“Why not? He’s cute and rich!”
“I guess, but he . . . I don’t know. He tries too hard and I think he’d flirt with a lamp if he thought he could turn it on,” I said smirking at my own joke. “Besides, I don’t think dating a teammate is a good idea.”
Casey studied me as the warning bell rang. “Well, you need a date for the carnival. So, if you find someone who is your type, don’t forget to take your own advice and make the first move,” she called before flitting off down the hall.
A date?
How was I supposed to manage that?
Grant’s face popped into my subconscious and I shuttered.
Ugh! He was the last boy to ever be my type.
At least that’s what I told myself . . . but my heart had always been more stubborn than my head.
Chapter Twenty
Grant
By the time chemistry rolled around I’d changed my mind about Alex Prince a dozen times. I couldn’t decide how I felt about her. Currently, I was still waffling between loathe and love. I hated the conflicting feelings bouncing around my head. I didn’t know whether I was rooting for her or against her, whether I was going to take the high road or the low. All I really knew was I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The last thing I’d seen at Tyler’s party was Alex, with those perfect long legs of hers perched atop Tyler’s shoulders as my teammates chanted her name. It had cracked something wide open inside me, letting jealousy pour out.
She was the competition. I should want to crush her—not crush on her! But for some reason I didn’t know if I wanted to date her, or destroy her.
Either way, I knew I couldn’t handle another minute at the party.
I’d grabbed Lucas’s keys and drove to the batting cages, where I hit until my palms blistered. Then I dragged myself to the weight room and worked out until I was completely drained. By the time I made it back to Tyler’s party just about everyone had left. Tyler was passed out on one of the couches while Lucas played video games.
In true Lucas fashion, he didn’t ask any questions or give me any crap. He just moved over so I could join in the game and told me there was a bunch of pizza leftover if I wanted any. An hour later, I drove him home and crashed on his couch, hoping a good night’s sleep would bring clarity. But if anything, I was even more confused today. A situation not made better by the heavenly sight breezing through the door to the chemistry classroom.
Alex wore a Diamondbacks jersey over a pair of black leggings that hugged her flawless curves.
Why was it so hot when girls wore jerseys?
Was it because now I was suddenly picturing her wearing a shirt with my name and number on the back, claiming her as my own?
I tried to shake the thought away but I was assaulted by her signature citrus scent as she sat down at our shared desk. I sat mesmerized as she brushed her thick curtain of mahogany hair over one shoulder, quickly weaving it into a braid before trading a pair of red sunglasses that rested atop her head for our chemistry goggles. She must’ve noticed me staring because she met my gaze and steamrolled my heart with one of her smiles.
“Can I help you with your staring problem?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.
A snide remark bubbled up, but I held it back.
Take the high road, King.
“Nope,” I replied.
“Nope? So, we’ve regressed to one-word answers now? I certainly hope your batting average is better than your vocabulary.”
Low road it is!
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing, but then how do we calculate your batting average when you hit a ball twice as big, half as far, softballer?”
Alex’s blue eyes blazed with fury. “Stop trying to be a smart ass, Grant. Everyone knows you’re just an ass.”
Alex
I’d truly come to class today with every intention of burying the hatchet with Grant King, but now all I wanted to do was bury it in him.
Why was he so infuriating?
I was hoping to put last night behind us so we could each focus on our own game at practice today but it seemed Grant was still interested in playing head games and my stubborn pride was too strong to let him get the last word, something that was starting to put my chemistry grade in jeopardy if my teacher’s withering looks were any indication.
When she turned her back Grant leaned closer and slid his phone across the desk so I could see the screen. The Tattler app was open and I read the caption.
Trojan Tattler:
Is there a royal wedding in the works?
Under the caption was a terribly photoshoped picture of the most recent royal wedding with my face and Tyler’s replacing the current monarchs.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Grant whispered. “Guess I should’ve known you’d find a way to buy a spot on our team, even without your dad’s help.”
Heat swept me from head-to-toe as my blood sizzled with anger. “I always wondered who wasted their time reading this thing,” I said pushing the phone back toward him. “I guess it’s entertaining to people who have no social life.”
“What?” he hissed.
I batted my eyelashes at him. “How long were you at the party again? Five minutes before you were humiliated by a girl?”
He huffed. “You can keep your social life. I don’t need it.”
“Oh, let me guess. You’re one of those tough guys who doesn’t need anything but baseball, right?”
He shrugged. “Friends come and go. The game is reliable.”
For a moment, I was speechless as his words struck home.
Wasn’t that exactly why I loved the sport so much?
I often didn’t bother trying to make friends, knowing I’d most likely be onto a new school before I was ready. It was just easier that way.
When you don’t have anyone to leave behind it hurts less.
