He even griped about the choice of color. I chose navy over charcoal and that’s apparently disrespectful because, oh who the hell knows. If I chose the charcoal one he would have complained that it wasn’t black.
I’m feeling more and more claustrophobic and this crisp, white, overly-starched button down might as well be a straight jacket. I unbutton the top buttons and turn my neck side-to-side, blowing out a stalled breath as I attempt to reset knowing I still have a few hours of this before I can leave.
“So, Ethan, do you follow baseball?” Quincy asks with a respectful, easy going tone.
Only with my entire soul.
I may not put on the games anymore but I still secretly look up all the highlights and details, following all the teams, players, and stats. I know more about the MLB than I should, I just don’t get the chance to talk about it anymore.
Fortunately my father sees someone hemustsay hi to and excuses himself.
“I do. I have my whole life,” I respond directly to Quincy with a modest tone because I don’t want to seem overly excited about this conversation.
“Me too, me too,” Quincy quips, excitedly, like we just became best buds. “What do you think of Hudson Byrnes?” He hikes his thumbs over his shoulder as he turns his back to me, his jersey sporting the name BYRNES.
“Oh man, his minor league stats were unmatched. Coming back from an injury like that and maintaining the numbers he did…” I shake my head, “Unbelievable. I think I did a secret happy dance in my bathroom when the Smashers picked him up last year.”
I continue spouting off facts and details of all the players. Both Quincy and I rally back and forth about historic plays and our favorite games. I don’t know how long it’s been, but the team is finally warming up on the field and the suite is getting a little more crowded.
Slipping off my jacket, I drape it over the chair in front of me, getting more comfortable as I roll my sleeves up over my forearms.
“Ethan!” my father yells yet again, but this time it’s not as curt, there’s an eagerness to it that tells me he’s with someone super important and I need to be on my best behavior.
I turn my body in his direction, preparing myself for anything. Except I was wholly unprepared for the sight ofhim.
Dane hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s looking over attheChristian Ford, CEO of Ford Enterprises and leaseholder of this baseball field. My gorgeous professor is chuckling and patting Christian’s arm like he just told him something funny.
I look to my left and right for an escape but I can’t get away and when I look back at my father the threat behind his gaze is serious.
Fuck.
“Excuse me,” I say to Quincy and take a step toward their huddle. It’s my father, Christian Ford, and DanefuckingCampbell.
I step into the empty space completing the circle. Dane’s eyes flicker my way, back to Christian, then his head snaps back in a double take, his smile fading.
“This is my son, Ethan Russo. Ethan, this is the CEO of Ford Enterprises, Christian Ford.” Giving my father a wiseass glance for the unnecessary introduction, I miraculously hide an eyeroll as I shake his hand with a smile. “And, obviously, you know Dane Campbell,” he says, turning as he snaps his fingers at one of the banquet servers.
“Do I?” I say sarcastically, with only enough volume to be heard between the two of us.
Seeing him here now, dressed casually in a baseball jersey, beer in hand, is similar to how I remember him in Paris. His shorter hair is a reminder that it’s not thesameguy, this version is currently my professor. But it’s not styled like it is during class, it’s messier and stupidly sexy. He looks a bit more carefree and his shoulders are at ease. His whole demeanor is a stark contrast from the tense Dane that I’ve grown to know over the last few weeks as my professor.
Still, I hold my hand out trying to remain as professional as possible in front of my father, clearing my throat and speaking louder. “Of course. Good to see you, Professor.”
A smirk crosses his face and I have no idea how to read it.
“His accolades, awards, and contribution to our world is truly extraordinary. I hope you know how lucky you are to have him as a teacher,” my father adds.
Dane’s smirk grows, then he winks using the eye hidden from the view of Christian and my dad and I can’t help but clench my jaw at his cockiness. There was a part of me thatloved seeing it in Paris. Now, I want to punch that confident look straight off his stupid, kissable face.
My father turns his body toward the waitress and starts spouting off drink orders.
Dane leans in and says, “I see you have to be on your best behavior. This is gonna be so much fun.”
35
DANE
“Stop fucking around,” Ethan threatens me while his father isn’t paying attention. “This is serious.”
