I say my peace and wait for some type of reaction. A slow smile starts to form and lights up her eyes and then she laughs, breaking any tension I’m feeling. My left hand starts to twitch so I slide it under my leg to keep her from seeing it. I pick at my food, waiting for her to say something, anything.
“I’ll have breakfast with you, but I’m not going back to your place.”
“Fair enough, we can go to yours.” I wink and get a fry in my face. She covers her mouth as she laughs and I want to reach over the table and pull her hand away. I want to see all of her face when she laughs. I want to hold her hand and see if I feel the same radiation of heat I did earlier.
“I can meet you someplace,” she says before slipping a fry between her lips. I try not to gawk, but it’s no use. Now that I have her up close, staring is the only thing I want to do.
“Or we can stay up all night and talk.”
“You have a game tomorrow. You need your sleep.” It’s in this moment that I’ve probably fallen in love with her and don’t even know it. The fact that she has so much concern for my well-being means so much to me.
“How long have you been a fan of baseball?” I reach across our small table and take one of her fries. She eyes me skeptically. I can’t tell if she’s about to slap me, or shove the rest of her fries into my face. Either way, I’ll take whatever she wants to dish out, because both actions constitute emotion and that would mean I’m getting to her.
“Still hungry?”
I want to respond with ‘duh’ but that seems very childish and inappropriate. I pull my hand back and wipe my fingers on my napkin. “Sorry,” I say and offer a sheepish shrug. “I’m used to finishing my niece’s food.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s three.”
“Does she live here?” Daisy pushes the rest of her fries toward me. She’s a woman after my own heart. Of course I dig right in and avoid the question. I hold my finger up while I chew and try to swallow without choking myself.
“She lives in Seattle with my sister and my parents.”
“Where’s her dad?”
I suck down the rest of my soda and fight the urge to burp. That would not make a very good first impression and I’m really trying to impress this girl. I should’ve paid more attention last year, but I was too wrapped up in being a rookie and being so stupid that I didn’t notice people around me.
“He’s in the Army. Right now he’s deployed, which is why my sister and niece live with my parents. My mom can help out while my sister works.”
“I bet you’re excited to go home?”
I nod and pull out my phone - not only to show her a picture, but also to count the days until we’re in Seattle to play. My notifications are crazy. I have a few texts from my dad and even more from Jasper Jacobson, our catcher and my closest friend on the team. I also have message from Cooper Bailey, who plays for our Triple A club, and Sarah. I clear the screen and bring up my photos, handing my phone over to Daisy. My hand starts to shake and before I can pull my phone away, Daisy is holding it still so she can see my blonde hair, blue-eyed niece with a dirty face, grinning from ear to ear.
“What’s her name?”
“Shea.” I cock my eyebrow as her expression changes and there’s a hint of recognition. I like that the name means something to her, which reminds me that she’s dodged my question about being a fan.
“As in the ballpark?”
I nod and pull my phone toward me. “We’re a huge baseball family. I was happy she was a girl because my brother-in-law wanted to name her Catfish and I think my sister would’ve killed him.”
“Shea’s a pretty name for a pretty baby.”
“Yep, twenty-five days and I’ll get to see her.” I try not to sound nostalgic. I miss my family and it can be lonely out here without them. I think that is what gets most of us in trouble. The nights like tonight when we’ve lost and we’re wallowing. If I hadn’t asked the usher to get Daisy, I’d be either at the bar drinking away my sorrows, or picking up some chick for a night of fun.
“So back to my question – how long have you been a baseball fan?”
“Hmm… all my life I guess. My grandpa loves the game and loves the Renegades. I grew up watching every game either on TV or in the park.”
“You have amazing seats even if they are behind the enemy.”
Daisy laughs. “Well, my grandfather is very vocal and always felt he could scare the other team back into the clubhouse with his mouth.” She speaks about her grandfather with pride and a lot of admiration. I know I just met her tonight, but I can tell that she’s definitely a grandpa’s girl. It hasn’t escaped my attention that she hasn’t mentioned her parents or any siblings.
“How come he doesn’t come with you?” I lay the question out there and am met with silence. She looks at her wrist, which I notice is void of a watch or bracelet, before reaching for her bag.
“I should go. It’s late.” She stands, avoiding my question, and slips her bag over her shoulder. I want to kick myself for seemingly crossing the line when all I was trying to do was get to know her a bit better.
“Wait,” I say as I stand and reach for her. There’s an awkward silence and stare down, until I drop my hand to my side. “I know it’s late, so let me walk you.” Even though the station is right outside the door, I’d feel better walking her to the train and making sure she gets on. Honestly, I really want to drive her home or just take her back to my place since we’re supposed to have breakfast.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t. I want to.” I come to her side and set my hand gently on her back. My touch is feather light for fear that I’ll scare her.
The cold wind is brutal against my bare arms and I’m thankful I’m close to the stadium so that I can run back in and grab my stuff. Daisy shivers, folding her arms over one another and rubbing her hands up and down to create fiction.
