Page 30 of Praising the Pitcher

I look from him to the box and let out a long sigh. “Okay, you know what? Fine, I’ll try it. I’ll see if it changes my life.” Leaning forward, I grab a slice from the box, leaving it with just two remaining. I take a bite, feeling Noah’s eyes on me as I chew.

I’ll admit, it’s pretty good. But I’m not sure if that’s because the pepperonis are small and crispy, making it delicious even without the sweet pineapple, or if it’s actually the combination of the two toppings. But as someone who has only eaten pizza a handful of times in my life, it tastes pretty damn good to me.

He’s so proud of his pizza and it’s honestly adorable. I have to stroke his ego a little bit; after all, he dropped everything he was doing today to get to the diner.

“All right, you’re right. It’s good,” I say, smiling. “Good job, King.”

His grin spreads, but then he rears his head back slightly. “I think you’re stroking my ego a bit, but that’s okay … I like a good stroke.” The words come out in a smooth drawl just like everything else this guy says. He knows what he’s doing, and he loves it too.

My face burns, and I cough a few times awkwardly. Not because I’m choking, but because he has the ability to make me lose my cool. On the mound, I may be calm, but around him? Nope. That goes out the window.

I look around the room, desperate to change the subject when I see his laptop, a textbook, and some paper on his desk.

“Were you doing homework when I called you?” I say, suddenly feeling bad. As a student athlete myself, I know how hard it is to find time to work on things. We have to squeeze it in whenever we can, often times when we’re absolutely exhausted.

He glances over at it. “I was working on something, but trust me, I’d much rather be with you than working on that shit. You did me a favor, Smoke.”

He’s too selfless at times, I think. Right now, he should be working on his assignment, but instead, he’s babysitting me. I wonder how much this happens in his day-to-day life. Is he always the guy who’s just cool with things because he doesn’t want to let anyone down?

It kind of seems that way …

“When is it due?”

“It’s fine⁠—”

“When is it due, Noah,” I demand, and this time, it’s me cutting him off for once. “For real.”

He sighs, like he’s been caught or something. I don’t think the school part of college is his favorite thing, but despite what people may believe, Division 1 athletes still have to get their work done.

“Tomorrow,” he finally utters. “Really, it’s fine. I don’t have much left to do anyway.”

“Finish it,” I say sharply, not allowing him to tell me no. I appreciate that he dropped everything to come help me, but I won’t be the reason he fails this assignment. “I grabbed my Kindle when we stopped at my car on the way home.” I reach into my bag, grabbing it and holding it up. “I’ve been dying to read more of this book anyway,” I assure him, nodding toward his desk. “Really. Finish your work. I promise, I’m good.” I flash him a reassuring smile, holding my Kindle up because there’s nothing I love more than diving into a book, and right now, it seems like the perfect time.

One thing that will always calm me down when I’m having a rough day is getting lost in a good story. My heart is still aching because my dad has truly never taken it as far as he did today, but I know escaping to a fictional world will help take the pain away. At least for a little while.

It seems lately there are two things helping me get through life—Noah King’s charm and swoony book boyfriends.

Maybe it’s because they share similar qualities …

“Kinda wish you would ask to get naked with me or something instead,” he deadpans, like he isn’t saying something inappropriate at all. “Anything to save me from writing my paper.”

I keep my face as straight and unfazed as I can possibly manage before rolling my eyes at him for being the way he is. “Shut up,” I grumble, situating myself on his bed like this is my place or something. “Do your work.”

Eventually, he goes to work, and I pick up where I left off the other night. It’s not easy to be unaffected by Noah King, so I quickly bury my nose in my e-reader in hopes that I’ll stop picturing him naked, and instead, read about a male main character banging his girl against a window overlooking an entire city …

And yet, as the filthy words roll from the fictional dude’s mouth, it’s Noah’s lips I imagine saying them out loud.

Subtly shaking my head at myself, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and try to paint the picture of the guy on the cover instead of the one across the room from me. It works too.

For about ten seconds anyway …

NOAH

Within half an hour, I’m done with my paper—and thank fuck because I hate writing about shit I don’t actually understand or really even want to understand. I highly doubt this Intro to Shakespeare class will come in handy down the road, but hey, what do I know?

Closing my laptop, I glance over at Gigi, taking in the sight of her lying on my bed, fully entranced in whatever she’s reading. We may not have anything sexual going on between us, but I still enjoy her in my bed for whatever reason.

I’m torn between telling my sister we’re friends who’ve been hanging out and not saying anything at all out of fear that if Gigi gets attached and ends up getting hurt, Haven will once again feel awkward around her friend, and I hate even thinking about that.