Page 57 of Praising the Pitcher

I grow stupidly and embarrassingly bashful, and I shrug. “I … already did actually,” I murmur, knowing he’s probably going to make a huge deal out of this. He knows how out of my comfort zone it is.

His brows pull together and he looks me up in down. “For real? Or are you fucking with me?”

Reaching to my side, I pat my shirt. “No, I’m so for real.” I laugh awkwardly. “Spur of the moment, for sure. But here I am.”

He’s almost taken back, and I’m not sure if it’s in a good way or not.

“Can I see it?” His eyes move to where my hand just was.

I look around, thankful everyone seems to have piled in the other room where the parlor had some refreshments out, and I gently tug my shirt up.

“It’s got the clear stuff over it, but you can still see it,” I all but whisper, swallowing thickly when I expose the words and turn my body toward him.

He stays frozen, almost like he doesn’t hear me or maybe doesn’t believe it before slowly, he bends down.

His finger touches the skin under the bandage, but not where the tender skin is. “Stand tall.” His voice is a raspy whisper. “Wow, Smoke. I love that.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “Margo said I should think of something that has meaning to me.” I shrug and breathe out a laugh. “This is what came to mind.”

His eyes roam the words for a few seconds longer before he stands up straight again. I avoid his gaze, but that doesn’t last long until I’m staring up at him.

“I’m so proud of you for doing that, Gigi,” his deep voice whispers. “Truly.”

“Thank you,” I say, chewing my lip. “Are, uh, you going to get one?”

His lip twitches and he slightly shakes his head. “Nah. Not today. I told the guys if we win the championship this year, I’ll get an eagle with them though.” He jerks his chin up toward behind me. “Jameson wanted to come. Something about a dare or some shit.”

My eyes grow wide, but I giggle. “With that guy, it’s hard to say, really.”

“You aren’t kiddin’,” he answers. He opens his mouth to say something again just as a hand claps my shoulder.

“All right, Jacobs. It’s time for us to get out of here.” Margo stands beside me now. “This is a girls’ bonding … thing or whatever you call it. And now all the guys have arrived, and they’re loud and annoying.”

“Agreed,” Lilly says, coming beside Margo. “Let’s go back home, take pictures of our fresh ink, and watch Love Island. Isla, Harley, and the others said they were leaving soon, so they’ll be right behind us. Isla said she’d stop and get us McDonald’s!” She practically squeals at the end even though the chain name alone makes my stomach churn. “Mickey D’s and Love Island. How can you beat it?”

“Yum to McD’s. No to Love Island,” Margo deadpans. “Would you settle for, like, true crime?”

“Ummm, no.” Lilly shakes her head. “No, I would not.”

“You suck,” Margo grumbles. “Meet you out by the—” She pauses, and when I look over at her, I find her eyes straight ahead wearing an unimpressed expression on her face. Following her gaze, I frown when I see one of the sweetest guys on campus, Cash Hale, walking in. Before I can think about what that means, she pulls her gaze from him. “Meet you outside. Hurry up.”

“Or take your time,” Lilly utters with a wink, following behind Margo.

“That was weird,” Noah murmurs, his attention now solely on me. “If you’re not ready to leave, I can give you a lift home.”

I stare up at him like a deer in the headlights. To be honest, I could hang out with him all night and be content. I could tell the girls I would meet them back at the house—after all, I got the damn tattoo, what more do they want. I’m not going to do that, though, because I don’t need to be hanging out with Noah and getting more attached to him. The way my heart skipped a beat and started racing when he got here proves space might be what we need—even though I hate it.

I flash him a small smile. “That’s okay, I should get going.” I hold my hand up and wave gracelessly because that’s what happens when I’m in his orbit. “You have a fun night, King. Don’t do anything too wild.”

I wait for a funny reply of some sort, but I get nothing. Instead, he simply nods in understanding and utters to get home safe, and the disappointment that strikes my chest nearly has me grimacing, but I fight it off.

Turning quickly, I head out the door and away from Noah. With my fresh ink I know he’s responsible for me being brave enough to get.

I just can’t tell him that.

TWENTY-ONE

NOAH