Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1) (12 page)

I
can’t get Daisy off my mind. She’s in my dreams at night. When I wake, she’s there in the images that I’ve stored in my mind. I see her in every woman I encounter. It’s getting to the point where every smell, every color, even every freaking pizza topping reminds me of her. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, or where I am because I see her
everywhere
. It’s a curse. That’s what I’ve determined, because with each thought comes another one that takes me down a path I have yet to travel with her.

The other night after our dinner date, I tried to drive her home. She wouldn’t let me and I didn’t force the issue. I like her too much to be that guy – the one who is demanding and overbearing. She’s been riding the trains and walking the streets a lot longer than I have; I can’t come swooping in to save her like some kind of superhero if she’s not asking to be saved. Sadly, not being able to drive her home also meant no good-night kiss. I don’t want to settle for some cheapened peck on the cheek while standing on some street, or on the subway platform. I want to hold her in my arms. I want to caress her face and let my lips linger over hers until neither of us can wait any longer. I want it to be something for her – for us both – to remember.

I also want to stop sounding like a girl. This is the shit I used to make fun of my sister about when she’d ask me to take those stupid tests from her magazines. As much as I try not to, I can’t help but think of Daisy as this delicate flower. I don’t know if it’s because of her name, or the fact that I’m so damn attracted to her, that this mushy shit is flowing from me and I can’t turn it off.

Tonight, the kiss is happening. It’s her birthday and I can’t think of a better way to cap off the night than a good-night kiss. Actually, I can think of about ten other ways to end the night, and if I can get her to come back to my place for a small birthday party, I may try to make them happen.

I grab my phone from my bedside table and scroll through my contacts until I find my mom’s picture. It’s of her holding Shea while my mom beams with pride. I press her name and she picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Ethan.”

“Hi, Mom.” I’ve never been one to open up about my feelings, but there’s a first time for everything. I don’t know how to tell if what I’m feeling is lust or genuine feelings, and I’m hoping my mom can help me figure it out. I can’t compare Daisy to Sarah – I’ve tried – it’s not working. They’re completely different.

“You had a good game last night.”

“Thanks. We’re still not doing that well. We’re already behind and it’s only April.”

My mom sighs and I can hear her moving around the room. The sound of a door closing makes me wonder if I’ve woken her up.

“Dad says the team is young and you guys have a lot of rebuilding to do. You’ll be fine, it may just take a bit longer than you expect.”

“Yeah, but I’m impatient and used to winning.”

“Well, everyone has to grow up eventually. You can’t win everything, Ethan.”

I want to ask her why not. I’m Boston’s most eligible bachelor. Surely I should have whatever I want when I want it. Isn’t that part of having this title? I want Daisy, yet I have a feeling that if I don’t act fast enough I’m going to be friend zoned. The problem is, if she’s giving me a sign, I’m obviously missing it and finding excuses as to why I shouldn’t kiss her whenever I have the chance. Something is holding me back. It’s as if I’m stuck behind bars and unable to reach her, even though she’s right there.

“I need to ask you something, but I also need you to keep it between us.”

“I’m all ears,” she says, but there’s a hint of worry in her voice. I’d be worried too, I suppose, if my son said this to me.

I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly as I close my eyes and prepare for her reaction. It doesn’t matter that my mom is three thousand miles away; she’ll be giddy and want to know everything about Daisy.

“How did you know you were in love with Dad?”

The slight intake of air on the other end tells me she’s smiling. Knowing my mom the way I do, she has her fist clenched and is doing her own impression of Arsenio Hall. My only fear is that, given our history, she’ll think that it’s Sarah, and I don’t want to disappoint her.

“Is it the girl the BoRe Blogger has written about?”

I go silent and wish I could hang up on my mother. However, I’m sure that action would have her on the next plane out. I’m never too old for a spanking according to her.

“Ugh, Mom, why do you read that garbage?” It’s not all garbage. The BoRe Blogger is fairly accurate with his baseball knowledge, but the gossip part is what kills me. Why can’t the blog be about baseball and only baseball? Why must our personal lives be subject matter?

“I can’t help it.
You
aren’t forthcoming with a lot of information and the BoRe blog is. Besides, why are you only now telling me about this?”

“There was nothing to tell.”

“Then why do you think you’re in love?”

I stand and walk over to my bedroom window, the line of cars parked along Marlborough Street in the Back Bay make it hard for people to drive down the road. Horns honk and people yell, most of them in their Boston accent, making me laugh and cringe at the same time. I love where I live. I love my neighbors and they like me, even after my Twitter incident. My place is small, but perfect for me. I
do
long for a house though, with a yard… for a dog…

“Because…” I pause and try to gather my thoughts. I take a deep breath and spill. “This is going to make me sound like a girl, but here it goes. When I look at her, Mom, I see sunshine and happiness. I see someone who is the light at the end of what used to be a dark tunnel. And I know that sounds cliché, but there’s no other way I can describe it. It’s the way she smiles, and the way she watches the game and can carry on a conversation. And her sports knowledge is second to none. It literally scares the living daylights out of me that she may know more about baseball than I do, so I’ve steered clear of any sports talk. I think about her every day. Everything I see reminds me of her. It’s like… I want to call her at random times in the day just to hear her voice. It’s driving me crazy, but in the best possible way. I want to touch her and by that I mean even just hold her hand… I just… ugh.”

