He’s right that the specific type of sparrow-lark my creature prefers isn’t native to North America. It’s a North African bird species, but so few people know their birds that it doesn’t really matter.
“So, what do you do with these pictures? Post them on your socials?” I ask as casually as I can manage. The last thing I need is him posting a picture of my signature neon-green eyes online. I doubt Andrew could find me from that alone, but I don’t want to take any chances.
He huffs a laugh. “Nah. I don’t do social media. I just take pictures because I enjoy it. Occasionally, I’ll print them out to decorate my room or gift to my family. You big into that kinda thing?”
It’s my turn to bark out a laugh. “Nope. I don’t have a single account.” And it has to stay that way if I want to keep my freedom. Charlie and Coop have both deleted their accounts, too, just to be safe.
Colt raises his wrist and checks the time. “Fuck, I’m running late. I gotta leave now, or I’m gonna miss the game. It was nice seeing you, Lark.”
He hurriedly untangles himself from me and starts jogging over to his bike parked right next to mine. I instantly miss the feel of his warm, hard body against mine, but I push that down. I’m supposed to be forgetting about him and his friends, not pining over the feel of him.
Disappointment tries to rise up at having so little time with him, but I squash it. This is for the best. “It was nice to see you, too, Colt.”
At my voice, Colt stops what he’s doing and stands next to his bike. His shoulders are bunched up and tense as he seems to think through something.
Turning toward me with a sheepish grin, Colt leans against his bike and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Actually, would you have any interest in coaching a Little League baseball game with me? My assistant coach is out sick, and I could really use the help wrangling fifteen teens and preteens.”
“Yeah, sure.” I find myself agreeing before I even have time to think about it.
I internally sigh at myself. I’m trying to become less of a people pleaser. Automatically agreeing to whatever Colt wants is just falling into the same pattern, but I can’t find it in me to care when I’m lost in his blue eyes.
He rewards me with a blinding smile. “Really? Awesome. Thanks, Lark. You’re doing me a huge favor. You good to follow me? We need to go straight there to make it on time.”
“Yep,” I chirp as I hustle over to my bike. I place my backpack on the seat and unclip my helmet. I also pull out my gloves and zip up my leather jacket.
Colt shrugs on his own riding jacket before grabbing his helmet. “Let’s connect our comms in case we get separated.”
“Sounds good.”
Once we’re connected, we both get onto our bikes. Colt pulls out ahead of me, and I follow him down the winding back road, enjoying the feel of my machine under me and the air whipping around me.
“You know much about baseball?” Colt’s voice crackles over the speakers in my helmet. I know he’s probably shouting to be heard over the wind, but his voice sounds whisper quiet. With my shifter hearing, I can make out what he said without much effort.
“Yep. Charlie’s brother played baseball through college, so I used to spend a lot of weekends in the fall and spring going to his games. I’d also play pickup games with other kids in the neighborhood sometimes.” My lips tilt up in a small smile at the memories of Charlie, their parents, Wren, and me cheering on Coop.
“So, what you’re saying is you could coach this team perfectly fine on your own? I can just take the afternoon off?” Colt teases me.
I snort. “Not quite. I know how baseball works, but I’ve never coached anything in my life.”
Thinking about it now, I’m pretty sure it was a terrible idea to agree to help out. I have no idea what to do with one teen and preteen, let alone fifteen of them.
Some of my anxiety must leak into my voice because he rushes to reassure me. “You’ll do great, sweetheart. I can tell.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. I feel my cheeks heating, and I’m glad I’m wearing my helmet so Colt can’t see it.
The rest of the ride is fairly silent, aside from him giving me directions. I enjoy the wooded scenery and Colt’s quiet companionship as we ride through the back roads. Eventually, we start riding through the outskirts of Willow Bend.
It’s only a few minutes until we reach the baseball field complex. We wind through the fields before coming to a stop in front of the one that I’d guess is where Colt’s team is playing. After parking, I dismount and pull off my helmet.
As soon as I get a whiff of the scents around me, I realize something. “They’re human.”
“Yep. I coach both kind of teams. Is that a problem?” Colt asks carefully, although I can see the disappointment on his face. I don’t know why, but his disapproval is like a gut punch.
“No! Not at all,” I rush to tell him. “I was just surprised. I didn’t think you’d have much in common with human kids, is all.”
Maybe it’s an Oakridge Park thing, but my old streak didn’t ever mix with the humans. My parents were less than thrilled when I wanted to go to a human university after college, but they begrudgingly allowed it.
I have a lot of fond memories with humans from my college days, but I’m in the minority in the supernatural community. Most of our kind likes to keep to ourselves, for a variety of reasons.
