Branch Singleton tried to make the Yankees pay, going deep each time at bat, but the acrobatic skills of the Yankees’ outfielders proved to be too much for Singleton’s long ball game. Better luck next time.
The Tampa Bay Devil Rays are in town for three games followed by an off day.
Thursday, the Renegades will be doing arts and crafts with their littlest fans at Beth Israel Hospital. Sorry adult fans, you must be under eighteen and kicking Cancer’s ass to be a part of this.
On the minor league front, Cooper Bailey hit for the cycle yesterday, paving his way to move up. Even if Bainbridge stays, the front office can’t afford to keep Bailey in the minors. He’ll be demanding a trade before too long. GM Stone needs to make a move... and soon.
Gossip Wire
Ethan Davenport is heading to media training. I guess we now know why he hasn’t given any interviews before or after the games. Apparently, the pretty face can only get you so far and Mr. Davenport will be learning how to speak, act and socialize on television when he takes a two section – not course – at the University of Boston – the same school his current flavor of the month attends. I wonder if they’ll car pool?
There’s still no word on why Cal Diamond has been spotted at the Cancer clinic. Once we find out, we’ll update you.
Bryce Mackenzie is making it official with his girlfriend, model turned designer, Gabby Nolan. He popped the question two weeks ago when she came into town and tonight she was spotted with a four-carat princess cut diamond ring on her finger. I guess the rumors about her and pro-Tennis player, Ralph Amato, is just that – rumors!
The Bainbridge’s were seen heading into marriage counseling. By all accounts, Steve looked like he didn’t want to be there when caught by a photographer being pulled into the building by his wife. She’s gotta hang onto the money!
The BoRe Blogger
Freshman year I was that eager student who signed up for eight a.m. classes because I thought it’d be best to get my day over sooner, even after my six a.m. workouts. That lasted exactly one week until I was groggily dragging my ass out of bed and barely making it to class. “Naps” became my favorite four-lettered word, and a shower turned into something I had to schedule. Second semester I planned a little better, but by the time I was a sophomore, I refused to take any class that started before eleven. The six a.m.’s never went away, but that nap right after my workout was the best part of my day.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been uncharacteristically getting up early so I can spend time with Daisy. The minute my alarm would sound, I’d hop out of bed, shower, shave, get dressed and leave with a damn smile on my face. Today is different. Now, as my alarm is buzzing, my pillow is once again being held to my face by my forearm as I pray that the noise will stop and I can fall back to sleep. Even knowing that I’m about to see Daisy, the knowledge doesn’t rouse my sleeping body. The fact that I have to go to school – a place I’ve already graduated from – is keeping me in bed. The mere mention of class and my body is tired and exhausted even though I got plenty of sleep last night.
I roll over with a groan and slam my hand down on the clock, silencing it before it makes my ears bleed. I let out a cough and quickly convince myself that I have a cold and there is no possible way I can make it to class. It would be unfair of me to infect the student body with any illness.
Reaching for my phone, I rise up on my elbows and type out a text to Daisy.
I have a cold. Can’t go to class.
The conversation bubble pops up immediately making me smile. I know she wasn’t waiting for my text, but the fact that she stopped what she was doing to reply means the world to me.
Daisy Robinson: Well that sucks. I thought we could make out behind one of the dorms today.
My eyes bug out at her text message and sure enough my happy stick likes the idea of making out with her, although not in public.
I’m feeling better
I type back and send before it dawns on me that she just played me. I’m slow to get out of bed, and contemplate going to class looking like the quintessential college kid. No one would really care. Chicks dig the messy, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-look on guys just as much as dudes like the I-just-got-fucked-look on a chick.
Each step I take on my way to the bathroom has me thinking of another excuse as to why I should stay home. I don’t know why I’m being such a baby about taking this class - it’s only for two weeks, two hours a day... and half the time I’ll be on the road. But, I’ll be on campus with Daisy and I think that’s what’s scaring me. I don’t want her to get sick of me because I’m around too much, or worse, act like we aren’t seeing each other to avoid scrutiny in the press, even though everyone knows we’ve been hanging out. The BoRe Blogger made that public for us.
My hair is an unruly mess and standing on end. I run my hands under the water and through my hair but nothing changes. It’s definitely a hat day for me. I finish up the rest of my necessary morning crap in the bathroom before slipping on a pair of sweats with a Nike t-shirt and shoes. The ladies in the front office of the Renegades were gracious enough to buy me a few school supplies which I gather up before heading out the door. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind that I would need a pen and paper.
The drive over to the University takes longer than I had planned and once I find a parking spot that seems far enough away to be in another country, I’m running to class with a map in my hands like a lost freshman. “Official Nerd Alert” should be flashing across my chest right now. I enter what I hope is my class, out of breath and with 100 or so eyes staring at me. There’s clear recognition of who I am as eyes go wide, mouths drop and the eager whispers and texting starts.
