I reached for my phone again. Coach had told me to call when I had my answer, but it was too late for that. Still, I needed to get this off my chest so I could go to sleep.
I opened my email app and intended to tell Coach it just wasn’t going to work. It was time for me to grow up. I had to leave baseball in the past, and think about my future.
It was time to be responsible.
I ignored the gnawing feeling in my gut and started the email. But by the time I pushed send the uneasy feeling had disappeared. I wasn’t exactly elated, but I felt better.
I felt like I could breathe.
Like maybe being an adult wasn’t such a bad thing.
Although, maybe I wasn’t a grown up yet. Since instead of doing the responsible thing, I’d replied, “Coach, I’ll do it.”
Chapter Six
Britte
“Whoa!” Ellie’s voice filled my room. “Looking hot, mama!”
I tugged on the hem of my skirt. “Do you think it’s too much?”
“For a date? Woman, you look insane.”
I smiled at my friend in the mirror. She was the opposite of me tonight. In a pair of a Fin’s sweatpants that had been rolled at the waist and still hung off her narrow hips, she was dressed down and ready to stay in. Fin was here for the weekend again, so the two of them were not leaving the apartment for thirty-six hours straight. Consequently, I wanted to be here as little as possible.
“For studying,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.
“Oh.” Her eyebrows scrunched together over her nose. “In that case you look a little slutty.”
“Ellie!” I whirled around and looked for something throw at her. “You’re not supposed to just say that.”
She shrugged. “You asked! Besides, a good friend always lets you know when you’re tramping it up. And I’m a good friend.”
I laughed. “You are a good friend.” Then I examined my closet again. “Maybe I should change.”
“Who are you studying with?”
I glanced over my shoulder, embarrassed to admit the truth. “Jameson.”
Her eyebrows raised, “Oh, oh, oh! Now I get it. You’re trying to lure Jameson in with your boobs.”
“If I had boobs, I would agree with you. I just want him to notice me.”
“Why?”
Her question caught me off guard. “What do you mean, why? That’s not even a relevant question. You know why.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “B, if Jameson hasn’t already noticed you, then he’s either secretly blind or an idiot. You’re smokin’ hot and hilarious and super smart and all the things he should want in a woman. If he hasn’t figured that out by now, then maybe you should look elsewhere.”
I made a growly sound in the back of my throat. “I don’t like any of the things that just came out of your mouth.”
Her smile gentled. “What’s going on with you lately? This isn’t you. I’ve never seen you dress like this to impress a guy.”
I looked down at my scoop neck t-shirt and short, flouncy skirt. “I dress like this sometimes.”
“Yeah, but because you want to. Not because you’re trying to get a guy, who has been your friend for the better part of nine months, to check you out.”
I sunk down on the edge of my bed, my shoulders sagging with defeat. She was right. This wasn’t me. Not that I was opposed to amping up the vavoom for a party or night out, but this was a little ridiculous.
And worse, it felt a little desperate.
More than a little.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Ellie walked over and sat down next to me. “I’m sorry, Britte.”
“It’s not you,” I told her immediately. “It’s me. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“What are you trying to do?”
I cringed, not wanting to admit to her the truth. “I don’t know. There’s something wrong with me. Suddenly, I feel very alone and…lonely. You have Fin now, and I love that. You’re so happy. He’s so perfect for you. It’s not like I’m jealous.” I looked at her, holding her gaze. “Please don’t think I am. I just…I just didn’t know I wanted that until you had it. I’ve always been happy as a loner. And then there was us, and I was happy with that, too. But I also didn’t know that what you and Fin have really existed. I thought it was all like chick flick crap and fiction. It’s so cool to see you guys in love and happy and together. But I’m so busy with school. And it’s only going to get worse.”
“And you like Jameson?”
“Sure, I like Jameson too.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“Well, the way you say you like Jameson is the way you talk about studying for a test. Like it’s an obligation.”
I felt a blush creep over my face. “It’s not. I don’t feel obligated to like him. He’s cool. And funny. And hot.”
“All reasons to like someone,” she agreed. “But usually there’s something more, too. Like you just can’t not like him. Like he’s the person you want to spend all your time with. The person you hope to run into when you’re out and about. The person that you always want to text.”
I glanced at my phone, feeling another embarrassing flush from my text messages last night. “I don’t feel all of those things,” I admitted. “At least, not yet. But I want to get to know him more. I can’t deny that. And I like everything I know about him so far.”
“Okay.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared her down. “Why don’t you sound like you believe me?”
“I just don’t want you to try too hard with Jameson because you’re afraid to try with someone else.”
I pushed off the bed and started rummaging around in my closet again. Picking out a pair of skinny jeans and a lacy, boho tank and cardigan, deciding I would stay a little truer to my style. “Someone else as in your brother?”
She flinched, and I knew I had caught her. “He asked me for permission. It was adorable.”
Electricity buzzed over my skin. “Permission for what?”
“To date you.” Her nose wrinkled. “Or at least, try to date you.”
