He tossed me over his shoulder and took me to his room. He gave me a shirt to sleep in, gave me a spare toothbrush and a washcloth, and let me get ready for bed after he did. Now I’m snuggled into his warmth with my eyes closed and ready to pass out.
“I’m exhausted.”
“I bet,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Needless to say, the guys really like you. You totally earned their approval tonight.”
“You think?”
“Without a doubt. I’d be surprised if they don’t try to stake claim on you tomorrow if I fuck things up with you.”
“Oh, you think I have my pick of any of them?” I playfully tap my chin, pretending to think long and hard about it. “Let’s see. Who would I want to be with? Well, Romeo has quite the reputation of treating the ladies well, and Orson, well, who can get over those catcher’s thighs? And then Gunner, just seeing him grip the ball does all sort of things to me.”
Silence.
Chuckling, I turn in his arms and face him. His brow is pinched together and he has an unamused expression. I press my finger between his brow. “You know you’re the only one I really want.”
“Wouldn’t hurt you to say it every now and again.”
Laughing, I grip his sides, his steel muscles flexing beneath my touch. “You’re all the man I will ever need, Carson.”
“And the other guys are mere peasants compared to me.”
“They shouldn’t even be in the same ballpark as you.”
“And their penises are tiny.”
I groan, of course. It always comes down to the penis with guys. “I can’t agree with that, I haven’t seen their penises, or yours for that matter.”
“We can change that.” He squeezes my backside. “Want me to take my briefs off so you can stare at it?”
“As appealing and magical as that seems—a total opportunity—I’m going to pass. I don’t want to examine your penis with tired eyes.”
“That would be a huge mistake, letting you go all in without a sharp perspective. Good call.” He pulls me in tighter and nuzzles his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you for coming over and getting to know the guys. It was probably intimidating.”
“A little. I was really nervous at first, but it felt like I fell right into step with them. And hey, I’m sorry about the whole pickle debacle.”
“No, you’re not.” He laughs, his minty breath heavy against my skin. “I actually think you took great pleasure in busting all of our balls tonight. It started with the pickles and it ended with showing us up at stickball. Your swing is actually pretty incredible.”
“Thanks. I mean, it’s not amazing, but it can get the job done, and I figured if I’m going to teach I should at least have a decent swing. Practicing with my brothers was one of my favorite things.”
“And yet you didn’t play softball. It’s still so weird to me.”
I shrug. “I was passionate about baseball. What I really wanted was to play with the boys, but my high school wouldn’t allow it, no matter how good I was. Kind of shitty.”
“Kind of? If you want to hang with the guys, why not?”
“Because girls have softball. If I wanted to play the sport then I was told to try out for the softball team. And don’t get me wrong, softball players are badass. If you make one mistake, the other team can gain a mile. And the game is so quick and fast-paced. But the two sports are different, and I’ve always been into baseball more. It’s weird, I know.”
“No, I get it. I really do. The mechanics are different especially when hitting. In baseball, the pitcher’s arm is falling down, creating a different spin. With softball, they work the up and the down, the left and the right, there’s a different perspective, and if you wanted to be an expert in one, might as well choose the one you love the most.”
I sigh. “That’s why I like you so much. You get me.”
“You like me sooooo much?” he teases.
“Maybe, yeah.” Thankfully my back is to his chest so he can’t see my blush. “What about you? Do you like me sooooo much?”
“Hmm.” He thinks about it like a jerk and when I elbow him, he laughs and kisses my shoulder. “Yeah, I like you sooooo much. You’re one of a kind, Milly, and you’re all mine.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
CARSON
“Will you stop fidgeting? Jesus Christ, you’re driving me nuts,” Jason says as we make our way to the Brentwood baseball stadium.
We just graduated.
We weren’t handed our actual degrees but we’ll slip the actual piece of paper in the fancy, pillowed folder later when it comes in the mail.
Now, I’m going to meet Milly’s family.
And . . . I’m nervous as shit.
I didn’t even want to walk today; it felt stupid since I didn’t have anyone there to watch me. Dad couldn’t get the time off, and I understand. I’ve always understood when it comes to my dad’s work schedule. I’m just hoping he can start to slow down now I’m out of college and will hopefully be drafted soon.
I promised him the first thing I’d buy with my signing bonus is a new truck for him. He told me not to be frivolous and to put it into savings, but there’s no way. My dad drives a rusted old Chevy on its last cylinder. When I was back home during Christmas break, we spent an entire day trying to get the clunker to start working, to last a few more years as my dad put it.
After everything he’s done for me, everything he’s sacrificed, he deserves a new truck, and I want to be the one who gives it to him.
Jason took some pictures for me in my cap and gown, and I sent them to my dad, letting him know I love him and that I received the care package from him. It was full of hot sauce from our hometown in Kansas and some cookies from Mrs. Wethering across the street. The lady is super nice but her cookies leave much to be desired. I really think she mistakes salt for sugar most of the time.
I’m still waiting to hear back from Dad. I asked Jason to walk me to the meeting point, because I’m a chickenshit. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.
Scratch that, I do.
This is the first time I’ve ever met my girlfriend’s family. I have zero practice where this is concerned and since it’s such a huge baseball family, I’m nervous they might not think I’m good enough for their daughter. Hell, Cory Potter is the family superstar. That’s some pretty huge talent to live up to.
And Cory won’t be there. I already asked and checked his schedule. He has a game in Pittsburgh tonight.
Kind of glad, because I’d feel so intimidated. Happy as shit, but intimidated.
“Do I look nervous? I feel nervous.”
“Yeah, you look like an idiot, so stop touching your collar.” Jason swats at my hand. “They’re just people.”
“People I want to like me.”
“Please, one look at those baby blues and they’re not going to be able to resist you.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan. “Nothing you want to say about my personality?”
“Yeah, actually.” I perk up. “Don’t show it, or you’ll come off like a real douche.”