Not all of us were born knowing how to be…” I waved a hand toward him again. “Sexy.”
His smile widened. “You think I’m sexy, huh?”
Ugh. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? “That’s not the point.”
He tilted his head to the side like he was considering me. “No. It’s not. Th
e point is that you don’t need any of this.” He shoved the magazine at me.
“Then, pray tell, what do I need?” I crossed my arms as I said it, my tone as haughty as I could make it. But really...I was kind of dying to know the answer, and I was pretty sure he knew it.
I had this horrible...hope, I guess you could call it, that he would hit me with some crazy Zen wisdom. He had that air about him with his constant calm and his focus on the field.
Okay, fine, I’d never actually watched him play baseball but I could imagine those pretty eyes narrowed, I could perfectly envision his intensity and the way his muscles would flex as he tensed on the mound...
I sat back in my seat and took a deep inhale. Was it getting hot in here or was it just me?
Andrew looked cool as ever.
So...just me then. I resisted the temptation to reach for the magazine and use it as a fan. “Well?” I prompted. “What do I need?”
“Confidence.”
My insides deflated. I didn’t know why I’d thought this guy might have something more useful to tell me than my father or Jax, but that was exactly the kind of thing they’d say. My dad would tell me the boys were just intimidated by me—he’d been saying stupid crap like that since I was in grade school. And Jax would just say I had to act like I was hot. He was all into the fake it ‘til you make it mentality.
Rose would probably say the same.
The only people who wouldn’t feed me that line about how it’s all about how much you love yourself and blah blah blah were the girls. Because they got it. Not all of us were born with the face of a supermodel like Rose. Not all of us could walk through life like we were too cool for school like Jax.
And not all of us could lean back and look all cool and calm and confident all the time like this guy right here. Because some of us cared. Some of us wanted to be liked. We wanted to have someone find us pretty. We wanted people to see us rather than treat us like we were invisible.
Was that so wrong?
I’d gone and worked myself into a self-righteous pissed off state but I hadn’t realized it was so obvious until Andrew gave me that amused little smirk. “Something wrong with my advice?”
I thought about denying it. Ending this conversation once and for all. Tell him I didn’t need his help…
But I did.
Clearly.
“I thought you were going to say something wise and...useful,” I said.
“Like what?” He was laughing at me again.
Wonderful.
“I don’t know,” I huffed. “Something.”
“What if I rephrase?” he asked, his pretty eyes dancing with laughter as he leaned toward me. “If you build it, they will come.”
I let out a choked little laugh. “Of course you’re a Field of Dreams fan.”
He grinned as he shrugged. “I’m a baseball fan. I love all movies about the sport.”
I had questions about that. Lots of questions. I was dying to know more about his taste in movies because my father had raised me to believe that you could tell everything about a person by their taste in films, books, and athletic teams—in that order.
“I like baseball movies, too,” I said. Really, I liked all kinds of movies, sports included. “But after watching all those baseball movies, the best motivational speech you can give is to tell me I need confidence?”
He laughed softly, that low chuckle that I was starting to love to a weird degree. It was a nice laugh. Kind, even when he was laughing at me. This guy might have been hot, and he might have been in demand with every girl in this school, but at heart he was a genuinely nice guy.
I wonder if the popular girls who went to parties with him and drooled over him knew he was nice or if they just saw the six-pack that his thin T-shirts didn’t quite disguise.
“Do you want my help or not?” he asked.
I wanted to say ‘not.’ I mean, even considering asking him to help me any further than he already had just felt pathetic.
But then again...I needed help.
I looked down at the magazine.
I just didn’t know where to find it.
“I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “You just need confidence. You’re a pretty girl, Simone--”
He said a few more words but they got lost in the rush of blood that went to my head and made the world seem to tilt haphazardly.
You’re a pretty girl, Simone.
Even if he was just being nice, I knew without a doubt I’d be hearing his voice in my head saying those five words until the day I died.
“...and you’re smart. But most of all you’re interesting.”
I blinked at the sincerity in his tone. “Interesting, huh?”
One side of his mouth hitched up higher than the other. “Yeah, interesting.”
I tilted my head to the side as I studied him. “Is that just another way of saying weird?”