“He asked you? Like you’re my dad or something?”
She laughed like I’d told a joke and wasn’t on the verge of being super irritated. “No, not like I’m your dad. Because I’m your friend. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t weird for me or anything. He was being considerate.”
“For you. Not for me.”
“Britte, I know my brother is…crazy. But he’s not a jerk.”
I leaned back and contorted my body to button my ultra skinny jeans. Then I met her gaze. Ellie and I never fought. We never miscommunicated or disagreed. We pretty much shared a brain, and it was frustrating that my words were getting so jumbled tonight.
I felt off. Like my skin was too tight, and my bones were too big. Something inside me felt itchy and misplaced. I took a deep breath and tried to focus my spinning thoughts.
“I know he’s not a jerk, Ellie. I swear I wasn’t calling him one. He’s a nice guy. I just…I just don’t think he wants the same thing that I do.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Her question was sincere without a hint of hurt or judgment. It gave me the courage to go on. “Has he even had a long-term girlfriend before? I mean, we used to make fun of him all the time for having a ‘fan club.’ I’m not trying to insult him; I’m just trying to be smart about this. I have fun with Beckett. And it would be fun to let myself go with him for a little while. But then what? When he’s done having fun and ready to move on, what am I supposed to do?”
Ellie remained silent for a minute. I finished getting dressed and checked myself out in the mirror attached to my closet again.
Better.
Much better.
I took a deep breath and reclaimed my self-confidence. I wasn’t desperate. I wasn’t skanky.
I was goal dr
iven and focused.
Maybe a little intense.
But not pathetic.
I touched up my makeup with some red eyeliner and bronze shadow, then applied a few more coats of mascara. Grabbing some gold bangles and chandelier earrings, I turned to Ellie.
She smiled at me, and it was genuine. “Much better.”
“Beckett wants to take me to dinner tomorrow night.” I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose. “Any advice?”
She leaned back on her palms and crossed her legs, looking casual and nervous all at the same time. “He had a girlfriend in high school. I don’t know if that makes this better or worse. But they dated for two years.”
“What happened?”
“She went to college in Arizona. He played ball and didn’t have time or energy for a long distance relationship. She was nice. But Beckett went through his manwhore phase or whatever. I’m just saying he can stay committed. He has it in him. Maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl yet.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Ellie could be so naïve, especially when it came to boys. “Are you telling me Beckett has just been trying to find the right girl? That’s why there’s been so many?”
Her lips tilted in a goofy smile. “That’s wishful thinking, isn’t it?”
“You want to think the best of your brother. I get it. But I have to have eyes wide open, or I’m going to get hurt.”
Her smile died. “So are you going to dinner with him tomorrow night?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“You should go. At least to see for yourself.”
“See what for myself?”
“See him try. I’ve never seen it. It could be interesting.”
A tingle zipped down my spine. She was right. It could be interesting.
“Well, first I have to study with Jameson. So let’s get me through tonight first.”
She stood up and dropped her hands to her hips. “Good plan.”
We walked out of my room together and down the hall to the living room and kitchen area. Fin sat on the couch playing with his phone. He looked up when we walked into the room and smiled at Ellie.
It was too adorable and sweet and hot all at once. Fin was not even human with his hotness. It was ridiculous.
“Hey, Fin,” I said loud enough to break the happy couple out of their ogling.
His gaze reluctantly moved to me. “Hey, Britte. How are you?”
“Same. You?”
His smile widened. “Same.” His eyes moved over me. “You look good. Big night?”
I blushed. Fin always said what was on his mind. He and Ellie were a lot alike in that way. He was also super nice. I didn’t have a lot of good guys in my life, but Fin was one of them. Fin and my dad. That was it. They had become the standard for all things I compared men to. And for good reason. “I’m just working on some homework with your pal Jameson.”
His smile stayed frozen on his face. “Oh yeah? Careful with that one. He’s handsy.”
My cheeks turned bright red. “Uh-oh. Maybe I should have picked a less sexy subject to work on.”
Fin’s eyes twinkled. “What are you working on?”
“Statistics.”
Fin’s bark of laughter made me laugh. “That is a sexy subject. I don’t know how McKay is going to control himself.”
I let out a weary sigh. “I always have this problem. The second I start talking probabilities men just throw themselves at me. I’m like, enough already.”
Ellie plopped down next to Fin. “You’re such a dork.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Takes one to know one.”
Fin laughed at us. “Oh, I’ve missed you girls.” Ellie snuggled into his side and threw her arm around his stomach. That was my cue to leave.
“All right kiddos, I’ll catch you later.”
“Bye, B. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Els.”
“Say hi to Jameson for me,” Fin called after me. “Tell him I’ll text about tomorrow.”
“Will do!” I squeezed through our apartment door and hurried down the stairs to the parking lot.
