His eyes harden, jaw clenching again. “She was my girlfriend first. We have history.”
I don’t smile like I naturally would to keep the peace, but I don’t make a show of looking angry or annoyed either. I just blankly look at him, and funnily enough, he squirms a little. Is he nervous?
“Well, now she’s your ex and one day she’ll be my wife. She moved on; it’s time you do too.”
His eyes widen and I swear he looks defeated, but then he rolls his eyes. “Whatever. She downgraded anyway.”
Bryson stalks off, his face blistering red.
Gray stands next to me, but he doesn’t say anything, too enthralled in whatever’s on his phone. No, I think he looks annoyed. That’s new.
“What’s up with you?” I ask him.
“I hate group projects. Hope whoever created them is burning in hell.” He furiously types on his phone. “Fucking Christ, I’m an athlete and I still get my shit done. What’s everyone else’s excuse? Now my grade is going to be shit because she—I swear she’s been a pain in my ass all semester. Thank God it’s almost over.”
Kai and I lock eyes, wondering what that’s about. Grayson is everything but ever actually mad. An arrogant little shit bydefault but never angry and never because of a grade. But what he’s feeling is valid because I’d be mad too.
My gaze snaps to the door when Angel steps in. He looks a little disheveled and out of it.
“You good?” I quizzically stare at him.
A crooked grin grows on his face. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m really fucking good.”
I realize now he looks sated, not zoned out. Right, he’s all about superstitions. “Please don’t tell me who the girl was. I really don’t want or need the details.”
“I wasn’t planning on sharing.” He winks at me. “It’s good to have you back,papi.”
It’s good to be back.
Being out in the field is still weird, but the lump in my throat doesn’t feel heavy. Even the weight on my chest feels fairly light. Jarvis said it’s normal but also said the only way it wasn’t going to get worse or spiral into a panic attack, was to accept out loud what I feel.
It felt ridiculous at the time, but now that I started talking about it, I feel better. The guilt still lingers, but every day does feel lighter. And now that Josie’s back in my life, I’m happy. I’m okay, not fine, but I’m okay.
I finish signing a couple of jerseys then slide down the line.
“Hi,” the girl says, wearing an oversized jersey with my number on it. “I’m a really big fan.” She twirls a wisp of her hair around her finger. “Can you sign my jersey?” She gives her back to me.
“Hey, yeah, no problem.” I sign the inside of the number.
She rubs her glossy lips together, and a cunning gleam shines in her eyes. “You want to write your number while you’re at it?”
“I’m very taken.”
“That’s a bummer.” She clicks her tongue, leaning over the padded railing, showing me her cleavage. “You want my number in case things don’t work out?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m very in love with her.”
“I’m very in love with my vibrator. Doesn’t mean I can’t use a different one,” she whispers. “I also have this baseball. If you’d rather write your number here.”
I wet my lips, puffing out a breath. “Okay.” I take the ball from her hand and scribble something on it. “But this stays between us.”
“I promise.” She raises her right hand then takes the ball. She reads what I wrote and huskily laughs.
“Hey!” Pen shouts, holding her phone up. “Let me take a picture before you have to go.”
“What do you say, number six?” Josie sits on the padded railing. “We can put them in one of the picture frames you bought.”
I slip my arm around her waist and stand taller. Pen takes a multitude of pictures then waves me off before she goes to take her seat next to Vienna.
