The Lineup

by Quinn, Meghan

  “So why the change of heart?”

  I bite my bottom lip, contemplating if I should tell him about the Carltons, and the stupid things I said to them to save a deal. The truth is on the tip of my tongue, but then again, I really don’t want to ruin the night. It wasn’t really the Carltons that changed my mind. Yes, they gave me the push to pursue him, but it was his personality I couldn’t stay away from.

  “You wore me down,” I answer, giving him the half-truth. “Your kind gestures, your apology to me after I lost it on you during the night of the broken enchiladas. You apologized to me when it should have been the other way around. You’ve been patient and kind with my mood swings. You don’t ever complain about my working late, but rather understand the hustle it takes to make something of yourself. Yes, your fun and outgoing attitude might have resembled those other men, but your character, your personality, your heart, they seem to be one of a kind. Plus”—I smile wickedly—“if you ever tried to screw me over, I know Knox would have a word with you.”

  “Yeah, he would have more than a word with me. By the way, have you told Emory about this?”

  “No.”

  “Well, she probably knows.”

  “Why?” I ask, staring him down.

  “You see, I might have gone to Knox for advice on how to handle you.”

  “How to handle me?” I ask, feeling slightly like a piece of meat.

  He pacifies me with a pat to my hand. “Before you get in a tizzy, please consider what you just said, how you were hot and cold and weren’t sure if you wanted to date me. I got that sense too, and I needed advice. Knox knows you better than Carson, so I leaned on him. He told me to take things slow and be cautious. Given his advice, I’d assume he told Emory about us.”

  “He’s a gossip and thrives off it. Of course, he told Emory, which only means one thing . . . Lindsay and Emory are probably talking about us as well.” Although, their radio silence is totally . . . not them. Hmm.

  “Wow, isn’t that special? So many people talking about the beautiful connection we have. Touches your heart, doesn’t it?”

  “Is that how this is going to be? Me being negative and you putting your Jason spin on it?”

  “Doesn’t have to be. I can be grouchy too, especially when I have to buy toilet paper.”

  “What?” I laugh. “Why does that make you grouchy?”

  “Because there should be an endless supply coming from my wall. It’s a life necessity and when it’s not available to me, I get upset.”

  “I guess that’s valid. Let me know when you run out of toilet paper so I can be positive that day.”

  “That’s a fair deal.”

  * * *

  “I have some important questions to ask you,” Jason says while we wait for our dessert. We ordered the molten chocolate lava cake. Jason’s eyes lit up when he saw it on the menu, and I couldn’t help thinking how adorable he was, getting excited over a chocolate dessert. He admitted once we ordered that other than ice cream, chocolate is one of his favorite things to indulge in. Any kind of chocolate. Doesn’t matter how it comes to him, as long as there’s chocolate in it, he’ll eat it.

  “Should I be scared?”

  “I think you should get ready for quite an inquiry, but they’re necessary questions that must be answered if I want to ask you out on a second date.”

  “What if I don’t want to go on a second date?”

  “Hmm.” He taps his chin with his fork, ready to dig in the minute the plate arrives at our table. “That’s a good point. All right. If the question arose, would you go on a second date with me?”

  “Well, now I feel pressured to say yes just so I can hear the inquiry.”

  “You’re going to have to deal with the pressure, sweet cheeks.”

  “Fine. Hypothetically, if you were to ask me out on a second date, I would hypothetically, possibly say yes.”

  “Great.” He bops his own nose with his fork and then sets it down on the table. “Here goes.” He looks serious; both his hands rest palm down on the table and his shoulders stiffen. Looking me dead in the eyes, he asks, “Bobbies and Rebels are in the World Series, what shirt do you wear?”

  “Bobbies obviously.”

  He blinks. Sits back. “What?”

  “Bobbies for life.”

  “But I’m on the Rebels.”

  “Yes, but are we dating, are we married? Are we just fooling around? There’s going to have to be a huge commitment on my part in order to put a Rebels shirt on. Sorry.”

  “We’re dating.”

  “Eh.” I wave my hand.

  “Fine. We’re living together.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” I twist a strand of hair in my finger.

  “Christ, we’re married.”

  “Ugh.” I wince. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think it will ever happen.”

  “Not even if we’re married, for fuck’s sake?” he asks, dumbfounded. It’s endearing, especially since he’s pushing his hand through his hair in distress, tousling it.

  “Do we have kids?” I ask.

  “Six.”

  “Six?” Now it’s time for my eyes to pop out of their sockets. “Do you really think I want to birth six children?”

  “Hell, no.” He shakes his head. “We adopted six kids from all around the world. We’re going to have the most diverse and loving family you’ll ever see.”

  Adopting six kids, now that’s incredibly sweet. Or mad? No, it’s sweet. In fact, it’s extremely rare to meet a man who not only knows he wants to adopt kids, but is willing to look outside of the US, knowing how much he could offer that child. Good God, this man is a unicorn.