I had an old beat up Taurus that my dad had given me when I turned sixteen. We had never had a ton of money, even though it was just him and me. But he’d done everything he could to make sure I had a car the day I turned sixteen. And he’d kept it running for me. It would never be the prettiest car in the lot, but she was my pride and joy. Especially now that I lived on my own. She reminded me of my dad, and I loved her even more because of it.
But Jameson and I were meeting at the library, so I left my car in the parking spot I’d claimed with blood, sweat and mostly a whole lot of driving around until someone had vacated it. I had just a short walk to campus and the big, beautiful building with warm lights and stacks and stacks of beautiful books.
The library was one of my favorite places in the world. It always had been. It had been an escape for me. Shelter. Refuge. And then when I got older and realized if I wanted to do something with my life, I was going to have to buckle down and do it myself…it became hope.
I pushed through the doors and glanced around at the busy but quiet tables filled with fellow students cramming on a Friday night. These were the diehards…the overwhelmed and undernourished. These were my people.
While our peers partied hard and drank their weight in keg stands, we willingly gave up our liberty and our weekend nights to cram as much knowledge into our tired heads as possible.
I found Jameson around a few corners, at a table that stayed hidden in the research section. I smiled and said hello even as I wondered at his strange choice of tables.
“Hey,” he smiled at me. “Fin texted to say you were on your way, so I grabbed this table. Hope it’s okay.”
“It’s great.” I looked up at the lights and noticed the center track had burned out. I’d barely be able to see my work.
I sat down next to him and pulled out my books, notebooks, water bottle, pens, sticky notes, and lip balm. It took a good five minutes for me to organize everything and get myself situated. I didn’t think anything of it until I glanced over at him when I was finished. He had a notebook and our textbook and one pen.
Feeling a little neurotic, I let out a shaky laugh and tried to appear casual. “Sorry. I like things a certain way. It helps me concentrate.”
He reached for my egg shaped lip balm. “Is this all it takes? Maybe I should get some for me.”
I smiled at him. “I think you’re more of a gloss guy.”
“The shiny shit girls put on their lips?”
I laughed. “Yeah.”
He shook his head. “I hate that stuff.”
“You hate lip gloss?”
He leaned forward, and his auburn hair flopped over his forehead. “I hate when it gets all over my face, and I have to taste bubble gum for the rest of the night.”
Now I was beyond confused. “Why are you eating bubble gum lip gloss?” I leaned toward him too. “Why are you wearing it at all?”
His mouth quirked up in a smile. “When I’m making out with a girl, Britte. I’m not wearing the lip gloss. She is.”
“Oh.” I dropped my face into my hands and laughed at myself. “Oh.”
Jameson’s amused voice only added to my embarrassment. “I take it you’re not one of those girls that shellacs her lips to lure the boys?”
I took a deep breath as images of my last make out—the one where I crawled onto Beckett’s lap and basically sexually assaulted him—flooded my mind. I felt my cheeks heat and an irrational, panicky fear that Jameson could suddenly read my mind and see all my dirty secrets. “No,” I told him, pulling my hands down and attempting to look at him again. “I’m not one of those girls.”
“I can see that,” he acknowledged. “So what tricks do you use?”
“Tricks?” I snorted. I pushed the embarrassment away in favor of indignation.
“Methods,” he clarified. When I frowned, he turned on the teasing grin and sugges
ted, “Skills? Talents? Wiles?”
“My wiles?”
His eyes twinkled playfully. “Your womanly wiles.”
I couldn’t help but smile, giving into the ridiculousness of the conversation. “I don’t have any. Honestly. I’m kind of a train wreck when it comes to dating.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true! I can’t even remember the last time I was out on a date. At least, one that didn’t end in total disaster.” Or me making out with my best friend’s brother.
“Ah. I’ve had a few of those.”
I cringed, “I’ve had more than a few.”
Jameson leaned back and threw his arm over the chair next to him. “Well, they’re idiots.”
“I will agree with that.”
“It can’t last forever, though, right?” His lips twitched with a self-deprecating smile. “That’s what I tell myself.”
“You don’t have trouble getting normal dates,” I said it like I meant it. He didn’t. He couldn’t. There was no way.
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I can’t find a normal girl to save my life. Why do you think I’m still single?”
“Because you want to be!”
He laughed. “No. Hard no.” He reached for his notebook so he could spin it around on the table and didn’t have to look at me. “I swear I’m attracted to crazy girls or something. Every girl I date turns out to be bonkers.”
This was it. This was my chance. I wanted Jameson to notice me, so all I had to do was think of something flirty to say. Give him an opening. Make it obvious that I was interested. And not crazy.
Instead, I said, “It’s better than players. I can only get the guys with little black books the size of encyclopedias.”
His gaze lifted from the table. “You’re talking about Beckett Harris?”
I swallowed. I hadn’t meant to be so transparent. My stomach jumped with anxiety, but not because of Jameson…because of what I wanted Jameson to say about Beckett. “He’s the most recent, yeah.”
Something flashed over Jameson’s face, and I didn’t know what to think of it. Disappointment? Pity? Rejection?
Bet on Me (Bet on Love #2) Page 7
