"You're here late," Cass says from the hall as she enters, smiling.
Disoriented, I blink at her and chuckle. "Oh gosh--it's almost six. No wonder I'm starving. It's just that I have all these books to catalog. It's an embarrassment of riches."
She laughs, her coppery red hair shining in the fading sunlight from above. "Perfect. You can get something to eat at The Horseshoe, if you want to come for happy hour."
When I smile, it comes all the way from my toes. How lucky am I to get to hang out with the town cool kids? I've never beencool a day in my life, at least not to anybody over the age of ten. "I'd love to. Thanks for the invite." I'm already packing up my things.
"I can't have you going home without chili cheese tots and a Shirley Temple, can I?"
"I don't know but I love you for caring about my tot intake." When my computer is shut down, I grab my bag and we head for the exit. My heart does a little flip when I ask, "Who all is coming?"
"Oh, the gang for sure, plus whatever ball players or firefighters happen to be around. Nothing fancy."
I'm not sure who I was hoping she'd say. Wolf Daddy's face springs into my mind first. Tate, who hits on anything with a heartbeat will be there, I'm sure. If my friend Carlin knows we're going, he'll be there too. Maybe I'll text him, my sweet, nerdy friend. He brings me something new to read, and we get to geek out on books and comics. I try to bring him some too, but dang, he's always a step ahead of me. I should put a few books in my car so I've got one to exchange with him next time.
Grey slips into my mind again, back to the spot he's been camped out in since practice the other day. When he corrected be from behind, the heat of his body behind me was so intense, the size of him so imposing. But when he nudged my feet apart with his foot? Christ on a cracker, I almost lost my mind. His hands are huge--when he adjusted my grip on the bat, my hands almost disappeared. Seriously, I'm so touch starved that I'm even making something out of the coach coaching me. He's been nothing but brisk and gruff and curt, bordering on rude.
For some reason, I find it cute.
I think it's definitely safe to say I have a crush on Coach. Never have I felt this kind of flittery, fluttery, stomach flippying attraction. Not like this. Like he's a magnet, and I'm made out ofmetal shavings--when he's close to me, every sliver leans in his direction.
Maybe I should join one of those cuddling groups, the kind where they meet up and just snuggle for a couple of hours to get their endorphins going. I wonder if I'd chill out. Somehow, I doubt it. I've been daydreaming about falling in love and getting ravaged ever since I found my mom's bodice rippers in a box under her bed at age twelve. But my bodice remains heinously unripped. Pristine even. I've never even kissed a guy. Don't look at me like that--I don't know how it happened either. I should probably blame books for keeping me inside. And glasses for being glasses. And a desperate lack of hair styling products for my curl pattern.
Cass glances at me, her lips tilting in a smirk. "You sure got quiet. Anybody you're hoping to see?"
"Who, me? Psh. No." When I laugh it sounds so ridiculous, I flush.
She nudges my arm with hers, smiling broadly. "Oooh, liar--. who's the lucky guy? Carlin?"
He's the safe choice. I like him a lot, so much that he’s become one of my best friends. Just not enough for more than that. "We’re just friends,” I answer.
She gives me a look. “Does Carlin know you’re just friends?”
“Oh, he knows,” I say on a chuckle. “He’s not interested. He dates! Which is a relief, honestly. Feels like I’m off the hook.”
“I get it. I hate that we can’t just be friends with men without having to tiptoe around so they don’t get the wrong idea. The only guys I don’t feel like that about are our guys, but they’re like brothers to me. You know, other than my husband.”
We share a little laugh. “But really, he’s one of my closest friends. I'm real glad I have somebody to talk about books with."
"Hey-- I like books!"
"Yeah, but Carlin is another level."
At that, she laughs. "Fair enough. Plus, he's cute. He's actually beefed up a lot. You should have seen him last year."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. His mama made him join the team when he talked back to her for the last time in Klingon. She told him he had to join the baseball team or move out."
I snort a laugh, following her when she pushes through the double glass doors.
"Turns out, he actually likes playing ball. He even started working out with the guys and putting in extra time and everything. So cute. All right," she says when we reach the parking lot and we part ways. "See you there?"
"Yup. Where's Cricket?"
"My mom got her from school since I had to stay late. Free for the night, woohoo!"
"Woohoo!" I echo on my way to my car, giddy at the prospect of a night out as I climb in. But before I buckle my seatbelt, my phone rings with a video call.
