Anything but Minor (8 page)

“Blush and bashful. My colors are blush and bashful,” I said in my best southern accent. I went on to explain. “It’s a line from—”

“Steel Magnolias, I know. I
do
have a mother and sister.”

I gave him a smile I knew to be my biggest, and I swear I could hear him mutter ‘shit’ under his breath.

This woman was insane, but the kind of insane you gravitated toward. There was nothing generic about her. She didn’t hold back on anything, not her wrath, her opinion, or her compliments, which she gave freely. I watched her as she sank into the ocean once we docked and came out soaking wet. Her body was a mix of color but still completely alluring, even with the mess that her skin was in. Her shoulder length, golden hair was dripping wet as she put on her shorts and slipped on her sweatshirt. I was fantasizing about wrapping her arms and legs around me and sinking into her.

God, I wanted this woman.

And she’d made it clear she didn’t want me, which of course made my dick even harder. We packed up my Jeep as she turned to me.

“Beer...I can do beer now...and parasailing!”

I couldn’t help my grin. “That’s a lot in a day.”

“Best day of my life,” she declared. “Thank you, Rafe.” She took a long look at the water and turned to me with a smile that stole my breath. “God, I love it here!”

I chuckled as we closed our doors and I started the Jeep and put it into gear.

“I don’t know why good days have to end. It’s so sad. Criminal, don’t you think?” She gripped my hand on the gear shift and squeezed it once before she let it go. “I guess so we appreciate them more or whatever.”

“Guess so,” I said, having the most honest conversation with a woman I’d ever had. She was completely raw to me, nothing about her guarded. I was starting to think I really was the prick Andy spoke of and that she may be
too
real, which made me more of a prick.

I studied her as she soaked in the scenery and I soaked in mine. I was staring
at
the real, and at that moment, nothing in my life aside from ball had been so appealing.

“I came here to have nothing but good days,” she declared absently, staring at the marsh as we crossed over the bridge onto the connecting island.

“And where you’re from, you didn’t have good days?”

“Huh.” She wrinkled her nose. “My mother was the definition of oppressive. Happiness, smiles, excitement, it was all a foreign concept to her. She was serious and...strict.”

I looked over at her and saw a sad smile. “She was just way too intense.” Alice lifted her hands in the air through the top of the Jeep with a sinister smile. “SO I ESCAAAAAAAPED!”

I couldn’t help my light laughter as she closed her eyes with her hands held up...all the way back to the bar.

“I think I was a little buzzed,” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and checked her phone. “Thank you for an awesome time.”

“You’re welcome,” I said as I took her phone and texted myself a hello with her number. “For the next time you want to cancel on me.”

“For days like this,
never
. Except next time...I won’t be so nervous.”

“Good to know,” I said as we both grabbed her bag from the backseat. Our hands connected, and I rubbed my thumb over the top of her soft skin as she exhaled and lowered her head.

“Rafe,” she protested as I leaned in to claim her lips. She closed her eyes tightly and then looked to me with brown-eyed seriousness. “So far, you’re the only person
resembling
a friend I have. I’m going to be at every single home game of yours this year because I promised Dutch I would. Do you really want to do this with me? I mean, I know how this works. You’re curious, we have sex, I may like it, I may not, either way, I may like
you
more, and your curiosity will be quenched, and then I don’t get to have days like today. You’re a ladies’ man. Find another lady, and let me have more days like this.”

I sat, stunned, fucking speechless.

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, Rafe. Believe me, I am...
really
attracted to you,” she whispered. “But I can’t beat days like this, okay?”

“Okay,” I said as I let her hand go. Beautiful brown eyes seared right into me in thanks.

She paused before she opened the door. “I may be wrong about you, I think. I thought you were one of those bone-headed, stupid athletes who only cared about baseball and women. But I have a feeling you’re worth knowing.”

For the second time in a minute, I couldn’t say a single fucking word.

“So, okay, I’ll see you at the game.”

My body felt like it had been dipped in lava. I couldn’t handle another second. I tore off my pajamas just as Rocky knocked out Apollo Creed and stood under the cold shower. I had the sunburn of someone being electrocuted. Still on fire, I wrapped myself in my favorite afghan and picked another movie:
Sixteen Candles
.

John Hughes was my ultimate go-to. Never had my world been rocked like it was when I discovered his movies. I’d memorized his whole collection, coveting the underrated
Some Kind of Wonderful
like most women did their favorite pair of shoes. My movies meant everything to me. They were my best friends, my confidants, and my prophetic teachers when life got hard.

There was a question on the board the first day of my human studies class at Cornell that asked: If you could take only one thing from your home as you flee from a fire, what would it be?

I answered my movie collection and odd looks were shot my way. The professor asked me why I would choose to take something so easily replaceable. My first instinct was to tell him that they’d belonged to my father, and that was some of the significance, but instead I answered, “Jake Ryan.”

I cringed when no one got it. I was referring to a movie as old as most of the students in the class.

I sat up that night thinking about that question and wondering if something was truly wrong with me. I’d listened to the other answers of the other students in an attempt to understand. Those answers consisted mostly of computer towers, iPads, and their phones being the number one answer. Others were family photos, childhood stuffed animals, jewelry. Watching the movie that night and with a sigh on my lips, I kicked myself mentally for not having more confidence in my answer.

JAKE RYAN.

The ultimate man.

The prince charming that had it all, but despite the fact that his life seemed perfect, he looked around, sought out and fell in love with the “different” girl. It was no secret why I loved that movie and Jake so much. It had always been my hope for me one day.

Rafe popped into my head at that moment, and I found myself restless at the very thought of him. His perfect body, his beautiful, soul-filled eyes, and Lord, his voice, deep with a hint of southern twang. He hadn’t been nearly as shallow as I’d originally thought. