“I’ll be back,” I said to Mallory. Pushing off from the table, I stood and led Trish a few feet away. Far enough so Mallory wouldn’t have to hear this. “What do you really want, Trish?”
“I miss you,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts.
I raised my eyebrows. “And?”
Trish sighed and threw her head back. I knew this move. It was the “you’re too stupid to understand” move. I’d seen her use it on her mom and her friends. “And I miss talking to you, hanging out with you. I… Can’t we try this again? As friends?”
“Are you shitting me?” was the first thing that popped into my head and out of my mouth.
“No, I’m not shitting you.” She rolled her eyes.
I ignored the jab but not the reason she wanted to talk. “Look, Trish, I can’t do this with you. We had a plan. You decided not to be a part of it anymore. I can’t just turn on a dime and let you back into my life when you don’t really want to be there.”
“You were my best friend, Aaron. And I thought you loved me,” she whined.
“I did. Once,” I said, shaking my head.
“But not anymore?” Tears welled in her eyes.
“No, not anymore.” I knew it hurt to hear that. But she needed to. Just like I needed to say it. I wanted to comfort her. A great deal of my high school life had revolved around her. She’d always be part of me in a way. Even if it was only as a memory.
Trish nodded, and the sweet innocence disappeared. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, but she didn’t say anything. She moved back to the table and leaned over Mallory, whispering loud enough that I could hear her. “I taught him everything he knows. Remember that the next time you’re lying in his bed. I was there first.” Trish eyed Mallory up and down then smirked. “Every time he’s fucking you, he’ll be thinking about me.”
I reached out to put an end to this, but Mallory beat me to the punch. Well, actually the slap. Her palm on Trish’s cheek echoed throughout the lounge.
“Get away from me,” Mallory said, the anger and confusion clear in her voice. “And stay away from Aaron. He deserves better than you.”
Trish rubbed her hand over her reddened cheek. “Like you?”
“You should probably go. The football team needs their goalpost back,” Mallory snapped. She spun back into her seat and began eating the remains of her salad with new fervor.
The quiet in the lounge erupted into hooting from the baseball team. Mallory reached into her hair and pulled out the ponytail holder so her curls would hide her face. Trish’s skin turned the color of a new bruise as she backed away from us.
I didn’t know what the hell to do. So I sat down, facing Mallory. Her body shook, and I hated that Trish did this to her. Without really thinking, I reached out and brushed her hair from her eyes. As soon as my fingers touched the golden curls, I had to fight myself from sliding my hands deep into their softness. Who knew hair could feel like satin?
Ducking my head, I tried to catch her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She turned slightly. Instead of the tears I expected, she was laughing. Hard. I smiled and joined her.
“Goalpost?” I asked.
“Wide and open. All they have to do is punt,” Mallory said once she caught her breath.
Chuck sat down beside us, a grin covering his face. “That was the best damned thing I’ve seen in a while. Man, even Trent starting roaring.”
I glanced to the pool tables where Trent stood with a few of his buddies. They were all whooping. He raised his bottle of Coke in salute, and I nodded. Trish had dumped him for the quarterback after three weeks. She’d moved onto a noseguard not long after the quarterback.
“I’m Chuck,” he said to Mallory, offering her his massive hand.
“Mallory,” she responded, barely touching his fingers.
“Nice to meet you. Come over after you’re done. The game’s coming on soon. I’m sure Hailey and Candy would like someone else to talk to. Besides, the stakes are high on the game.”
Mallory turned to me with a grin. “Please tell me you didn’t bet on the Yankees.”
I held up my hands. “No way. Betting’s against NCAA regs. I’m not getting suspended over a technicality.”
“No danger, no fun, Betts.” Chuck turned his jackal grin toward Mallory. “No betting on teams and no betting money. Only on our picks for who the MVP will be, how long the series will go, who will hit the first home run. That kind of stuff.”
