Page 14 of Saving The Shortstop

That makes me frown. “What?” I whisper. “What are you even talking about?”

He stares at me, his head hanging in a way that I haven’t seen since he was a boy.

A boy who had finally found his new family but was still very much living in the past.

“My grades are bad, Haven. Like … really bad.” He pauses, reaching his hands up and resting on the top of his head. A slit of his abdomen above his sweatpants band peeks out, and I hate that my eyes immediately drop to take a look. I hate even more that my mouth waters.

Lucky for me, he’s so engrossed in what he’s trying to tell me that he misses my pure desperation.

“I’m going to get kicked off the football team if I don’t get my shit together.”

Forcing my eyes upward, I narrow them. “What does that have to do with me?” I shake my head, confused. “And why would my dad make you come here?”

His head rolls back and he looks up at the ceiling. I open my mouth to repeat myself, but before I can, he looks at me again.

“Your dad says you’re the best tutor there is at NEU.” His cheeks turn redder by the second. It’s never been a secret to me that school isn’t Dallas’s strong suit, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. “He said you could help me.”

His deep voice comes out in hardly a whisper. The big, strong, confident man is gone, and even though I wish it didn’t, it’s killing me that he’s this self-conscious about asking for help. The truth is though, I stopped tutoring because I didn’t have the time for it. Between softball and my own school load, it was too much.

My dad knows that too.

I’ve made it this far without falling apart when it comes to him because I’ve put a wall up around myself. A wall where he has limited access. A wall that allows me to act indifferent some of the time. Doing this may be good for him … but it’ll be absolutely detrimental for me.

“I haven’t tutored anyone in quite a while, D,” I whisper, pushing my palms down against the bed nervously. “I know a lot of people who would be more than happy to help you.”

His eyes stare at me. Though they flash with resentment, I can see the pain too.

“You don’t get it,” he mutters before turning away. “You know what? Never mind, Haven. I should have known better than to come to you with this.”

For years, he’s called me Short. When he calls me Haven, it’s when he’s pissed or being serious.

Before I can force my mouth to speak, coming up with some lame excuse to cover my ass for why I can’t help, he storms out of my room. The look in his eyes—the hurt when I didn’t immediately say yes—flashes over and over again in my mind, and before I can stop myself, I’m running after him.

He’s already outside by the time I get to the door, and I slide my Birkenstocks on and rush behind him, catching him as he heads down the porch steps.

“Damnit, D,” I blurt out. “Wait! Would you just wait!”

His shoulders tense as he hits the last step, and though he doesn’t turn around to face me, he stops walking away.

Since I was twelve, I have been in love with this boy. And once again, here I go, putting him before myself. I know it’s the right thing to do, but fuck … it’s going to be so hard.

“I’ll do it,” I huff out. “I’ll tutor you, okay?”

DALLAS

Since the moment I met Haven at the park, right from the first day, I’ve known one thing to be true. If at least a tiny part of her doesn’t want to do something, she isn’t going to do it. So, when she runs after me, saying she’ll be my tutor, I know that for whatever reason, she doesn’t want to say no. At least not one hundred percent of her. Maybe just ninety-nine. But that one percent? That’s what’s going to keep my ass on the team.

Slowly, I turn to face her. I try not to let my eyes roam over the way her oversized NEU hoodie makes it look like she isn’t wearing any shorts. Because if I allowed myself to really look, I’d be entranced by those strong, sculpted, thick legs of hers. And right now, I can’t ogle the girl who is going to be my tutor.

“Really?” The word comes out in practically a rasp. A pathetic, weak rasp. Maybe it’s because I’m desperate. Or maybe because Haven King is agreeing to help me. A girl I’ve thought the whole world of for so long while always pretending to find her annoying. “Thank you, Short. I know that you’re busy. But I really appreciate it.”

That can’t stop now either. Just because she’s helping me, I still can’t let her in. I’ve made it through our childhood friendship by being the shallow asshole. Now, I need to pivot while still keeping her at arm’s length.

She leans on the post at the top of the porch steps. “Yeah, I mean, whatever.” She shrugs, playing it off like it isn’t a big deal. “Dad has high hopes for this season. I’m not going to be the one to take it away from him.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Don’t make it a thing.”

I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. “Thank you again, Short. I mean it.”

I want to hug her, but I don’t. Mostly because if I did, I wouldn’t want to let go.