“Ethan, it’s okay. I’m not asking about what you’ve done with her.”

“That’s just it, Mom. We haven’t even kissed. I’ve held her hand, and that’s it. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“And I’m sure she appreciates your efforts.”

Well, I’m glad someone does because my freaking Johnson doesn’t appreciate anything I’m trying to do. He’s constantly carrying a semi each time she’s around – but this is all shit I can’t say to my mom.

“Oh Ethan, it sounds like you’ve really fallen for this girl and I can guess from what you’re telling me that this is different from your relationship with Sarah. To answer your question, I just knew. Everything will just feel right, from the tips of your fingers to the end of your toes, every bone in your body will gravitate towards her. Your father was my every thought. He still is, even today.”

“Right now, Daisy is my every thought.”

“Daisy,” my mom sighs when she says her name. “I like that name.”

Me too, and I’ve been trying to come up with a nickname for her, but nothing seems to fit. I thought about calling her D, but then my jackass teammates would be saying shit like “She wants the D”. It’s funny but crude. I don’t think she’ll appreciate it too much.

Before my mom and I hang up, I tell her about my plans for tonight and promise to send her a photo of us all dressed up. She asks me to tell Daisy ‘hi’ for her and even though I agree, it’s not gonna happen. It’s far too early to bring parental units into our relationship.

The team has sent a car and driver for tonight. I couldn’t be happier because that means I can focus my attention on Daisy when she gets in the car. I thought about driving to her neighborhood after she gave me her address, but figured she’d catch me and it’d piss her off. She’s embarrassed by where she lives and I don’t know how to convey to her that shit like that doesn’t bother me.

As we drive, I’m constantly looking at my watch. I want to see how far she lives from me. I don’t know why it’s important except that I have a great amount of hope that she’s going to be spending a lot of time at my house and I want to know how long it’ll take me to drive her home every night.

Seven minutes. That is how long it took us to get from my house to hers.

“Is this it?” I ask, slightly confused.

“Yes, sir,” he says as he looks at the GPS mounted on his dashboard. I look around and nothing screams low income. I don’t know what she was going on about the other night, but this looks like a place I’d live in.

“Alright,” I say, as I get out of the car. I contemplated buying her a corsage, but felt like that would be overkill and more like prom. I did, however, buy her a birthday cake in hopes that she and I can have a little celebration tonight after the dinner.

As I approach the door I notice a keypad. I drag my finger down the names, looking for Robinson, but don’t see it. I step back and look at the address before pulling out my phone to match it with the address she sent to me. As I unlock the screen I notice a message from her. Shit, she wants me to call her so she’ll come down, instead of me going up to her door. I don’t like that it isn’t as personal as meeting her at her door, but I’m left with no choice.

I start to dial when I see an elderly woman with almost blue hair and a cane walk out.

“Hi, excuse me. My name’s Ethan Davenport and I’m here to escort Miss Daisy Robinson to the Boston Rotary dinner tonight. Do you happen to know which apartment is hers?”

She eyes me up and down before lifting her cane. I think for a moment that she’s about to beat the shit out of me until the driver of my car steps out.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“No, ma’am,” I say, shaking my head. I still have a feeling she’s going to hurt me. I keep that thought to myself though. It’s a fear I have. Daisy’s been closed off. She’s held back even though I’ve pushed. She’s going into this relationship with an advantage over me. I’m a public figure but she’s an enigma.

“You’ll find Daisy in Three C, but if you hurt her...” She trails off, pointing her cane at me and huffing before walking down the street. I nod to the driver that I’m okay as I step inside the building. The hall smells like urine and there are kids screaming at the end of the hall. A wooden staircase is off to the right, with built in mailboxes on the left. I walk down the hall, hoping the elevator is in service, but as my luck would have it, it’s not today.

“Three flights of stairs in a tux, no problem.” I take the steps two at time. The second floor gives me a long hallway to walk down before I have to climb the next set of steps. This floor smells better, but is messy. There are toys in the hallway and one resident has their door decorated for the holidays, which are still eight months away.

When I reach the third floor I stand straighter and fix my bow tie. I hate that I’m empty-handed and should’ve asked my mom what to bring that wouldn’t be considered stupid and over the top. My stroll to her door is casual with my hands in my pockets to help control the twitching.

The black C is mocking me as I stand in front of it, poised to knock. My knuckles wrap on the door twice before I lean against the doorjamb, trying to play it cool. A flash of black catches my eye as the door swings open. I swallow hard when Daisy stands before me, as the fingers in my pocket pinch the shit out of my leg, trying to make my mouth work.