Mallory nodded. “It’ll go seven. The Yankees have some young starting pitchers, but the bullpen’s deep. The Cardinals have veteran starters but a weaker pen.”
Chuck raised his eyebrows at her. “Are you a betting lady?”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, matching his tone.
“If I win, you edit my research paper. If you win, I’ll make you the best dinner you’ve ever had.” Chuck smirked. “You game?”
Mallory tapped her chin and stared down Chuck. I waited to see which way she’d go. Chuck could cook, and he wouldn’t skimp on anything.
“I’m not doing your research paper,” Mallory said with a shake of her head.
Chuck snorted. “I’m the king of research. And at writing my own shit. I just suck at the technical shit like commas.”
“What’re you cooking?” Mallory asked.
“Whatever you want.”
She seemed to consider that a little longer before asking, “You’re sure you won’t get in trouble?”
“No money, no reason to get in trouble.” Chuck held his hands in front of him. “You in?”
“You’re on.”
“Then it’s settled.” Chuck slapped his hands on the table and pushed to his feet. “I could use a break on my fingers.” He air-typed and grinned. “I’ll save you a spot on the couch.”
I waited until Chuck was gone before I said anything. We stared at each other, grinning. Her hazel eyes darkened, but the little smile never left her face. Maybe I had a chance with her. And I was going to make the most of it, no matter how long it took.
“He may think he’s won, but there is no way this series ends in six.” I slid my free hand under my thigh to keep from reaching for her.
“Sounds like he got the best end of the deal, though. I don’t think a dinner of ramen noodles is the equal to typing a paper.”
“Don’t underestimate Chuck. He made chili for a fundraiser last winter and had old ladies begging for the recipe. If he wasn’t determined to become a shrink, he’d be chopping veggies for a living. His mom owns the Trainwreck Diner.” I broke our stare. The betting bothered me. It was the first rule of baseball. The original commissioner banned anyone associated with gambling; even those acquitted in the 1908 Black Sox scandal were banned. It wasn’t worth the risk. “I just hope he doesn’t get in trouble. He’s walking a fine line. One thing the pros hate is gambling.”
We cleaned up our table and made our way to the rec area. True to his word, Chuck cleared a spot on the couch for us. Mallory sat between me and Devin Miller, one of our better starting pitchers, just as the first pitch was thrown. I didn’t understand her hatred for a game she knew so well. Each swing of the bat, each slap of the ball on leather, I watched her, ready to bolt if she got too uncomfortable. If she knew I supported her, maybe she’d open up. Maybe. By the third inning, her eyes were glued to the screen, and her body relaxed against the back of the couch.
“Curve,” she whispered.
I turned to the screen and watched McGrath throw a nasty curve that caught the inside edge of the plate.
During his next windup, she whispered again. “Slider.”
McGrath missed outside with a slider.
I waited, my body inching a little closer to hers.
“Fastball. Dumbass,” she muttered.
Sure enough, McGrath hurled a fastball down the middle and Harold smacked it out over the right field wall. The guys started high-fiving each other, but I didn’t take my eyes off Mall
ory. She must have realized I was staring, because she turned to face me.
“What?” she asked, innocence covering her face.
“You called his last three pitches. How?” I shifted on the couch, curving my body around toward her.
She shrugged and stared at the TV again. “It wasn’t hard.” McGrath was in his windup. “Curve.”
The umpire called a strike as the batter swung at a curve on the outside of the plate.
“Seriously, tell me how you’re doing that.” I felt like getting on my knees and begging her for this information. If I could’ve bent my knee. “Are you reading the signs?”
“No. I’m reading the pitcher. Breaking ball.” She turned toward me again after McGrath threw a breaking ball that hung in the middle of the plate. It was crushed into right center for a standup double. “He’s tipping his pitches. Just watch, the Cards are going to break out this inning.”
Mallory leaned a little closer to me and called the next four pitches. The Cardinals scored another run and loaded the bases. The pitching coach came out to settle McGrath down.
