Page 42 of Saving The Shortstop

“Well, just catch the flu and then bam, your wish shall be granted.”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs. “Yeah … something tells me that wouldn’t work quite the same for me.” She purses her lips together, like she wants to say something but is nervous. “The dude wasn’t there just because he has a sickness fetish or something, Have.” She cocks her head to the side. “He’s got a fetish for someone else. And I’ll give you a hint, she’s the cute shortstop for NEU.”

Popping a piece of gum between my lips, I ignore her because the last thing I want to do right now is get my hopes up when it comes to Dallas Rivers. I’ve done it far too many times in the past, and it’s always been the same story.

He’s just not into me like that.

Thankfully, Coach calls us all over for the real work to begin so that Gigi doesn’t have time to put any more ideas in my head. I need to remember that we kissed once, and it meant so little to the guy that he didn’t remember it.

So, no. I’m not going down this road again.

DALLAS

I step back, looking down the field as Noah takes off running, still shocking the hell out of me with his speed. I snap the ball, and it spirals through the air. If we nail this, Coach said we’re done for the day. If we fuck up, we have to run it again until we do it right.

We’ve already run it too many times for me to count. This one has to be perfect. And when Noah catches it beautifully in his hands before running in for a touchdown, I sigh in relief because truthfully, I’m nearly out of energy.

The blow-up mattress I got isn’t quite like sleeping in a normal bed. Coach would kill me if he knew that I was fucking up my sleep situation, but I also can’t tell him the truth because saying, Hey, Coach, I need to stay with your daughter to protect her from your fuckhead player, but I have to sleep on a blow-up mattress because if I’m in bed with her, I wake up with my dick pressed against her ass …

Yeah. I don’t think he wants to hear that.

The past few days, I’ve lucked out and missed Tabor at practice because Coach has been running separate sessions for some of us. It’s worked out, because I don’t think I can physically look at him without wanting to kill him. But I can’t let him get away with what he’s doing, so I’ve been trying to think of how the fuck to break into his phone to find out if he really does have pictures of Haven or not. I need to find a hacker to help me do it, but it can’t be just anyone, because I don’t want this shit getting out into the world. It has to be someone I trust and who I know would keep it to themselves.

“All right, go shower the smell of ass off of ya,” Coach King calls from the sideline. “And for the love of fuck, Rivers, get some rest tonight. You’ve been dragging today.”

“Yes, Coach,” I say just as Noah jogs my way, and together, we head off the field.

“He’s right, you know,” he huffs out, guzzling his water. “You are dragging. It’s your fault we had to be here this late.”

As we walk into the building, he stops before we make it into the locker room.

“I’ve stopped into The Tower three times the past few days. Your truck’s home, but you aren’t there.” He looks me up and down. “Are you avoiding me or what?”

I can’t tell him about Tabor. At least, not yet. Because that’s his sister, and he’ll lose his mind. I need to figure out a plan before I pull him into it too. But I can tell him at least part of the truth. I need to because right now, I feel like shit.

“Haven was super sick with the flu the end of last week,” I finally say, not nearly as boldly as I usually speak. “And since she’s been tutoring me and everything, I just … wanted to help her get better. That’s all.”

Years ago, I probably wouldn’t have been sweating this way because I wouldn’t feel like I was hiding anything. Well, besides the kiss. But now, I feel like I’m hiding a fucking mountain of shit. And not just the truth about Tabor and Haven, but also how much I’ve depended on being around her to keep myself happy lately.

“You and my sister like … a thing or something?” he finally says, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

I could tell him that I wish we were. Or ask him if he’d be okay with it if we ever were—if she wanted to be, that is. That’s what someone who wasn’t a fucking coward would tell his best friend.

I am a coward though.

“What?” I say, shaking my head and taking a sip of my water. “No way. But she’s helping me out. Besides, she’s family.”

“You sure?”

I drag a hand over the top of my head, instantly regretting it because I’m fucking sweating.

“Yeah,” I say, matter-of-factly.

I take another drink, trying to pull the attention off myself before I smack his arm.

“Let’s go shower. You smell like ass.”

For a few seconds, he stares at me like he didn’t believe a word that just came out of my mouth. Thank fuck though, he finally starts walking into the locker room as I follow close behind.