Of course she does, asshole. You gave her full access, and you’ve been gone for ten days.
“I don’t think it helped that the DICs didn’t get one hit the entire game. They’re definitely in a slump lately. All three of them.”
“You watched the games?” I fiddle with the back of the breakfast stool, contemplating if I should sit or not. Is this what people do? Am I being presumptuous that she wants to talk to me if I sit down? Maybe she just wants to make her popcorn and go back to her room.
“Yeah, my brother plays for the team.” She chuckles.
“Of course.” I was a fool to think otherwise.
“I’m kind of invested in all of you. And in my opinion, Blue messed up two of those calls. Greer was out before he ever got that hit.”
I’m not sure the last time I talked game to anyone outside of coaches and teammates. She’s not trying to placate me with things like “it’s just a game” and “the shitty comments don’t matter.” I like it a little too much.
“That’s what pissed me off so much.” I immediately regretted showing my emotions on the mound. Although I didn’t yell at Blue like I normally would, I saw the replay. Hayes calling time right away and coming to visit me on the mound. Me giving the ump a death glare and mouthing off, just not directly to him.
“I saw, but you had good reason. You guys lost because Blue called that one pitch a ball when it was right on the outside corner.”
I slide up on the stool, and she takes the popcorn out of the microwave and puts it in a bowl. Then she places it between us.
“Did you eat on the plane?”
“We did, but who can say no to popcorn?” I grab a fistful, and she gets up on the counter, legs crossed. “Your brother got me addicted back in Seattle.”
She laughs. “It’s kind of a Carlisle obsession, honestly. I feel like it was a nightly snack in our house growing up. So now every time I want to get cozy and watch television, I make a bowl.”
I turn to look at the family room area and see that the television is paused. There’s a blanket thrown on the back of the couch. “Oh, you were going to watch something? Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” I slide off the stool. “I can give you some privacy.”
She chuckles. “Stop. I don’t need privacy.”
I’ve never felt like such a fool. I palm the back of my neck. “Oh.”
She chuckles again. “It’s weird, right?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve lived with a woman.”
She slides off the counter, and I’m surprised by the disappointment I feel. I would’ve enjoyed a little more time with her.
“You lived with a woman?” Her shock takes me a minute to figure out—she assumes it was a romantic partner.
“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I moved in with my dad when I was eleven. He wasn’t big on comfort items.”
She picks up the bowl. “I see. Well, now that you have a woman’s touch back in your life, you might not ever want to go back.” She smiles. “Want to join me and watch some reality television where we can worry about other people’s drama instead of our own?”
I don’t want to interfere, and I’m not sure where the line should be drawn. Sure, she’s here because I want to know her better, but how much should our lives intertwine?
“Um…”
She places the bowl on the table and walks back over to stand in front of me. It’s really unfair how hot she is. I mean, your best friend’s little sister should not be this fucking attractive.
She says, “Go get changed into comfy clothes and come watch. I’ll explain who everyone is to you.”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do in there?” She motions toward my bedroom. “Brood over the loss? Think how things should’ve gone differently? Let me take your mind off it.”
I know a way she could get my mind off it.
She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head, waiting for my answer.