“Okay, you have to tell me how you’re doing that,” Devin said from the other end of the couch. He started to scoot a little closer to Mallory until I glared at him.
I glanced around. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d heard Mallory. A couple of other guys leaned on the back of the couch. Mallory tensed almost immediately when she realized what was going on. I touched her arm, and she met my gaze.
Angling in so none of the eavesdroppers could hear, I asked, “Do you want to leave?”
She nodded, sliding a little closer to me. Her thigh pressed against mine and heat shot through my pants straight to my groin. “Yes, but I don’t think I should.”
I bent a little closer, my mouth so near her ear that I felt her shiver. “What do you mean?”
She responded the same way. “Because this feels like something I need to do, okay?”
Nodding, her hair tickling my face, I said, “Okay. Let me know and we’re gone.”
“Thank you,” she said. The “you” felt like a warm breeze against my ear. It took every bit of strength I had inside me not to wrap my arms around her.
Mallory straightened, and the fear on her face was replaced with that determination I’d become so familiar with. She took a deep breath. In that moment, her expression changed again. Mallory turned into the girl I first saw online, a take no shit teacher.
McGrath was getting settled on the mound when Mallory said, “Watch his position.” McGrath dug in a little to the right of the rubber. He pulled his glove up. She pointed toward the screen, a little cockiness tainting her voice. It was sexy. “See, there. He’s tilting his glove to the left, and you can see his index finger. That’s a curve.”
This time his curve went wild, bouncing in the dirt outside and past the catcher. Another run scored. The rest of the inning, Mallory continued her education of McGrath until he was pulled from the game. The guys took in her every word. It really was like watching her command a classroom.
“Betts, your girl’s awesome,” Devin said. A few other guys chimed in their agreement.
I started to open my mouth to tell them Mallory and I were just friends, but she shook her head slightly, and I closed it. They settled down when the game started back up with the relief pitcher ready, peppering Mallory with questions. She answered them all, amazing everyone. She called pitches, told us what the managers would do, and knew which way the ball would go when hit. Her knowledge blew me away. Devin left, and the rookie took his place. On the couch, sitting too close to Mallory. In the seventh, Rosenthal leaned in to her and put his hand on her knee. I reached out and pushed it off. He shook his head like he’d only just realized where his hand had been. Bullshit.
Mallory pressed herself closer to me and brought her lips to my ear. “Now, please.”
As much as I wanted to keep her that close, I stood, offering her my hand, and pulled her to her feet. My body froze the second hers left mine. I loosened my grip on her hand, but she wove her fingers between mine. Talk about mixed signals. Not that I protested.
We squeezed through the masses, ignoring the jabs about leaving early. I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t let go of her hand as we made our way out of the building. The wind hit me in the chest once we were out. My grip tightened around Mallory’s fingers.
“Aaron,” she said once we were a few steps from the building, “Thank you.”
I smiled at her and squeezed her hand, expecting her to let go. She held on halfway across the quad before loosening her grip. I let my hand fall away. We walked toward the other side of the campus in silence. Each step brought a new agony to my resistant knee.
“Knee bothering you?” She slowed further, and half of me was grateful. The other half was pissed I couldn’t keep pace with a girl a foot shorter.
But I wasn’t going to lie again. “Yeah, a little. It’s pretty tight.”
Her head bounced as her gaze returned to the path ahead.
I wished I could read her mind. I had no clue what she was thinking about. All that I focused on was the way her lips felt near my ear, her breath tickling my skin, the way her hand fit so perfectly in mine, and the heat that radiated from her. At the fork in the sidewalk, I turned with her toward the library instead of heading to my dorm.
“Don’t you need to go that way?” Mallory pointed behind us before sticking her hand back into the sleeves of her fleece jacket.
“Not until I know you’re safe in your car,” I said.