He let out one of those low, soft chuckles that was more of a vibration than a sound. I had this crazy urge to press my cheek to his chest to see what it felt like when he laughed.
Weird. Me. Yes.
Before he could confirm that fact, I hurried on. “Anyways, why are you so interested in helping me?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I was actually hoping we could help each other.”
“Oh yeah?” Was that wariness in my tone. You betcha. I should have known he was being too nice. No one was this nice without wanting something in return. “How can I help you?”
I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe help studying or...I don’t know...a sobriety budy for AA meetings. Have I mentioned I’d seen a lot of movies? My mind didn’t always leap to the most logical conclusions. But even with my wild imagination, I did not see this one coming.
“You can hang out with me.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
He gave a huff of laughter at my shock, not even a little awkward about the fact that he was asking me to…what, exactly? “Hang out with you? What does that mean?”
He arched his brows and pointed to me. “You. Me. Hang.”
“Thanks, that really clears things up,” I said. “I guess a better question is...why?”
He shrugged. “I’m bored.”
I stared at him to see if he was being serious.
He was.
Once again, I had questions. So many questions. But before I could ask a single one, the bell rang and he was pushing his chair away. “When do you see this guy of yours next?” he asked.
“Um…outside of band practice?”
He nodded as if that was a given.
“They’re playing a gig at a club this weekend and everyone will be hanging out afterward,” I said.
This time I promised myself that I wouldn’t leave without at least attempting to talk to Tony.
“Then we don’t have much time to waste,” he said. “I’ll be by tonight.”
I stared up at him. “Ummm….”
What was happening here?
He laughed and shook his head as he reached for my phone which had been tucked under my notebook. “Not even a movie quote, huh?” He held my phone up to my face so facial recognition would unlock it and then he was tapping away on my phone like it was the most normal thing in the world to be exchanging numbers.
“Text me your address,” he said, picking up the magazine from the table and thrusting it into my arms. “And study up. I can’t wait to be the recipient of some of these ‘flirting techniques’.”
He used air quotes when he said ‘flirting techniques’ and that made me laugh…
And then he was gone. There one minute and gone the next.
Like some sort of sexy superhero.
I found myself standing there for a full minute as my heart resumed a normal pace and I was left with just one question that sounded way too loud in the silence of the library. “What on earth is going on here?”
9
Andrew
* * *
“Where are you going
tonight, Andy?” my mom asked as I headed out the door.
“Studying with a friend,” I said.
Her response was to full-on beam at me. Her face was glowing with the force of her smile. “A friend?”
Ugh. Here we go. “Don’t get too excited, Ma,” I said. “We just have some classes together.”
She pressed her lips together but the resulting smile was beyond patronizing. “That’s so sweet.”
Sweet. Ugh.
Well, at least she hadn’t asked if it was a girl—
“Is this a girlfriend?” Her hope was almost too much to bear. It seemed to bother my mom more than anyone else that I hadn’t made any good friends since we’d moved, let alone had a serious girlfriend.
I didn’t care—I had plenty of buddies on the team and in the hallways, and girls? I’d never had an issue there either. No girlfriends, maybe, but I wasn’t here to make deep and meaningful connections, just get through high school and into college.
And then…?
I shook off the nagging voice that wondered what life would look like when I was done with the obvious—baseball, high school, and college. I’d long since realized those questions didn’t even bear considering. Who knew what life would throw at me before then?
“See ya, Ma,” I said, already closing the door behind me without bothering to answer.
It was for her own good. I didn’t want to give her false hope. I might have developed a soft spot for Simone, but it didn’t mean anything. I just didn’t like seeing a good girl get hurt.
She might not have been my responsibility, but what kind of guy would I have been if I sat back and let a naive, sheltered young thing get used up and spit out by a notorious player?
Not the kind of guy my father would have been proud of, that was for sure.
I was just doing the right thing, that was all.
I told myself that as I drove to her house, and again as I knocked on her door.
“You must be Andrew.” An older man who must have been her father answered the door and gestured for me to enter. Judging by the big grin on his face, he was as pleased to see me as my mother was to learn I was going over to a friend’s.
Striking Out With The Star Pitcher: How to catch a crush #1 Page 6