Page 52 of Praising the Pitcher

“Wow,” I say, my head bobbing up and down mindlessly. “I can’t believe your mom is Fastball Johnson.” I say her nickname shamelessly because if I ever have a cool nickname like that, I’ll know I made it.

“Yep, pretty cool.” He takes a sip from his drink. “Anyway, would you ever want to go grab coffee or dinner or something?” He’s so confident when he talks, and his blond hair that looks like it’s been highlighted by the sun even though it’s December in New England is parted in the middle. It’s like he ran his hands through it, making it perfectly tousled.

He’s easy on the eyes, for sure.

“Oh I don’t—” I start to say, but before I can finish, Haven, of course, steps in.

“She’d love that.” She looks at me. “Wouldn’t you?”

I don’t know why she wants me to hang out with this dude, but either way, I find my shoulders shrugging. “Yeah. Sure, that would be great.”

A few guys come up behind him and tap his shoulder in attempt to get his attention, but before he turns around toward them, he holds his finger up. “Give me a second?”

I nod awkwardly, because … why would he think he needs my permission to have a second?

Once he’s occupied with what looks like some fans, Haven grabs my arm. “Give him your number,” she whispers, rather aggressively. “He’s cute and Dallas hasn’t complained about him, so he must be okay. Oh, and the poor guy got injured the day after he transferred here. That right there deserves something.”

“He didn’t ask for my number,” I hiss. “I’m not going to just⁠—”

“Sorry about that,” he says, forcing my words to stop before they leave my lips.

“It’s all good. Maybe you two should exchange numbers. That way you can set something up.” Haven’s words come out smoothly, and I think it should be criminal to sound that damn confident. Then again, I think I’m a little jealous.

“For sure,” he drawls, taking his phone out and handing it to me.

With my cheeks on fire and my legs feeling weak with nerves, I take it and type my number in before handing back. As smooth as butter, he takes it from me, then hits the screen before bringing it to his ear.

Right away, my phone starts ringing in my back pocket, and when I see an unknown number and his face grinning at me, I know damn well it’s him. The whole thing is a little cheesy, yet he manages to make it cute.

Sliding my thumb across, I bring it to my ear even though he’s a mere two feet in front of me, and I can hear his every word.

“Hey, it’s Benny.” He grins. “Now that I have your number, I wanted to ask you … can I take you out sometime?”

Even though I want to look at Haven so she can somehow calm me down, I don’t want to look like an inexperienced weirdo. So instead, a slight smile tugs at my lips and I shrug.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to sound cool and confident, the total opposite of how I actually feel right now.

He hangs his head dramatically, though his white teeth are still exposed as he smiles. Lifting his head back to me, he cocks it to the side. “All right, I’ll settle for that. As long as it’s not a no.”

“It’s not a no,” I whisper, feeling heat creep up the back of my neck. “Nice talking with you. We have to go catch up with some friends,” I say, tugging Haven’s hand before she can ask what friends and rat me out.

And as we walk around him, I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my lips because for the first time in my life, I felt like maybe someone wanted to pursue me.

That smile dies quickly when I’m met with Noah’s eyes …

Which look a whole lot angrier than normal.

NOAH

Well that fucker moves fast …

Gigi gives me a polite wave as she heads toward me, but my eyes move to the dude watching her as she leaves, staring at her like a creep with his phone in his hand. I walked in halfway through what I assume was them exchanging numbers, and now, all I want to do is slam his face against the coffee table.

I’m forced to tear my eyes from him and put my thoughts on hold when my sister and Gigi stop in front of me.

“Good game tonight,” Gigi says politely, though it’s bullshit.

“Is that what you really think?” I ask, trying to keep the anger out of my tone because she’s a single woman. She’s free to talk to whoever she wants—even though I fucking hate it.