“I guess you’re my date for the night.” Kidd puts his arm around me and bats his eyelashes. I push him away and turn back toward the bar. Sports highlights are playing on the television. Right now we have basketball, baseball and hockey – its fan central overload for a true sports fan. On any given night, you can flip through at least three channels to watch some type of sporting event.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and take it off airport mode. It’s only a matter of seconds before the notifications come in.
“Why do you even have notifications on?” Kidd is looking over my shoulder, watching as my phone keeps registering text messages, Twitter alerts and Facebook posts.
“I like to see what people are saying about me,” I say, shrugging. I pick up my drink and almost spit it out when I see Daisy’s name come in as a text message. I angle my phone away from Kidd and contemplate whether I want to know what she has to say. I opt to read my twitter alerts first.
BoRe Blogger @BoReRenBlog – 4hrs
Renegades win despite @TheRealEthanD striking out 4xs! 2 much hype?
My temperature starts to rise as I read the tweet that started the flurry of notifications. This blogger is a piece of work and I can pretty much guarantee you that he’s never played a professional game in his life. If he had, he would show a bit more respect in his posts. These people who hide behind screen names and do nothing but incite hate piss me off. There needs to be a law about this kind of crap.
I scroll through the responses. Some agree, while others disagree. A few women tweet that I’m hot, sexy and they don’t care if I strike out, as long as they don’t. Classy. Another tweet by the blogger catches my attention.
BoRe Blogger @BoReRenBlog – 3hrs
Seems @TheRealEthanD didn’t bother exchanging numbers...
There’s an image attached and I’m almost afraid to scroll up to see it. I can tell by the small sliver showing that there are people in the background. I down the rest of my drink, letting my thumb hover over my screen. When there isn’t a drop left, I push down, dragging my thumb up.
Fuck me. It’s a picture of Daisy holding a sign that says “Call Me”. This has to be what Bennett was referring to during the game when he said she wants a second chance. I shake my glass for a refill and look over at Kidd, who is engrossed in his phone. We’re a sad, sad example of single men. Once my drink is refilled, I down it, needing the liquid courage to read Daisy’s text message.
I close Twitter and click on the green message button. My mom, dad, sister and Sarah have all texted, along with my agent, but it’s only Daisy’s message that I’m interested in. The first line is visible without even opening the message.
Daisy: Sorry…
That’s all I can see without opening the rest. It makes me wonder what exactly she’s sorry for. The sign? Or the fact that she mentioned rumors? The guy that wanted to get to know her yesterday wants to hear what she has to say, but the asshole in me doesn’t care. She’s just another chick in the pool of millions. Unfortunately, I’m my own worst enemy and I love to torture myself.
Daisy: Sorry…
I’m sorry for the stupid remarks I made, how closed off I am & the sign. I tried calling you but couldn’t bring myself to actually press your name. I thought the sign would work but I guess it didn’t. I just wanted to say thank you for breakfast and I’m sorry.
I read and reread her babbling message. She’s sorry for being closed off? Doesn’t she realize that most of us want to be like that, but our privacy is invaded? We’re followed, spied on and can’t do a simple thing like go to the mall without being hounded. She’s lucky that she can be closed off, especially from ridiculous media agencies. They tell the world everything and would probably even like to document when we take a shit if they could.
“I’m going to head out,” I tell Kidd, who nods. We both throw a couple of twenties down on the bar and tell the bartender we’ll see him later. He’ll likely be our best friend for the next couple of nights. “I need to call home,” I tell Kidd as he turns for the elevator. I walk toward the door, slipping off my sports coat as I step outside. The grounds of the hotel are expansive and illuminated by ground lighting. I walk down a path until I come to a bench and sit down.
I look at my phone and read her message again. This time I don’t hesitate when I think about calling her. I press down on her name and listen to the ringing on the other end.
“It’s two a.m.” her voice is hoarse, sexy. The sound of her on the other line is like music to my ears and sends chills down my spine. I know in this moment that unless I cut her off completely and ignore her, I’m going to fall hard for her. There’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know if it’s the innocence in her eyes, the pinkness in her cheeks or the fact that she’s a baseball fan, but she’s doing something to me and I’m not sure I’m going to survive whatever it is.
“You didn’t specify what time you wanted me to call you,” I tell her, trying to keep things light when I really want to ask her what she’s wearing and if she’s been thinking about me.
“Hmm, I guess I didn’t.” The way she hums sends a jolt to my system. I adjust the way I’m sitting to circumvent any building pressure.
“Do you want me to hang up and let you get some sleep?” Please say no. Please stay on the line and give me some hint that we can go on a date, or at least get coffee.
“No, I wanted you to call.”
I let out a sigh but hold back the “thank God” from escaping my lips.
“Oh yeah?” I ask.
“Yes, I need to apologize. I was wrong to assume. And I’m very closed off, but for good reason. I thought that maybe I could treat you to breakfast when you get back?”
“I’d love that,” I tell her without hesitation. We talk for another hour until we’re both yawning and trying to find the words to continue.
