Me: Could we get in trouble for this? The last thing I need is for my name to appear in a headline about a teacher who was caught trespassing on school grounds with a very hot major league baseball player because she’d passed out due to exhaustion and he had to call an ambulance. Because that ambulance thing could totally happen. Don’t be surprised. You’ve been warned!
Drew: I was given a key by Coach Thompson. I promise we won’t get in trouble.
Me: Give me ten.
Drew: That really means, like, fifteen to twenty, right?
Me: Good boy. This thing we have going on is really on the right track.
Drew: ;-)
I throw my phone on my couch and head to my room to start getting ready for what I’m sure will be an absolute butt-kicking.
When I arrive at the high school, I see the gate slightly open with his car parked right next to it. I park and make my way through the entrance and to the bleachers, heading to the track.
He doesn’t notice I’m here yet, so I take this opportunity to really check him out for the first time. He did in fact wear his gray sweatpants along with a sleeveless shirt. The way his pants hug him in all the right places makes my chest tighten.
He’s wearing the same ball cap he wore in the first picture he sent me. I don’t know why, but that makes me smile. I’ve always envisioned a down-home country boy with his favorite cap as one of my dream guys, and yet here’s this professional baseball player standing in front of me. He’s not country. He’s not down-home. But yet that cap … it’s perfect.
I open the gate more, and it catches his attention.
He jogs toward me and then stops and grins from ear to ear. “Hi.” He waves, and it’s the cutest, most awkward thing ever.
“You know, I’m sure it’s okay if we stand next to each other. I’m not that worried about it,” I say as I take a step closer.
We’re still ten feet apart at least.
His expression falls. “I really wish that were the case, but with my mom”—he takes a deep breath—“I just can’t risk anything.”
My heart swoons at his concern over his mother. I smile big. “Then, at least six feet apart we shall stay.”
He nods and pulls up his right leg behind him, stretching his quads. When I don’t follow his lead, he eyes me. “It’s good to stretch and warm up your legs before we jump in.”
I sigh and do as he does. “You’re lucky you even got me out here. Don’t push your luck, golden boy.”
His smirk is priceless at my choice of nickname for him that I read online.
He runs me through some stretches and warms us up before he says, “Okay, you ready?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Why am I doing this?”
“Because you like me?”
My lids fly open, and I’m graced with the most handsome face I’ve ever seen grinning back at me.
“Maybe.” I point my finger at him. “We’ll see how I feel after this attack on my lungs.”
He tilts his head to the side, showing which way he wants to run, and I begrudgingly move my feet.
Thankfully, he starts off slow, and I find a rhythm.
“So, what kind of music do you normally listen to?” he asks like we’re sitting on the couch in my living room and not running around a track.
I give him the evil eye. “I. Can’t. Really. Talk. Right. Now,” I say a word at a time through each breath.
He laughs, and to my surprise, he slows down. “Then, let’s not run so fast. In order to keep a good pace that you can sustain for a long time, you should be able to hold a conversation during your run.”
We proceed, and I thankfully find it more doable, so I finally answer him, “I like everything.”
