“Ha!” I raise my brows at her. “You think I’m gonna let you call? That was perfect and you know it. Swing the bat, picky pants.”
A full count, thanks to her continued one-sided umping, and a clenched jaw later, I see my dreams dwindling before my very eyes. Her dad taught me how to pitch and her how to bat...probably should have thought that one out a little better. As the last pitch leaves my hand, sweat that I refused to wipe now dripping from my hairline, I know she’s got it. I’ve been in tune to her body language for years, and I’ve watched her go yard as many times as strike out...and as the ball sails by me and out of the park, there’s actual pain in my chest.
I start to load everything up as Laney rounds the bases. Oh yeah, there’s no way she wouldn’t run ‘em. I can’t even talk as I turn out the field lights and follow her to my truck.
She turns and gives me a grin over her shoulder. “No pouting.”
The drive home is dead silent and I ache. None too soon, we’re there. Just as I begin to drum up the voice to say goodnight, she turns in her open door and says, in the voice of an angel, “go with a tie the color of your eyes, it’s my favorite.”
Ornery.
Chapter Five
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BEDFELLOWS
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Laney
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The last few weeks have flown by; softball season ended and I survived dress shopping with Kaitlyn. Things are wonderful with Evan and me. We’ve always spent every lunch and tons of time together, but lately the hordes of girls at his locker have died down and he walks me to every class, now with his hand on my back or tangled in mine.
Apparently today is another new chapter, because as I’m getting my books out of my locker at the end of the day, I feel his arms slip around my waist. His breath tickles my neck as he leans. “My girl ready for the weekend?”
We appear to do PDAs now, and surprisingly, I’m just fine with that, so I turn in his arms, sliding mine around his neck. “Ready when you are.”
I blush at my own boldness, but I just can’t resist. Evan makes me feel safe to be whoever I want, anytime, and that person is evolving. That inner woman is starting to think that sometimes, if you feel like kissing, you should pucker up like it’s your last. Every once in a while, getting whisked away in a moment feels nice; real nice.
“I missed you all day,” he growls and I give him a little kiss on the end of his nose.
My fingers slip between his as I pull him to the parking lot; I am so ready to be home.
“I can run by and grab a movie; meetcha at home?” he offers.
“We could go to a movie if you want.” Was that just my voice? I hate going to the movies. No one ever laughs or shut ups at the right time, and I’m confident the theater doubles as an underground morgue since I can always see my breath, even if Kaitlyn and Evan swear the temp is fine.
“I’d really like you all to myself tonight. Please?”
Oh Lord, Evan, save the hurt puppy face, you and I both know that I hate the movies. I’m totally down for the “let’s reward Laney for making a sacrifice” plan, though, so I wink to let him know he’s “won.”
“Text me in a bit, and get something we’ll both like,” I say with an air kiss as I drive away happily.
A bit, as it turns out, is twenty-five minutes. I’ve just changed into comfy clothes, gray yoga pants and white sports tank, when my phone dings.
Evan: Still ready when I am?
Laney: Always. My house or yours tonight?
No text back. Knock on door.
“I choose here.” He beams as I open the door. Decked out in a backwards ball cap, tight blue t-shirt, and gray gym shorts, he is the sexiest, sportiest thing ever. That cocky smile he’s wearing as he taps the end of my nose does crazy things to my insides.
“Ok, silly boy, go make sure the movie room has blankets and pillows. I’ll bring up popcorn and drinks.”
Half an hour later, I’m all but one eye under the covers, curled into his body with my face buried into his chest. I’m pretty sure I’m drawing blood from his arm but I can’t help it. Who dreams up this scary crap? Better yet, why does the girl always ignore the creepy old townsman who tells her people died in her new house? Why does she insist on staying home alone and opening every damn door she can find?
I stay huddled under the covers, Evan holding me tightly with one arm around my back and the other on my leg, in a little anti-zombie haven...good stuff. He wouldn’t have to do this if he ever picked a comedy or drama, but I’m starting to understand his cinematic ulterior motives. I really have been walking around clueless for years, cause that’s how long he’s been choosing scary movies.