“Mr. Davenport, it’s so nice of you to join us,” the professor so nicely announces, pointing out that I’m late. I nod in his direction and take the first available seat, which happens to be between two girls, both brunette and both watching my every move.
They lean toward me in unison as I get comfortable and the one on my right hands me the paperwork that I need.
“Thanks,” I mumble, keeping my eyes focused on the professor.
“You’re welcome, Ethan,” she says dreamily, which really makes me uncomfortable. I’m used to this kind of attention, but something about her and her friend on my left seems odd. I can’t put my finger on it. Tomorrow, I’m going to have to be early so I can pick another seat and maybe pay some dudes to sit next to me.
“Social media is a powerful tool,” the professor starts. “It can be used for just about everything. Many people announce their engagements, the birth of a child, or when they’re in a relationship. It can also be used for bad news, like when you change a relationship status from ‘in a relationship’ to ‘it’s complicated’. Most of you don’t realize that it wasn’t that complicated until you made it such on social media.”
He has a good point. When Sarah and I decided to part ways, she changed her relationship status from “in a relationship” to “single” and her friends posted that I was a jerk, an asshole, and that she could do better. She spent hours defending me, saying that our break-up had been mutual, and that we were still very good friends, just going in different directions in life. We, collectively, had decided it’d be best to part while happy with each other instead of fighting. We didn’t want to end up hating each other.
“Social media is also an avenue for awareness, such as an accident on the route you usually drive, or for a fundraiser. What a lot of people don’t realize is that media and social media are the same thing with the only difference being live footage. For example: I can go on live television and give an interview. Someone sitting at home with nothing to do can take bits and pieces from said interview and mash them together creating something new and the exact opposite of what I actually said during my live interview and post it on social media. My interview has now gone from media to social media. Sadly, this cannot be prevented, but what can happen to prevent this type of thing from happening is for
people to utilize their social media pages for the positive. Direct them to the correct interview, even if it’s not yours.”
As I look around, everyone is either typing on their computers, or hand writing notes. I’m doing neither because I thought this class was going to prepare me for what I need to say to the media and what not to post on social media. I don’t care about interviews gone badly – that shit happens all the time – which is why I’m here. The Renegades want to prevent me from putting my foot in my mouth or being labeled stupid due to nerves.
After the first few minutes, I’m zoning out, not focused on class as the professor continues on about the differences and likenesses of all forms of socializing. I can feel my phone vibrating against my leg, tempting me to take it out and see what’s going on, but getting scolded again isn’t high on my priority list. Now that I’m sitting here, staying in bed with that fake cough is becoming more and more appealing. I thought this guy was going to teach me how to give an interview, something my college should’ve taught us. I suppose I could tell Stone that I don’t want to attend and just accept the fact that I’ll never have any television time.
I must’ve zoned out because the girl next to me is tapping me on the shoulder, telling me to pack up. She says something about following her and her friend to the library for an assignment and I figure I better do it since I haven’t a clue as to what just happened. I keep pace behind them as we walk through the busy campus. Instead of looking around at the scenery, I’m looking for a familiar pair of green eyes.
I really wish I had paid attention to what the professor was saying because I don’t want to do homework club or whatever it is that has me following these two girls up the stairs and into the library. I need to be better than this first showing. Right now, I’m showing everyone in that class I’m nothing but a dumb jock.
It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been inside a college library, or any library for that matter. I’ve forgotten how quiet everyone is. That is unless you’re Ethan Davenport and you just walked in and everyone stops, stares and pulls out their phone to take your picture. I wave and break off from these classmates of mine in search of a corner I can hide in. My plan is to text Daisy and ask her to come and save me... only I don’t have to because I spot her sitting at one of the computer terminals. I walk up behind her, thinking I should scare her, but think better of it. Being in the library where you’re required to be quiet and making her scream from shock might not be the best thing for her. The last thing I want is for her to get into trouble.
“Hey, babe,” I say letting the term of endearment fall easily from my lips. My arrival has clearly caught her off guard as I happen to see what’s on her screen before she fumbles to close the window and my heart sinks. I know declarations haven’t been made, but I had hoped she’d respect me where certain things are considered... The BoRe Blog being one of those things. By the look on her face, eyes down and no smile, she knows I’m not happy. I pull out the chair next to her and pull hers so she’s facing me.
Her hair is down, the ends curled, and I find myself playing with a tendril. It’s soft and curves around my finger like it belongs there. Against my better judgment I lean forward and press my lips to hers.
“Please don’t read that shit,” I beg as my lips ghost over hers. The last thing I want is for her to read the BoRe Blogger and assume that anything on there is legit.
