“Cool. I’ll walk you to class then.”
I eye him warily. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“What?” He gasps. “Fuck no.”
I cross my arms over my chest, and his eyes once again drop to the swells of my breasts. “You’re acting weird.”
“I’m a weird guy, Van.” He forces his eyes up. “You should be used to it.” He cracks a smile.
“I haven’t seen you since last weekend, and now you show up at my dorm with a shirt and tickets to your game, and you really have nothing else to say?”
“Oh.” He holds up a finger. “That reminds me. I brought you cookies.” He takes off his backpack and digs through it, procuring a baggy filled with— “They’re oatmeal. I know snickerdoodle is your favorite, but I made oatmeal this time.”
“Um, thanks,” I take the baggy from him. “Do you ever bake anything besides cookies?” I ask curiously.
“Cookies are my favorite to make, but I can do cakes—can’t decorate worth a shit, though—cheesecake, donuts,” he starts ticking them of on his fingers, “brownies, and fudge.”
“Who taught you how to bake?”
He gets a wistful look. “The cook we had growing up. Her name was Maggie.”
“Was?”
He clears his throat, shouldering his backpack. “She passed a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “Can I walk you to class now?”
Rolling my eyes, I huff a sigh. “You’re not going to leave until I agree, are you?”
“Nope.” He grins from ear to ear.
“Just hold on.”
I leave him at the door, not bothering to invite him inside. Dropping off the shirt and tickets in my room, I grab my bag and meet back up with him.
He takes my hand before I can even close the door behind me.
“Come on, girlfriend,” he declares, swinging our arms.
“So, you’re going to ignore the fact that you’ve been MIA this week?” We take the elevator down and he doesn’t let go of my hand, humming the entire time. “Teddy,” I prompt.
“I texted you,” he mutters, holding open the door for me, “it’s not like I was radio silent. I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“Studying and…”
“And?”
“And stuff.”
Irritation bubbles inside me, but I dam it down because he doesn’t owe me an explanation. If we were an actual couple there’s no way I would let him get away with this, but we’re not, so I let it drop and don’t speak a single word on our walk across campus.
Instead, I look around at the old buildings, the ivy clinging to their exteriors. Wrought iron benches dot the pathways, some with students sitting on them.
Like always when I’m on campus with Teddy people look and stare, the shock of Teddy being in a relationship still not having faded almost three months later.
He drops me off outside my public speaking class with a peck on the lips and another plea for me to come to his game.
I don’t enter my class right away, instead watching his retreating figure. A few girls give him lustful gazes as he walks by, but he ignores them. He keeps moving forward, and instead of the joyful, cocky walk he normally boasts, he’s slightly bent forward, shoulders curled inward, like the weight of the world is upon him.
“I’ve never been to a baseball game,” Danika says, gripping a bag of popcorn in one hand and a Coke in the other as we find our seats—damn good ones right at the front.
“Me either.” I follow behind her, plopping into my seat and smiling hesitantly at the guy beside me who gives me a dirty look.
Well, then.
“All I know about baseball is that there’s a bat and they hit a ball,” she continues, earning a glare from the guy beside me.
“Then why are you guys here?” he drawls, sending major go away vibes.
Danika leans around me, plastering him with a glare that makes most cower. “Because her boyfriend plays, not that it’s any of your business.”
The guy looks me over, sneering. “And who’s your boyfriend?”
His tone is doubtful and downright rude.
“None of your fucking business,” I snap, and he chuckles, muttering something to his friend. More than likely he’s saying something about me being a liar. Well, whatever. He wishes I cared what he thought.
I take a sip of my lemonade, wincing from the overly tart sour flavor. Should’ve gone with the Coke.
Danika notes my expression and laughs. “I told you so.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I chant, setting the drink in the cupholder.
“Want me to grab you something else?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I promise, pulling my hair off my neck and tying it with a band. It’s not even that warm out, just the barest hint that spring is around the corner, but I’m so nervous I’ve worked up a sweat. I hope to God I don’t get pit stains in Teddy’s shirt. Talk about embarrassing.
Danika stands, already pulling out cash from her pocket. “What do you want?”
I bite my lip. “Coke.”
“I’ll be right back.” She shimmies down the aisle again, my seatmate ogling her ass.
I stare at him until he notices me, and the guy gives me an unabashed smirk. “Your friend has a nice ass.”
My skin prickles at his tone. “You have a nice face…” He grins at the supposed compliment. “When it’s squished beneath my tires.”
“Bitch,” he mutters.
“Sexist pig.”
My phone buzzes and I’m surprised to see a text from Teddy. I figured I wouldn’t hear from him until after the game.
Teddy: Did you make it?
Me: Already in my seat.
Teddy: Everything good?
Me: For the most part.
Teddy: What does that mean?
Me: The guy beside me is kind of a dick.
Me: Don’t worry. I can handle him.
He doesn’t reply and I figure he’s been distracted by a pre-game pep-talk or whatever it is that goes on before a game.
“Who’d you say is your boyfriend again?”
I eye the dickhead beside me. “I didn’t.”
“Right,” he chortles. “Because he’s probably not even real.”
“Yes, my boyfriend is imaginary because I’m five.” I shake my head incredulously. I can’t handle the idiocy of some people.
“No sane guy would deal with your bitchy attitude.”
I glower at him. “I’m not the one who started off with rude comments. I thought sports were supposed to bring people together, but clearly I was wrong.”
“Dude,” his friend mutters on his other side, “shut up.”
His friend’s words have no effect. “I just don’t understand why girls even come to these games. Girls don’t like sports. You never know anything about them, and you’re just here to chase players.”
“Hey!” A girl protests behind me. “I’ll have you know my dad took me to games all the time, and I happen to love the sport not the guys who play it.”
Clearly the guy beside me, probably a freshman based on his baby face, was raised in a sexist household.