  “We have the means for it, after all,” he says, continuing. “You’re taking over the city of Chicago, and I’ll be raining home runs on every opposing team. We would be the power couple, the new king and queen of the city. Excuse me, Oprah and Steadman, a new, hip couple is in town. People would wear our faces on their shirts like the royals in England. We’re the next Kate and William, the next Meghan and Harry. People will scream our name and then faint, only for us to give them mouth-to-mouth because even though we’re super famous, we are also humanitarians.”

  “Wow.” I sit back in my chair. “That’s quite the picture you paint.” I know what my mom will say about him already. Don’t lose him, Dorothy. He’s gold. Gorgeous and selfless.

  “So . . . with all that said, our six children at your side, would you wear a Rebels shirt?”

  I take some time to think about it, mulling over the idea of switching to black and red as my team colors. Could I do it?

  With the way Jason is smiling at me, hope in his eyes, how could I ever deny him that joy—and I say that as if we’ve been married for ten years.

  “I would wear halfsies. Half Bobbies, half Rebels, and that’s the best I can do.”

  He lifts his finger to the sky. “I’ll take it.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean you’ve never been on a roller coaster?”

  “Just never have been,” I say, my hand looped through his as we walk through the park across from his apartment building. The night is chilly but Jason didn’t want to head up to our apartments just yet, therefore I’m one of the luckiest girls alive as I’m wearing Jason’s blazer.

  Not only does it smell like heaven—like him—but its silk lining feels magnificent on my bare skin and it’s warm, just like him.

  Even though he’s standing next to me, guiding me through the park, it still feels like by wearing his jacket, he’s holding me. Not sure he’s going to be able to get this back from me.

  “But you grew up in Southern California, near Six Flags. You never visited the theme park?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Never went to Knott’s Berry Farm either.”

  “Disneyland?” he asks, truly concerned.

  “Obviously I went to Disneyland, but they don’t really have roller coasters there, just mini ones, nothing like a drop that will make your stom
ach pop into your throat.”

  “True, okay. Well, we need to rectify this.”

  “What?” I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I’m good with never going on one.”

  “Nope, it’s official, our second date will be at Six Flags Great America. We have to go during the week though, when everyone is in school. This Thursday, what do you say?”

  “Are you insane? We are not—”

  Jason stops us and spins me toward him where he grips my chin lightly and says, “Play hooky with me, Dottie. It will be fun. I won’t even go for a run that morning. We can get up early, grab some donuts from Frankie Donuts, and then head over.”

  It’s tempting, oh boy, it’s tempting, but I have a huge meeting to prepare for that’s taking place on Friday. I think about it for a second. If I spend the rest of this week focusing on the meeting and work Thursday night when we’re done being kids, I could possibly fit it in . . .

  “If you think about it, if we dated in college, going to Six Flags is something we totally would have done. But since you never came up to me, never made a move, we were deprived of that entertainment. Now we have to make up for lost time.”

  “Oh, you’re really reaching now.”

  He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “Please, Dottie. Come scream your head off with me and eat tons and tons of junk food.”

  “When you put it like that, how could I possibly say no?”

  “That a girl.” He hooks his arm around my shoulder and kisses the side of my head. “Thursday it is. Should we wear matching shirts? Something that says, ‘I’m with her. I’m with him’ with arrows? Or we could wear shirts that say Future Mrs. and Mr.”

  “Now you’re getting ahead of yourself. Matching shirts aren’t necessary.”

  From the corner of my eye, I can see him bite down on his bottom lip, thinking, processing. “The more I put some thought into it, the more I truly believe we need matching shirts. Think of the endless photo opportunities.”

  “If you want me to skip work and go to Six Flags with you, we are not wearing matching shirts.”

  “That’s what you think,” he says with a smile.

  Why do I feel like come Thursday, I’ll be wearing the same damn shirt as Jason? Probably because it feels next to impossible to say no to this man, even when I’m trying to put my foot down. And yet somehow, I don’t feel I’m losing control here. It feels . . . safe to allow him to take the lead. Occasionally. I won’t let him get too used to it.

  * * *

  The elevator doors open and Jason unwraps his arms from around my waist. The entire ride up, he held me, my back to his chest. It was sweet and romantic, especially when he whispered in my ear how great I smell and how he loves my hair down.

  Hand in hand, we walk down the hallway to our respective apartments and then stop at our doors. I shrug out of his jacket and hand it to him. He opens his apartment, tosses the jacket inside, and then turns back to me.

  Sighing, he pushes a strand of hair out of my face. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

  I smile shyly, knowing his compliment is genuine, straight from the heart.

  “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for asking me out.”

  “Was it everything you dreamed of?”

  “Well, not everything,” I say, licking my lips and letting him get the hint.

  “Ah, I see what you’re looking for, that kiss you denied me earlier. But I don’t know now. I think I might want to save it.”

  Of course, he’d say that. I shouldn’t expect anything less from him at this point.

  So I shrug my shoulders and say, “Your loss.”

  I barely have a chance to turn around before he pulls me into his chest and captures my mouth with his. Light at first, he nibbles, testing the area, before he deepens the kiss, tightening his grip on my cheek while his other hand falls to the small of my back, pressing me into his hard body.

