Page 56 of Saving The Shortstop

“Rivers, get your ass out here!” the assistant coach hollers, and I know it’s time to go.

“Hey, Short?” I say, knowing I’m about to sound like an idiot but not giving a fuck. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

“What would give you that idea, QB?”

“Well, you’re wearing my jersey and all,” I say, looking around to make sure no one is close by. I see her mom standing along the fence, talking to Coach, so I guess it’s safe. “Plus, you’ll be in my bed later. Hopefully wearing nothing but that.” I wave to her top. “I’d say that makes you my girlfriend.”

Her cheeks redden but not with embarrassment as much as from grinning so deeply.

“I haven’t been asked a question, Rivers,” she says playfully. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

I look down, smiling like a goddamn idiot. I’ve never asked anyone to be my girlfriend—ever. It feels cheesy and pathetic, and yet here I go because I want her to be mine. And I want everyone to know it too.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” I nod. “What do you say, Short? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’ll think about it,” she yells down to me, pausing. “I guess it depends how you play tonight, QB.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her. “All right, fine,” I say, and with my helmet in my hand, I look up at her one last time, eating up the fact that for the first time ever, it feels like she’s here to see me play and not just here to support her brother and dad.

She waves, and even though she didn’t give me an actual answer, I jog onto the field, planning to play one hell of a game so that she can only say yes.

But even before I make it to my team, I have to look back at her wearing my jersey.

Just one last time to soak it in.

HAVEN

“The jersey and all, huh?” My mom bumps into me as we wait for Dad and the guys to be done with the after-game festivities that have to occur. “You’re really going all in for people who haven’t officially told anyone. What is Dad going to think of this when he sees you after the game?”

I stiffen, side-eying her because honestly, I hadn’t really thought of that yet.

“I’m just out here repping a friend.” I shrug, knowing damn well my mom knows that’s bullshit. “No biggie, right?”

She’s silent for a few seconds, but I can feel her gaze still on me before she throws her head back dramatically.

“Girl, you’re really out here, hard launching the shit out of your relationship before even telling your family?” Finally, I look at her, and she’s shaking her head. “You’re a little bitch, Haven King.”

Right when she calls me a little bitch, I know she isn’t actually mad. Despite what most parenting books probably say, my mom loves to call me that as a joke.

“Well, we aren’t, like, official or anything,” I defend, ignoring the fact he asked me before the game. I didn’t say yes, so I’m not lying. I wanted to, but the guy could use a little humbling after I’ve practically thrown myself at him for days. Then again, they just won. And I did make a deal with him.

“Are you mad?” I ask, chewing my bottom lip.

Putting her arm around me, she leans her head against mine.

“Baby girl, you and D have only had eyes for each other since you were scrawny teenagers,” she tells me, and my heart swells because … I didn’t know she knew. “You might give each other a hard time and taunt one another to the point it drives the rest of us batshit crazy, but one thing we all could always depend on is if one of you needed something, the other would always be there.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when your brother ran into you on his bike, and you ended up needing twelve stitches in your leg when you were thirteen?” she asks softly. “Who carried you up the hill and inside?”

“Dallas,” I whisper.

“And when Dallas had his first birthday with Uncle Lane and Aunt Memphis, they went all out, having a huge party, and when Dallas was overwhelmed, who found him a quiet room and came in to announce to everyone that he wasn’t feeling well and that the party was over?”

“Me.”

“What about when you were home alone when you were fourteen and decided to cruise my car up and down the driveway and you put it off in the ditch?” she says, and now, my eyes are flying at her because how the hell does she know that? “Who didn’t tell a soul but helped you get it out by pushing the car while you drove it?” She smiles. “And then washed it after just to be safe?”