“Sweet dreams, Daisy,” I say as I hang up. I hold the edge of my phone pressed against my chin for a beat longer before I tell the world how I feel.
EDavenport @TheRealEthanD
I’m falling…
The Renegades are BACK!!
The second major road trip of the season didn’t go in our favor. Tampa Bay came out ahead, winning two of the three games and the Renegades didn’t fare much better against the Orioles. Sunday’s game against the O’s had us giving up eighteen runs.
Three weeks in and we’re giving up more runs than scoring: 108 earned / 114 given.
Manager, Cal Diamond, chose not to speak to the press after Sunday’s game. Could his time be coming to an end in Boston?
First baseman, Kayden Cross, is the only notable player from this road series. He had a hit in every game and drove in at least one run a game.
The Renegades are 12-10 going into this nine-game home stand with two days off. Let’s hope those days are spent on the much needed … well... everything.
GOSSIP WIRE
I’m hearing more and more rumors that Steve Bainbridge is out at the end of the year. Cooper Bailey has been in at Lowery Field meeting with upper management while the Renegades were on the road. It’s also being rumored that Bainbridge may have strayed from his marriage and his wife is giving him an ultimatum to get the hell out of Boston or else. Clearly, divorce is not an option for Bainbridge’s wife. It’s probably the iron clad pre-nup she had to sign before they were married, but nonetheless, a wife scorned is never fun.
Surely if Cooper Bailey comes to Beantown, Ethan Davenport will no longer be Boston’s most eligible bachelor. It’d be nice to see Davenport get a run for his money in that department.
It’ll be interesting to watch Twitter in the next few days to see how many “hook-ups” the Renegades had on their road trip.
One thing is for sure; Ethan Davenport seems to have fallen, at least according to an early morning tweet after the team reportedly arrived in Tampa Bay. Let’s hope he didn’t hit his head to hard.
The BoRe Blogger
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The first thing I do after my shower is text Daisy to see if she’d like to meet for lunch. I’m still in the dark about a lot of personal things when it comes to her and it didn’t escape my notice that each time we spoke while I was away, it was about my game. She would rarely answer questions, except for the basics like favorite food and color. I get why she keeps everything to herself. I’m a wildcard where she’s concerned. She’s read the rumors, and while some are true, others have been made up purely to get traffic to a certain website. Nonetheless, I’d be hesitant too. Most people only dream of meeting celebrities, sports figures, and the like, but to have one calling you at odd hours just to talk, has to be pretty freaking surreal.
She answers when I call at one a.m. after being in the bar with the guys. She doesn’t ask what I’ve been doing, or if I’ve been with anyone even though I want her to. I want to be able to tell her that she has been on my mind since that first morning in Tampa and that I can’t wait to see her again. I hold back, though, because I don’t want to scare her away. It’s important for me to pursue her the right way and not like the sex-crazed twenty-two-year old that I am.
For the first time in a long time, I want this girl to like me, and not the one that makes a regular appearance in the sports pages of the tabloids. Rarely do I find a woman who isn’t related to me that can talk shop and understand what I’m saying, although, that could come back to bite me in the ass if I keep playing like shit. I have no doubt Daisy will tell me where I fucked up and what I need to do to get better.
Daisy texts back saying she wants to meet at T. Anthony’s Pizzeria. Between the pizza joint and the place we had breakfast, I can pretty much guess that we’re meeting in between her classes, even though she won’t tell me what her schedule is. I’m going to have to find a way to get it out of her because I’m hoping there will be a day where I want to surprise her. I can see myself showing up on campus and leaning against my car as I wait for her to come out of her dorm or class. I’m getting ahead of myself here, having these thoughts. I don’t even know if she likes me or just feels sorry for me right now.
The BoRe Blogger was quiet while we were on our road trip. The losses diminished most of our spirits and no one wanted to do anything. I didn’t play as well as I had been which is bringing my batting average down. My father doesn’t like that and has expressed his displeasure with my strikeouts after one of the games. Even though I’m playing at the highest level possible, you’re never too old to take feedback from your first coach, especially when he’s your dad.
There’s a light drizzle falling as I drive over to T. Anthony’s. I hate thinking Daisy is out walking in this. I shake my head trying to clear my thoughts. My first thought about rain shouldn’t be about Daisy, but about whether we’re going to play tonight. We have three games until we get a day off. And that day off just so happens to be Daisy’s birthday. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to see her, but I’m assuming her family will want to take up all of her time.
I park across the street from the restaurant and jaywalk through traffic. Definitely not the brightest decision I’ve made today. I half jog, half speed walk to get out of the light rain and as soon as I reach for the door, Daisy is there, pushing it open for me.
“Hi.” You would think that I’m out of breath from zigzagging my way over here, but I’m simply out of breath from looking at her. Today, there’s no BoRe fan staring back at me, but a sexy co-ed who I want to get to know better. Her blonde hair is flowing in long curls that I want to twist around my fingers or pull on them to see if they bounce back. She’s wearing a light coating of make-up, nothing too heavy, but enough to make her eyes stand out even more. She’s wearing a black sweater and jeans with boots, and as much as she looks like every other college girl in town, her sheer beauty makes her stand out. When she smiles, I am done for. If I weren’t holding the door, I’d be on my knees in front of her.