  Desperation races through my veins as I light up from the inside out. I grip the back of his neck and pull myself closer, reaching up on my tiptoes to gain the best access possible. I open my mouth and swipe my tongue across his, pulling a groan deep from the pit of his chest.

  Our breaths mix together, our limbs tangle, and our lips perform a seductive dance as we make out in the hallway.

  He tastes so good, like cotton candy.

  He feels like stone beneath my fingertips, strong and sturdy.

  And the sounds he’s making, the groans into my mouth, it’s my undoing. I wrap a foot around his leg and pull him closer, needing more, wanting more, ready to disrobe right here, right now.

  But before I can reach back for the zipper of my dress, Jason is separating us, putting much unwanted distance between us.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  He swipes his mouth, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he stares at me. “Fuck,” he mutters, taking another step back. “Get in your apartment right now, Dottie.”

  “No, I don’t want to. I want to make out some more. I want to—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence. We are done here. The date is over. Our date will not continue into extracurricular activities.”

  “Why the hell not?” I ask, hands on my hips.

  “Because, after what you told me at dinner, how other men have taken from you, used you, I want you to be absolutely convinced that it’s you I want. Make me prove myself to you, Dottie, because you deserve that. You deserve for this to be right.” He lifts my hand, kisses the back of it, and then pushes through his apartment door. “Good night, sweet cheeks. Thanks for an amazing night.”

  I pout because . . . abs. I wanted to feel his abs. “You’re making me sad.”

  “You will appreciate it in the morning, when you wake up wanting me even more.” He winks and then shuts the door to his apartment, leaving me wanting him already.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JASON

  “Welcome home, you beautiful, beautiful man,” I shout, pressing a kiss directly on Knox’s lips, who then in return punches me in the gut—well, barely punches me because I’ve gotten smart now and move away before he can make direct contact.

  “What the fuck did I tell you about doing that?” Knox says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Emory laughs next to him and like one big happy family, we all enter their apartment.

  I’ve been waiting all afternoon for these guys to return. Not only do I want to hear about their trip, but I need to tell them about the most recent development in my life.

  I need to show them how there are floating hearts orbiting my head.

  I need to gush and gab about the romance that’s taken over every thought of my day.

  Heart eyes.

  Cupid arrow in my butt.

  Call me a goner, because I’m in like.

  Yes, like, not love quite yet, but I can see myself getting there.

  The excitement is bursting out of me and before they can set their bags down and get settled, I let it out. “I’m going to be a father,” I say, spreading my arms wide, chest heaving, eyes wildly open like saucers.

  Knox pauses and spins toward me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He gives me the lowered brows consternation look. It’s pretty impressive really. “Please for the love of God tell me you didn’t get some random girl knocked up.”

  “What? No. Why would you think that?”

  With confusion in her brow, Emory says, “Because you said you’re going to be a father.”

  “Yeah, someday.” I walk over to their kitchen and pick an apple from their fruit bowl. I take a bite and lean against the counter. “How was your trip?”

  Knox shakes his head, confusion clear in his eyes. “No, explain to us what the fuck you’re talking about. What do you mean you’re going to be a father? Is this one of those things where you think you’re going to help parent our baby? Where you turn this into a sitcom in your head? Two men, a lady, and a baby?”

  “No, but fuck, I’d watch that show so
hard.” I tap my wrist where a watch would be. “Come on, Netflix, let’s get a move on it.” I take another bite of my apple. “So . . . come on, what did your parents say?”

  Emory takes a step forward, placing her hand on my forearm. “Jason, are you okay? You seem a little crazed.”

  “Crazed? I’m not crazed. I’m just . . .” God, I can’t hold it in any further. “I’m in like!” I shout right before taking another bite of my apple. “I’m in like and I want everyone to know about it. This is only the beginning. Next, I’m going to be a father. Can you see it, little Orson babies running around, all from different countries, all proud to have a dad with the finest ass in baseball?”

  Emory and Knox both stare at me, blankly, unmoving.

  I snap my finger at them. “Are you two okay?”

  “Are you okay?” Knox asks. “Dude, you’re fucking losing it. What the hell are you talking about? Does this have to do with Dottie?”

  “Ohhh.” Emory nods her head. “That makes sense. Uh, did something happen between you two?” She clasps her hands together.

  “Oh, something happened. We had a date last night and it was fantastic. She’s so cool and smart and then at the drop of a hat, her asshole closes up and she becomes the most uptight person I’ve ever seen. I love it.”

  “You love how she’s uptight?” Knox asks.

  “Oh yeah, gets me hot. Love seeing her in a tizzy. Or when she sticks her nose in the air, when something I say is completely beneath her . . . makes me want to say it all over again.”

  “Seems like Dottie’s worst nightmare,” Knox says, walking to the kitchen and filling two cups of water for him and Emory.

  “Oh yeah, I’m pretty sure there are times where her fist itches to give me a fat lip with some of my antics, but then I just flash her my winning smile and all is forgiven.”

  “I doubt that’s the case,” Knox mumbles and takes Emory by the hand to sit on the couch. I follow closely behind. “Are you two dating now?”

  “Yup,” I say with finality. “We’re a couple, so I’m sorry to inform you but your title of cutest couple is about to be stolen.”