“That’s really sweet, but—”
“No buts, Mallory. I’m walking you to your car.” With a grin, I added, “Deal with it.”
She smiled and stepped on the edge of the sidewalk, twisting her ankle and losing her balance. Shit. I grabbed her arm before she hit cold ground and pulled her upright, straight into my chest. If she didn’t know how much I liked her before, she damned sure should’ve known then. The instant she touched me, my entire body went on high alert. I was saluting the troops.
Mallory’s face turned redder than a fire truck, and she pushed me away.
“You okay?” I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets and trying to covertly adjust myself.
“Yeah, thanks.” She started walking again, but at a slower pace than before. We practically stood still. “I’m sorry about earlier. I should’ve let you tell those guys we’re just friends.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Why?” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk again and stared up at me.
“Because of guys like Rosenthal. Even after we let them believe you’re my girl, he still tried to hit on you.” The image of his hand on her knee flashed in my head, and my anger flared along with it. “I’ll take care of that shit later.”
She nodded, lost in her own thoughts again, and began walking.
“Can I ask you something?” I nudged her shoulder with my arm. “Were you any good? At softball?”
Mallory laughed. “No, I was terrible. I can’t hit. I can’t field. But I was a great first base coach. Dad taught me how to read the fielders, the pitchers, the shift. I knew where the ball was going before the hitter even swung the bat. Our coach relied on my instincts. You know the old saying: those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.”
“I would’ve liked to have seen that.”
A sad smile was her response, but nothing more. I didn’t push it.
The quiet continued until we got to her car. Then I couldn’t help myself. She used a remote to unlock the doors of a black Jeep Wrangler. My jizz almost exploded in my pants. The seats were heather gray and the spotless interior was as if it just came off the assembly line. I climbed into the back, checking out every inch of it.
“I take it you like my car,” Mallory said, stifling a giggle with her hand.
I leaned forward between the front seats and gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dreaming of this Jeep since before I could drive.”
>
She dropped her hand away from her mouth, suddenly serious. “Me, too.”
The confusion clouding her face was all I could focus on. I locked eyes with her and climbed out, stopping in front of her. There was something under that confusion, fear maybe. Maybe a little regret. What did she have to regret?
I touched her arm. “Friends give friends rides in their dream cars, right? Maybe you can show me what this baby can do.”
“Friends do that,” she agreed. “But not tonight. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”
Mallory climbed into the driver’s seat and strapped herself in. She waved as she pulled out, but she didn’t look back. I waited until her taillights disappeared around the corner before turning to my dorm.
Friends. Yeah, right.
I stopped outside the dorm, far enough from the entrance to need a break. The throbbing had gone from a toy drum to an entire drum line. The last thing I wanted was another surgery. Watching Mallory as she dissected the game tonight revealed how much I wanted her to see me play. I wanted to come off the field after the ninth and catch her eye in the stands. I wanted to leave the locker room and walk straight into her arms. I wanted her. Simple.
But not so simple.
Seth whistled as he strode toward the dorm.
He had an answer.
He had the key to my season.
If I wanted it, it would be mine.
The debate inside me raged. It wasn’t cheating. Not really. Herbs and natural remedies didn’t make them PEDs. And I was already taking prednisone. This would just be an additional supplement. Nothing more.
“Seth, man, wait up,” I shouted before I even made up my mind. He stopped, confusion turning quickly to understanding as I limped toward him. We fell into step the rest of the way. “Tell me, how exactly did you return from rotator cuff surgery so fast?”
His hand clamped onto my shoulder, pushing me down a road I never thought I would take. “Step into my office. I’ll tell you everything.”
I followed him into his double room. Lucky bastard. I’d loved to have a double to myself. He had a navy loveseat next to his desk and a double bed with a black comforter. There was no doubt what atmosphere Seth wanted. Seth pulled a stash of bottles, syringes, and vials from his closet. Definitely not herbal.
Full Count (Westland University) Page 9