“I can’t let you freeze.” I grab her hand and pull her down the street. Just holding her hand is warming me, and it’s starting to freak me out. I’m not into that weird voodoo shit, but I’m starting to think she’s a witch or something with the way my body reacts when I touch her.
“I’ll be fine.” Her protests fall on deaf ears as I reach the players’ door and enter my code. We’re technically allowed to come and go as we please, but they really prefer us not to return after a game. Luckily for me, or for us, the cleaning and grounds crew are still here.
I take Daisy down the hall and into the clubhouse. The lights are still on, and it stinks like sweat and other shit. I walk to my locker and grab the stuff I need. When I turn around, Daisy is lost in her own world. She’s running her fingers along the lockers, our nameplates, and over the plaques we have hanging up. Some of the greats have their names engraved there; reminding us of everything they’d accomplished and built before we were even a thought in our parents’ minds.
“When the usher came and got me, I thought I was in trouble. He told me that you wanted to meet me, and I didn’t believe him at first, but when you showed up, I thought ‘wow, he’s true to his word’. Then you asked me to dinner, which I had to pay for,” she pauses and winks at me, “and I had a good time, but being in here… I’ve always dreamed of walking into the clubhouse on game day and wondered what it was like.”
“Well, it doesn’t smell like this, that’s for sure.” I run my hand through my hair and grimace because it stinks like something died in here. She laughs and shakes her head. Daisy walks over and stands in front of me. I’ve never really been attracted to girls who are much shorter than me because of the whole having to bend down to kiss them thing, but there’s something special about Daisy. I’m not sure what that something is yet, but I’m hoping to find out.
“Thanks for bringing me here.”
In this moment, I wish I’ve known her longer than a couple of hours, or we were hammered, because I’d really like to kiss her. Instead, I say, “You’re welcome.” Except it
comes out as a whisper, and suddenly the room is a sauna and she’s licking her lips and I’m licking mine. We both step together at the same time, our chests matching a rhythmic breathing pattern. Our heads tilt in opposite directions lining us up perfectly. One of us needs to close the gap and I want it to be her...there’s something sexy about a woman who makes the first move, who goes after what she wants. I want Daisy to press what I’m assuming will be the softest set of lips I’ve ever encountered against mine. I want to feel the wetness of her tongue coat my lips, asking for me to meet her half way in what’s surely going to be an explosive first kiss.
“Don’t forget to tell her about your pecker fungus, Davenport.”
We both jump back and I’m muttering ‘mother fucker’ as she turns tomato red. If I didn’t embarrass her earlier, I have now.
“Fuck you, Kidd.” I pick up a piece of clothing and throw it at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing?” he waggles his eyebrows and looks at Daisy who has her eyes focused on the ground.
“We were just leaving.” I don’t want to get into why I’m back here because I’ll never hear the end of it. I grab my jacket and sweatshirt, and motion for Daisy to follow me out. She’s right on my heels, bumping into me when I stop to turn around.
I catch her in my arms as she falls into my chest, using the situation to my advantage so I can feel her against me. It’s a dirty trick, but I never said I played clean. She’s the first one to pull away, adjusting her hat as she does.
“Here,” I say, handing her my sweatshirt. “I’ve kept you out late and I don’t want you to freeze because of me.” It’s going to be huge on her, but seeing her wearing something with my name on it will be worth it.
Daisy takes off her hat and tries to hide her messy hair. “It’s okay. My hair looks crazy when I take my hat off.”
She squints and sort of shakes her head. I guess I wasn’t supposed to say anything about how her hair looks. How the hell am I supposed to know that? My mother raised me to be honest and say what’s on my mind. I guess this is one of those times when media training will come in handy.
As soon as she pulls my sweatshirt over her head, I’m eyeing her backside. I’m not looking at her ass, but at my name and number spread across her back. There’s no bigger rush for an athlete than seeing your name on the back of someone you like. This is a player issued sweatshirt and not available for our fans to buy. The minute she walks out of here people are going to assume she’s my girlfriend. Panic should set in. My palms should be itching and my heart racing at the thought of being labeled with a girlfriend, except none of those things happen.
Instead, I picture her in my jersey and nothing else, with her long hair free from any binding ties and her bare feet walking across my hardwood floors. The warmth of the afternoon sun beams through my window as she kneels on my black leather couch next to me. She’s the only woman I can imagine in my place and while that thought should scare the shit out of me, it doesn’t.
There’s a devil sitting on my shoulder whispering into my ear. He’s telling me that I need to do everything in my power to get Daisy back to my place. The angel on the other side is telling me to walk her home, or as far as she’ll let me, and get her number. The devil is telling me to bang the shit out of her and I like that idea, except I have a feeling that once I have a taste, I’m going to be a greedy bastard and want more. And something tells me that waiting for her might be worth it.