I studied Grant, his chiseled jaw working angrily as he followed the instructions for our lab assignment. I’m not sure if he’d meant to, but that admission was the first honest thing he’d said to me since he found out I was trying out for his team. And strangely it made me want to call off this war we seemed unable to avoid whenever we were together.
I sighed, still unsure if I was meant to fall for him or fight with him.
“The game is reliable,” I finally said with less edge to my voice. “Maybe we should quit the pranks and insults and let the game decide who’s better.”
He huffed. “That’s a novel idea.”
I slid my hand across our shared desk, putting it in front of the worksheet he was studying. “May the best player win.”
Grant’s stormy gray eyes met mine, suspicion swimming in them. “I’m not gonna give you an inch, Princess.”
“Good. When I beat you, I want to know it’s because I’m better.”
A slow smile carved even more charm into his enticing features. “May the best player win,” he repeated, clamping his calloused hand around mine.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grant
At practice I could still feel the trace of Alex’s hand in mine. A spark had shot through me when we’d sealed our deal to let the game decide who was the better baller. The baseball diamond has broken many an athlete, but I was determined I would come out on top, which is why I’d taken preventive measures to give myself the edge.
Okay, they were petty measures, but still . . .
I’d meant what I’d said to Alex. I wasn’t going to give her an inch. If she wanted shortstop she was going to have to come at me with everything she had, because that’s how I played—all out.
Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t determined to beat her just because she was a girl. Anyone trying to take what was mine would be met with the same ruthless resistance. We may have called a truce today, but there was nothing to be done about things already in motion.
As coach handed out our practice jerseys in the dugout, I found myself watching Alex, wondering how she’d take thi
s next prank, considering it was in direct violation of our most recent agreement to call off our war and let the game decide who was better.
Alex
I unfolded my hunter green practice jersey with pride, running my fingers over the soft cotton as I admired the yellow font proclaiming I was now officially a Trojan. But my reverie dissolved the moment I turned the shirt over to see the name printed across the back.
PRINCESS
You’ve got to be kidding me!
I unfolded the next jersey, and the next. Each one was the same.
PRINCESS. PRINCESS. PRINCESS.
I took a deep breath and counted to ten in my head, falling back on my dad’s trusty destressing technique.
Breathe in. I control my destiny.
Breathe out. Delete negativity.
Grant King would not get to me. I refused to allow it. If he wanted to be beaten by a princess, then so be it. I’d be happy to beat him wearing a tutu and a tiara if it put an end to this insulting behavior. I steadied myself and slowly opened my eyes as Coach ran down his expectations for today’s practice.
Everyone was watching him. Everyone except Grant, who was looking at me with an infuriatingly gorgeous smile that I knew would haunt my dreams.
Grant
It seemed I owed her more credit. I watched her read the intentional misprint I’d orchestrated on the back of her jerseys, but she barely missed a beat, meeting my grin with a smirk of her own. I smiled wider, knowing full well that she’d retaliate, but not now. She had too much pride for that.
She’d meant what she’d said. I’d felt it in that cataclysmic handshake. She wanted to beat me on the field, head-to-head, player-to-player. I was sure there would be some off-field antics, but that was to be expected.
Strangely, I welcomed it. I liked seeing her clever mind work. Each time we squared off it gave me tiny glimpses into her head. I couldn’t get enough and that was my weakness. I needed to stay focused if I wanted to keep my starting position at shortstop. But staying focused on anything other than Alex Prince was proving to be more difficult than I’d expected. Especially with the way Tyler was looking at her.
Yeah, so that probably made me a hypocrite. I was well aware that I occasionally drooled over my dream girl, but the way Tyler was watching her stretch during warmups made me want to smother him with my mitt.
But how could I throw my hat in the ring and keep my dignity?
Alex
I grinned back at Grant whenever I felt his eyes on me. I wanted him to know he wasn’t getting to me. His stunt was stupid and childish. I’d get him back, but now wasn’t the time. Now I was focused on the game and playing better than anyone else on the field so Coach had no choice but to start me over Grant.
I’d meant what I said to him in chemistry. I wanted to beat him fair and square. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t strike back when we were off the field. But I had a feeling that would have to wait because presently a more immediate problem was starting to become clear, and his name was Tyler Bishop.
Tyler continued to give me dopey smiles and slimy winks all through practice. Whenever we were in the dugout together, he made sure to sit next to me, slinging his sweaty arm over my shoulders.
It was obvious that Tyler was a fan of the Tattler dubbing us Northwood’s royal couple. But I wasn’t. That’s not what I was here for, and I didn’t want anyone else making Grant’s assumption—that I’d wormed my way onto the team through Tyler’s heart.
I hadn’t earned my spot on the roster with anything but talent. But how did I make that clear to Tyler without pissing him off? Besides Lucas, he was the first person to accept me on the team. And with his approval at his party, came the rest of the team’s. I didn’t want to hurt Tyler and have him shun me like Grant. I didn’t need more than one hard-headed jockwad making my life miserable.
