She steps away until our hands part. “Okay, play well.”
“I’ll try.”
She smiles and waves until she’s back in her house, and I get into my truck, forcing myself to drive away from her.
Once I’m in my hotel room for the night, I should be trying to get some sleep for tomorrow, but instead, I text her.
Coaches always warned me about girls like you.
I watch the bubbles appear and disappear a few times, but I wait for her to reply before I say anything else. I laugh when I see her response.
Girls like me?
I smile as I type.
Yeah. Girls who take up that space in your mind that should be focused on the game.
I hit Send and wish to God I could see her reaction. I mean every word too. I can’t stop thinking about her, even though it scares me a little that she takes up that much of my focus.
I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
I laugh out loud, though I’m completely alone, and there’s no one to hear me.
It’s a great thing for me. For my game? We’ll see tomorrow. Wish me luck.
You don’t need luck. Go be you. That’s what got you here.
Spoken like a true mom.
She sends me a winking-face emoji, and I know it’s the perfect thing to end our conversation, or I’ll continue to text her all night.
The next morning, we hop on the bus from the hotel to head to the field. I sit in my seat and instantly pull out my phone to see if she texted me. I hover my thumb over the text box, thinking of what I should say.
“Are you texting the girl you brought on the field the other day?” Gunnar says as he plops down next to me.
I eye him with a smirk, but don’t answer.
“Well, fuck.” He drops his head back, sighing, then looks at me again. “You’ve got it bad. Who is she?”
I chuckle as I stare at my phone. “My hairstylist.”
He laughs like he thinks I’m kidding, then turns to face me when he realizes I’m not. “Wait, you’re not fucking with me, are you? I thought you said you were single during spring training?”
“I was.”
“Oh, she got you like that?” His eyes open wide. “How long have you known her?”
I smirk. “What’s today?”
He smacks my arm. “Has it even been a week?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, no.” He stands to move seats. “I’m sitting elsewhere. That shit can rub off on a guy. I’m good.”
I stand to push him as he moves seats, then sit back down to get back to trying to figure out what to say and decide just onMorning, so she knows I’m thinking about her. Then I tuck my phone away to focus on the game.
I’m thankful I was able to push my thoughts of her aside and ended up having the game of my life, going three for four and making two diving catches in the outfield. When I get back to my hotel for the night, it’s pretty late, but I still pick up the phone and call her anyway, hoping she’s awake.