“You look really sex… cute in my sweatshirt.” I pull on the side a little; it’s bulky and I don’t even come close to touching her, but it makes me feel connected. Her eyes go from me to the shirt and back to me. The black fabric against her blonde hair and green eyes makes her pale skin stand out.
“I really should go.”
I nod, agreeing with her even though I don’t want this night to be over. I wish tomorrow were an off day; we could spend all night talking, or just keeping each other company. Taking her hand in mine, I realize how small hers is in comparison to mine. I hold them up together, examining them, before I drop our arms to our sides and start down the hall. Walking with her like this feels as natural as baseball does – only baseball doesn’t make me horny and she’s definitely causing a reaction in my nether region.
Well… well… well… it seems Mr. Davenport has found himself a “friend”. There will be more on that in a minute.
Today’s loss hurt, especially after Davenport set a two-run shot into the bleachers. Renegade fans thought for sure that after Saturday’s loss, we wouldn’t see our guys drop back-to-back L’s.
The Orioles, on the other hand, shelled starting pitcher, Max Tadashi, bringing in early relief, who didn’t fare much better.
Steve Bainbridge looks like the rumors of his impending retirement or trade are starting to get to him as he looked stiff and out of sorts, committing two errors on the night.
The Renegades are home Monday night with Hank Sinclair taking the mound. The fans hope to see a better showing than the previous night.
GOSSIP WIRE:
This year is shaping up to be entertaining and this section might become my favorite part! I, the BoRe Blogger, often receive tips about the players. Some pan out to be juicy details and others fizzle. Last night’s tweet from a patron at the Tasty Burger, in particular, turned out to be a gem.
Yesterday during the game, fans were shocked and some elated to watch Davenport openly flirt with a Renegade fan. I suppose we should be happy that she is a fan of our beloved Boston team and not the Yankees where our wonderful General Manager, Ryan Stone, joined us from. Davenport gave this fan the first foul ball of the game – is there a significance? I’m not sure.
What I am sure about is this: Davenport asked an usher to retrieve the fan and have her meet him somewhere… the wives club maybe? From there we know, thanks to the Tasty Burger’s customer, that they went to dinner. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking Ethan Davenport can afford someplace better...but that’s just me.
I, of course, asked Davenport for a comment, but all I got was, “Call my agent.” My sources tell me that Davenport’s newest conquest left the stadium with him well after eleven wearing his team sweatshirt. Now if that doesn’t say “hook-up” or, at the very least, mean there’s some kind of romance going on...I don’t know what does.
The BoRe Blogger
One thing I learned last night about Daisy is that she’s stubborn. When we arrived at the train station, I asked for her number. She actually balked until I reminded her that we were supposed to be having breakfast in the morning. When she tried to tell me breakfast wasn’t necessary, I told her she could either let me take her or I could make sure she gets every foul ball I catch so everyone could see her face on the Jumbo Tron. Once she realized that I wasn’t giving up, she finally relented and gave me her number.
Now I’m sitting outside the restaurant she chose, waiting for her to get here. We’re close to Boston University and it never occurred to me to find out what Daisy does. I guess I assumed she works but now that I think about it, I’ve seen her at afternoon games before. So unless she has a flexible work schedule, she’s most likely a student.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my notifications. My Twitter is going crazy with the new BoRe Blogger post that went live at five a.m. I’d really like to find this guy and pound his face into the bricks along the Freedom Trail. He doesn’t know jack shit about me, yet he runs his mouth behind the cloak of the internet, never showing his face or telling us his identity. In my book that’s a coward. The shit he wrote about last night makes my time with Daisy feel cheapened. If I didn’t think he’d misconstrue my words, I’d give him the interview he so desperately wants… all we need is a dark alley with no witnesses.
I spot Daisy walking down the street and take a moment to watch her. She’s focused on her phone and is wearing her ear buds, making herself completely oblivious to her surroundings. I have the sudden urge to yell at her and
show her how much danger she’s putting herself in right now, but also to protect her by making sure she’s being driven from her house to every single destination she needs to get to.
Thinking like that is only going to get me in trouble. I doubt Daisy wants me as a knight in shining armor. Her shoulder bag is in the same spot as yesterday but this time she’s carrying another bag and I’m really hoping it’s not my sweatshirt. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want it back, that wants to see her in it again, but getting a fine for not having my uniform isn’t really my cup of tea.
When she’s closer, I get out of my SUV and wait for her at the rear of it. I rest against the back with my hands in my pockets. As she steps into the parking lot, she looks up. Even from this distance I can see her smile. I have no choice but to return one as well. It’s automatic whether I want to or not.
“Good morning,” I say, reaching out and moving a windblown piece of hair away from her face. I know I’ve caught her off guard when her lips part. Hell, I’ve caught myself off guard, but it feels good to touch her. I wish we had shared a kiss last night because the urge to kiss her now is at the forefront of my thoughts. I’d give anything to be able to cup her delicate face in my hands and to press my lips against hers.
Third Base (The Boys of Summer #1) Page 3