Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1) (18 page)

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.

F
ucking 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.

“Sports media. It’s for a research paper,” she says and I want to believe her, but surely her professors would require a reputable site and not some random blog that isn’t reporting the facts.

“What’s wrong with ESPN or CBS Sports?”

In a rare occurrence in the City of Boston, I come upon a parking spot that doesn’t require me to parallel-park and I take it. Putting my SUV in park, I turn in my seat to face her. I can’t read her expression because I’m not very good with this girl shit.

“I don’t understand why you don’t like the BoRe Blog. It’s funny and informative.”

Is she serious right now? “It’s anything but, Daisy. He posts rumors, falsifies information and publicly outed you. Nothing about that blog is okay.”

“Are you just angry because you think the blogger picks on you?”

“No, Daisy, I’m not,” I say sharply. “I’m pissed because I asked you not to look at that shit and when I come to surprise you, you act like I caught you doing something wrong. It’s not a lot to request.”

I don’t know what’s happening here, but now I’m fucking pissed. Daisy turns and looks out the window, ignoring me. I know it’s stupid to fight over a blog, but the shit that particular blog publishes is a sore subject with me and she knew that. I thought it was a fairly simple request that she not read it but apparently I was wrong.

When she takes out her cell phone and starts doing whatever the fuck she’s doing, I know the conversation is over. I put my car back into drive, heading back onto the road, and instead of going to my house I take her home.

“I can’t believe you’re pissed off,” she says as we turn onto her street. Truth is, neither can I, but I am.

“If that blog didn’t post about my friend’s failing marriage, or how many times I adjusted my cup, I might take it serious... but shit, Daisy, it’s
not
fucking news.”

“Yeah, well, my friends and I like it. So what if they post how many times you pick your nose or the fact that Bainbridge is cheating on his wife? It’s newsworthy to the fans. It makes us feel like we know you.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” I stop abruptly in front of her apartment, failing to put my car in park. “Whatever is going on in Steve’s life isn’t news and if they’re getting a divorce they certainly don’t need some half-assed blogger posting inaccurate shit that’s none of anyone’s business. God, why can’t you see it’s wrong?”