“Please,” Jason scoffs. “Not to sound conceited, but I’m pretty sure any girl would want to go out with us.”
“That is conceited. And even if any girl wants to go out with us, I don’t want that kind of attention because they’d be in it for the wrong reasons.”
“Yeah, you’re damn right about that. Hopkins got that girl pregnant his junior year and is now paying child support with his big-league money. To a girl he doesn’t even know.”
“Yeah, dumb move.” I pick up a ball and start tossing it in the air.
“Milly isn’t that kind of girl.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. She seems laid-back. Cool. No drama.”
He couldn’t be more right. The most I’ve ever seen her become slightly emotional was when she was delivering my glove and even at that, she was just genuinely upset. I still can’t get the image of her tears filling her pretty eyes out of my head. Haunts me. I hated seeing her that upset.
“Nah, she’s cool. I honestly can’t think of one thing I don’t like about her. She’s different from any girl I’ve met. She’s not into the girly crap and doesn’t care what her hair looks like on any given day. She’s real, she’s smart as fuck, and she’s funny.”
“Okay . . . so why is it so difficult to ask her out again?”
“Because.” I lean back on the couch, stare at the ceiling and toss the baseball above me. “She acts like a friend, one of the guys, rather than someone who’d be interested in dating me.”
“Yeah, well, you never know until you try.”
“And what if she says no? That won’t be awkward while she’s watching me swing a damn bat.”
“Then I guess you have a decision to make. What’s more important? Her knowledge or her soul?”
“Her soul?” I lift a brow and glance at Jason. “That’s deep.”
He taps his temple and says, “Not just a pretty face. I have some depth to me.”
Later that night, when I’m lying in bed, trying to figure out what I want to do, I pick up my phone and consider sending her a text.
Ten o’clock. She’s still got to be up, as we’re young and in college. I bite my bottom lip, contemplating my options.
I want to talk to her. I’d prefer to hear her voice, maybe even FaceTime, but I know we’re not at that level, at least she’s not. I’m rearing and ready to go, to put this relationship into a full-on sprint. I want to get to know her more. I want to get to know the girl beyond baseball. I want to know her favorite movies, what makes her cry, what makes her laugh. I want to know about her dating life, her first kiss. Is she still a virgin?
Before I can stop myself, my fingers start typing a text to her and I hold my breath, hoping she’s awake.
Chapter Forty-Nine
MILLY
“That was so embarrassing,” I say, laughing into the phone just as a beep sounds off, indicating a text message.
“Okay, I get it, I’m a dumbass,” Cory says, groaning over my persistent teasing. “I’ve been getting shit from the guys all night, and I don’t need it from my sister as well.”
I laugh into the phone and rest my head against my pillow, sinking under my covers. “I’m sorry, but you shamed the family. You let a bunt go between your legs. A bunt, Cory.”
“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ve seen the replay at least ten times by now.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I have no idea. I honestly can’t remember anything about the play. Thankfully it didn’t cost us a run.”
“Just your pride. You’re going to be on the Top Ten Worst Plays on ESPN, and I bet you stay there for a while, just like the time Mark Sanchez had a butt fumble when playing for the Jets. They had to retire that worst play because it was number one for so long.”
“This won’t go that long. Maybe a few weeks, but it’s not butt-fumble material.”
I twirl a piece of hair around my finger. “You better hope so.”
“Okay, enough about me. What about you? Did you get my package?”
“Yes, and I’m pretty sure you gave me enough caramel M&M’s for my entire floor.”
He chuckles. “That was the point. Tell the students to leave you alone and just chuck a package at them. What about the leggings, did you try them? Cheryl said they’re the best out there.”
“Not yet. I’m not a legging kind of girl.”
“Have you even tried them?”
“No,” I drag out.
“Then you can’t say you don’t like them. Just do me a favor and try them on at some point, okay?”
Sighing, I say, “Fine, but you don’t have to turn me into a fashionista, you know.”
He barks out a laugh. “Mills, a pair of leggings is not even cracking the mold of fashionista. I’m just trying to get you to wear something a little more modern. You have great legs, show them off.”
“That’s a really weird compliment coming from my brother.”
There’s a thump against my wall and then some laughing. I’m almost positive the girls next door are drunk and have been drinking in their dorm since seven, but I don’t have it in me to go bust them. I’m far too comfortable in my bed.
“Someone has to hand you a compliment, which reminds me . . . how are things with Stone?”
My body heats up from the mere mention of Carson’s last name, or even the thought of him. When he text me the other night, after his road trip, I seriously thought something was wrong, but when he handed me a package of M&M’s, I don’t think I’ve been more confused in my life. That was until he wanted to sit down and talk.
It was new, different, and made me feel . . . weird.
I know, not the best reaction, but it’s truly how I felt. I didn’t know what to do with my limbs, how to act, how to answer questions. A wave of heat erupted over my skin and with every move I made, I felt self-conscious. I was awkward and I know I was short with my answers, but honestly, I had no idea what he was doing at my dorm at night.
There was a brief moment where I thought, maybe, just maybe, he was feeling something for me other than our friendship, but that was completely squashed when he gave me a playful shove and called me Coach. Honestly, who am I kidding? There is no way in hell Carson Stone will ever have romantic feelings for me.
Ever.
“He’s doing awesome. Had a great weekend out on the field. We have a session tomorrow and I plan on working—”
“I’m not talking about his hitting. I’m talking about things between you two. Has he made a move?”
A loud and very wet snort shoots right out of me. I wipe at my nose, thankful I’m alone. “Oh my God, no. What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with him? You’re telling me he hasn’t made a move on my beautiful sister yet?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. You’ve lost your damn mind. By no means am I anywhere near Carson’s type.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Uh, no? When would that even come up?” In a nervous voice, I say, “Oh hey, Carson, I was wondering, am I your type?” I laugh. “Yeah, I would never ask that, not that I’m interested in him.”