“Hi,” she says back sending my nerves into a tizzy. One freaking word and I’m a borderline pansy boy. At least, that’s what Kidd would say. I need to rein it in because if I’m not careful I could be making a fool out of myself where she’s concerned.
“Hi,” I say, stupidly and end up blushing, which, in turn, causes her to laugh. I give in to temptation and pick up one of her curls and pull it between my thumb and finger before letting it go. It bounces back into place like a spring. She laughs and all I can think about is giving her a hug. It’ll have to wait until after lunch.
“I already got us a table.” She motions behind her, the grin never leaving her face. Maybe we needed that hiccup to get past the awkward stage to where we are now.
I take her hand in mine and let her lead the way. As we walk down the aisle, my name is mentioned in loud whispers. I nod and smile at each person who’s looking, hoping that they give Daisy and me some time alone before they start bombarding me with autograph and photo requests.
I sit down across from her and place my hands on the table. “I have questions.” She blushes, but nods.
“I figured. Go ahead, but I’m warning you now that I reserve the right to not answer.” Her hands are folded on the table like mine. I use this to my advantage and move my arms a bit closer toward hers. My index finger lightly strokes her knuckles and when she doesn’t pull away, I take it as a good sign.
“Are you in between classes, or skipping again?” I cock my eyebrow at her.
She smirks, beating me at my own game. “What if I were skipping?”
“Well, I’d feel bad. I know my schedule isn’t that flexible, but I don’t want you skipping to spend time with me…” I trail off, realizing that didn’t come out as planned, so I try again. “What I mean is that your education is important.”
“Well, thanks for that, Professor Davenport! No, I’m not skipping.” Her lips curl into a small grin before she continues. “Is it okay if I ask questions too?”
“Of course,” I tell her.
“Okay, do you regret tweeting out your address?”
I hang my head in shame and nod. When I look up, she’s laughing at me. I don’t blame her. I’d laugh at my stupid ass too if I were her. “Worst mistake ever.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“I was new in town and wanted to meet my neighbors so I thought I’d have a little get together at my place, but no one showed up, so I sent out the tweet. I deleted it a few seconds later, but the damage was already done.”
“Do you have random people showing up at your house?”
“No, not anymore, but I used to.”
Daisy leans closer and whispers the next question. “What do you do in the off-season?”
“I go home and visit, but spent most of my winter in Boston. I love the winter festival downtown and I had my family out here for Christmas last year. With my brother-in-law being deployed, I tried to make Christmas as fun as possible for my sister and niece. What type of pizza do you like?” I spot the waitress out of the corner of my eye. I want to be able to order and send her on her way.
“Most anything, really. Sausage and mushroom is my favorite from here.”
“I’ve never had the pie here. I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s really good.” The movement is subtle, but I notice it when she pushes her hand into my touch. To me, this is a sign, and I roll with it by taking her hand in mine. It’s a bit awkward to hold hands on top of the table, but I’m being a gentleman. Next time I’ll share a booth with her.
I quickly place our order and turn my attention back to the beauty across the table from me.
“So, Daisy, do you live in the dorms?”
She takes a drink of water and dabs her mouth with her napkin. “My freshman year I did. Since then, I moved home to save money.”
“So no wild sorority parties?”
Daisy laughs, but doesn’t exactly answer me. She stares at her lap, like she’s thinking of something, so I tell her about my wild days.
“At Oregon State, I was in a fraternity. I wasn�
�t going to pledge because of baseball, but my buddy thought it would be a great way to meet chicks.”
“Was it?”
I nod. “Yes, and no. I had a girlfriend when I went to college so I never really did the party thing, plus I was busy with baseball. But my junior year – that’s when the parties were off the hook. For every party we had, though, we were also doing community service and fundraisers. Some of them were a bit scandalous.”
Her eyes pop when I mention the word scandalous. “Like what?” she asks, leaning forward.
“Well, this one year, the baseball team did a carwash… in our underwear... in November.”
Daisy covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. “You can laugh all you want. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever participated in, but it gave some orphans a chance at a decent Christmas.”
“That was very nice of you.”
I shrug and reluctantly let go of her hand when our pizza arrives. Our water glasses are refilled and we’re asked if we need anything else. Daisy is the one who tells her we’re fine and digs right into the pie. I like a girl with an appetite and who doesn’t want to eat rabbit food all the time. Sometimes you need to indulge in some carbs to survive.
We eat the first couple of pieces in silence until I open my mouth and, in true Ethan Davenport form, ask the dumbest question yet.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I catch her mid chew and she shoots me what can only be described as an “are you kidding me right now?” look. She puts her fork down and covers her mouth with her napkin while she finishes chewing.
“If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Fair enough,” I say, knowing that’s not even remotely enough to satisfy my mind. “I’m sorry it was rude of me to ask or to make the assumption.” I don’t want to say that I made the assumption that she would, in fact, cheat because I really do feel like she’s different from the others out there.
Third Base (The Boys of Summer #1) Page 5