Even though her birthday was just the other day, I’ve seen her every night since. After the games she waits for me, we get dinner and then I drive her home. I park illegally in front of her building and we make out like horny teenagers, steaming up the windows of my SUV. It had been years since I’ve reached first or second base in a car, but damn if it doesn’t feel good. Everything is so much more exciting and dangerous when you’re trying to get your girl off with your hand down her jeans, hoping no one happens to walk by and see what you’re doing. And when she moves to straddle you in your seat, pressing against your erection… yeah, your next off day can’t come soon enough because all you want to do is take her back to your place and be deep inside her.
We have three more games until we leave on a ten game road trip, a road trip that is going to include a trip back home, where Kidd so kindly reminded me that my ex is waiting and expecting sex. I haven’t found the nerve to tell her that I’ve started to see someone. I don’t know what’s stopping me. Maybe it’s because I’m waiting for Daisy to introduce me as her boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” she says, as she pushes her fingers under my hat so she can play with my hair. She deepens the kiss with a sweep of her tongue against my lips and just like that I’m getting hard in a place where none of this shit should be happening.
“Wanna get out of here?” I ask, pulling her up with me as I stand. She nods and reaches over to shut down the computer she was working on. She takes my hand as I lead us out of the building and back through the students, to the parking lot which feels a million miles away.
“Where’d you park?”
“New York,” I say sarcastically, making her laugh.
When we finally reach my car, at least ten minutes have passed. I help her into the passenger seat and move to my side, tossing my notepad, sans any notes, in the backseat. Before I have a chance to start the car, she’s in my lap, attacking me. She grinds against me, bringing me back to life once again. This isn’t the time or place, as its daylight and people can see through my front window. I can’t imagine what pictures will be all over the web when I get home. This probably goes against all the social media training I sat through today.
“Daisy,” I say her name, trying to gain her attention as I slightly push her away. “Do you want to go back to my place? I have a couple of hours until I need to be at the field.”
I don’t care if it’s only been a few weeks since we’ve officially met; the cat-and-mouse game of staring at each other for a year has been like foreplay without touching... it’s been mental foreplay.
She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth and nods. My next movement is a blur and I do believe I may have thrown her into her seat out of sheer excitement to finally have my way with her. I can’t be sure because I’m a dude, and she’s fucking sexy and horny which is a really dangerous combination, but who cares? I have a few hours to kill with my smoking hot girl and I’m going to use them to my advantage. The only problem is – it’s lunchtime in Boston so traffic is going to be a bitch.
Fucking Boston traffic.
We would’ve been better off taking the T from the campus to my place instead of driving. I wasn’t thinking with the right head and now we’re sitting in bumper-to-bumper congestion due to what I’m assuming is an accident. Any other city and I could take the side roads, but the narrow streets coupled with on-street parking make maneuvering my SUV a bit difficult. So we sit here and wait.
Reaching across the console, I pick up her hand and interlock her fingers with mine. Gazing at her, I let my thoughts run rampant. Her smile is soft, rewarding, and I ask myself if I’m doing everything I can in this short amount of time to show her how much I like her and want to spend all my free time with her. Or does she just see this as a casual hook-up because the thought of sleeping with her, while at the forefront of my mind, isn’t a be all that ends all. I hate that we’re rushing back to my place for our first time. I’m not even that guy who has to do the whole song and dance either, but I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. She’s too important to me.
There’s something else bothering me...finding her looking at the BoRe Blogger page at the library. She knows that I was ready to give up on even being her friend when she brought up rumors. Stupid on my part, yes, but I don’t need that shit hanging over my head or her questioning my motives because of what some dumbass who doesn’t even know me decides to write about me.
I bring her hand to my lips and place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. She smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek. Acting like this with each other makes us seem legit,
but I can’t be sure that’s how she feels and I don’t want to be lame and ask her if she wants to be my girlfriend. Do men even ask that question anymore?
The longer we wait in traffic, the more frustrated I become. I can’t get the image of her looking at that website and quickly closing the window when I walked up behind her out of my mind. Why would she do that when she knows how much that site bothers me?
I decide to take the next exit and risk the narrow streets just to get to my place faster.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her head darting from side to side as we cruise by buildings and brownstones.
“I thought you wanted to go back to my place.”
She cracks a smile and asks, “Are you in a hurry?”
Her question catches me off guard because if my memory serves me correctly, she jumped me as soon as we got in the car. She was the one who started grinding on me. I know I asked her in the library if she wanted to get out of there, but I did so because I didn’t want either of us to get into trouble. The last thing I need is some report being circulated that I was busted for making out in the library while taking media classes.
“Um… why were you looking at that website?” The question is out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying.
Daisy runs her fingers along the nape of my neck, taking time to answer. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but either way, I don’t like it.
“It’s part of an assignment for my class.”
“What class?” I know I sound defensive but I can’t help it. The BoRe Blogger has been anything but kind to my teammates and me. It’s one thing to post about the game, but to post gossip and rumors is a completely different thing.
Third Base (The Boys of Summer #1) Page 11