Grant
Get your head in the game, King.
I did my best to shake off the ball I’d just let bounce off my glove, but it was impossible with Alex on base. She’d been taking a lead off base which had put her perfect posterior in my line of sight, making any hope of focusing on the batter impossible. But having her on third wasn’t any better because Tyler was coaching third at the moment while our relief pitcher got a chance on the mound.
He leaned in closer to whisper something into Alex’s ear; so close the brims of their hats touched. And when she laughed, I couldn’t help but look over, seeing red when I noticed Tyler’s hand on her arm. Of course, that’s exactly the moment Josh Cruz decided to rip a line drive right at me. I tried to rush it, but the ball was coming too fast. My only move was to duck last minute and hope someone had been covering me.
I turned around just in time to see Dustin dive for the ball. He caught it, but not before Alex made her move. She ran with the speed and grace of a gazelle. Dustin hurled the ball to Lucas, but not before Alex slid into home like a pro. She was back up and dusting the clay off her pants before Coach had a chance to finish yelling, “Safe!”
“King!” Coach bellowed. “Get your head in the game. That’s the second ball in a row that’s gotten away from you!”
“On it, Coach!” I yelled, before swearing under my breath.
I punched my glove and shook my head trying to think about anything but the girl who was unraveling my life one play at a time. If I wasn’t careful, Alex Prince would steal more than bases. She’d steal my position and my heart in one graceful stride.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alex
After practice I took Tyler’s offer to join the team at Champs for the obligatory post-practice meal but turned down his offer of a ride. I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. I was only going because this was a team outing. It was not a date!
Instead I got a ride to the restaurant with Casey and Coach Beeler.
When I grabbed a chair next to Casey, I was surprised to see Grant was the only Trojan not in attendance. I scanned the cozy sports bar just to be sure. Our team was gathered at half a dozen tables that had been pushed together in the middle of the restaurant, separating the highbacked green booths from the rich wood of the bar area. Sports memorabilia and local pennants littered the walls. Clear plastic pitchers full of a variety of sodas lined our table and I could already smell wings in the fryer.
Normally, a place like this would feel like home to me, but the fact that a major member of the Trojans was missing made me feel on edge.
Was it my fault Grant hadn’t come?
Maybe I’d missed him. I scanned the busy restaurant again, looking at the faces of my teammates crammed together at our table.
“He’s not here,” Lucas said, sliding into the empty chair next to me, rather than the one Casey had saved for him.
I watched her deflate.
“So, who are you going to the carnival with?” I asked Lucas, hoping to change the subject and rescue Casey’s spirits.
“Why? Are you asking him?” Dustin called from across the table.
Lucas knocked over the pitcher of Coke he’d been reaching for and Casey and I jumped up from the table before getting completely soaked by a tidal wave of soda.
“What? N-no!” I stammered. “I just . . .”
“We should go to the bathroom to clean up,” Casey said, taking my hand to drag me away.
“What the heck was that?” she hissed when we were safely in the ladies’ room.
“Nothing, I was just trying to help you get a date with Lucas.”
“Well, I could’ve managed that kind of catastrophe all on my own,” she joked.
I stuck my tongue out. “Fine, let’s change the subject.”
“Fine, what’s going on with you and Grant?” she asked handing me a wad of paper towels.
“Nothing,” I said defensively.
“Didn’t look like nothing on the field. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Do you like him?”
“Seriously? Have you seen th
e back of my jersey?” I hissed pointing to the letters in the mirror.
“That’s not an answer,” Casey replied.
“I do not like Grant King!”
“Well, that’s good to hear because I need you focused on the game. Besides, it would be a waste of your time.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know he doesn’t date, right?”
“What? Why not?”
Casey sighed. “You really should read the Tattler more. Come on. Let’s get back out there. And this time, maybe let me ask Lucas out,” she teased.
I stuck my tongue out again and we both laughed.
By the time we got back to the table Lucas’s tidal wave had been cleaned up and everyone was deep in conversation. I took my seat next to Lucas again and waved off his apologies.
“It’s fine,” I said for the millionth time. “And just for the record, I wasn’t asking you out. I don’t really want to date any of my teammates.”
He smirked. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Speaking of teammates, why isn’t our captain here?” I asked.
“He never comes to these things.”
“Really? Why?”
“He hits the cages after practice every day.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
I let out a breath, half impressed, half relieved. “Well, it’s good to know he’s not avoiding me.”
Lucas laughed. “Grant’s not afraid of confrontation.”
“So I’ve noticed. What’s the over under he’ll stop hazing me by the time our games start?”
“I’m not the betting type, but if I was, I’d say you’re in for a long season.”
Groaning, I put my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. “Why can’t he just treat me like a teammate?”
Lucas laughed again. “Trust me, he is.”
Playing the Field Page 9
