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Luckily, Hagan answers the door and not Logan or I would never hear then end of it. His eyes widen at the sight of me. He leans against the door frame. “Hey. Logan’s at practice.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Umm, no I came to see you.”
His dimples make an appearance but then fade to a half-smile. “Oh. Do you want to come in?”
“No.” I hold out his phone. “You left this behind.” When he wraps his hand around the phone it surrounds my hand. The pads of his fingers skate against my skin, producing an unexpected hunger in my gut.
The sound of his voice sounds miles away like we’re in a storm and I can’t hear him over the thunderous pellets of water striking a tin roof. Except it’s not water beating, it’s my heart.
His raspy voice taunts me when he says, “Thanks, you could’ve given it to your roommate.”
“Ginger was going to the baseball house; it was easier for me to bring it to you,” I claim, as I notice the way his body fills out his black athletic shorts and how they stretch across his thighs when his knee crosses over the other. “Bad things happen when I go there.”
A concerned look spreads across his face as he finally slides the phone from hand and into his pocket. “Well, I appreciate you making a special trip. I can’t believe I hadn’t realized it was missing. Can I buy you an afternoon snack at the cafeteria to thank you?”
I laugh. “That’s not repayment, the food is already free for you.”
“True, but we could talk and I could explain…”
Cutting him off, I say, “You don’t owe me an explanation about what I saw at the baseball house. I have to get home. I’m babysitting for my coach tonight, but thanks for the offer.”
He smiles. I smile, but my feet don’t move. He seems content to let me walk away first, so I swivel around on my good foot, limp to my car, while arguing with myself about why I can’tdoathletes.
ChapterEight
Hagan
It’s game day.All my roommates will be taking the field today. Of course, Logan is the face of the entire athletic program. He’s not only the quarterback but the leading candidate for the Heisman Trophy. We’re only three weeks into the season, but if he keeps up at this pace, he’ll demolish the record books for the Stallions.
Mac is only a freshman, but Logan has been working with him so much outside of practice, the coach told him to expect to play today. Mac says his first love is football, but baseball is a close second. The dude can ball.
Joe knows I’m into Adalee so we come up with a plan so I can spend more than five minutes with her. I drive over to the home run house to pick up Joe, Ginger, and hopefully Adalee. She told Ginger she was a firm maybe. What is it with this girl? She’s not like anyone I’ve met before.
It’s been a few weeks since I officially met her in the weight room and she returned my phone, but over a month since I first saw her face. When we talk after class or in the weight room, she does her best not to let her gaze meet mine, but when she does, I see fireworks in her eyes. She likes me because two things always happen—she blushes, and she breathes more rapidly.
Knocking a few times, another baseball player answers the door. “What’s up, Chatham?” Athletes have a pension for calling you by your last name.
I ask, “Are you going to the game? Happy to give you a ride.”
“Nah, my girlfriend is sick, so we’re going to watch it here. Come on in.”
I walk in and he steers me to the back patio where all the Adirondack chairs circle a fire pit. I haven’t been here since the night of the party.
“Hagan, have a drink with me!” Joe yells.
“Can’t. Driving about a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of scholarships to the game,” I insist and get a few laughs. I clap my hands and rub them together. “Is everyone here that’s riding with me?” I look around and Adalee is nowhere in sight.
Ginger speaks up. Her hair is a dark fiery red and straight, neatly tucked behind her ears. She’s a little taller than Adalee, and Joe has been fucking gleeful at fall camp. “Adalee is using the restroom.”
I nod like I could care less, but the truth is my dick springs to life at the mention of her name.
“There she is,” Ginger says, jumping up from her seat. “Let’s go.”
My body swivels and I see her. Adalee is as graceful as she is gorgeous as she waltzes into the room. Her brown hair is all the way down. She has on a royal blue knit dress that ties around the waist, and cowboy boots with her leg brace. I can’t help the upward turn of my mouth. She looks good enough to marry.
Wait, I mean eat.
When she sees my apparent approval, her eyes roll so far back in her head, I have to turn away. The whites of eyes gross me out after my older sister made me watchThe Walking Dead. I’m a pussy about Halloween and scary movies.
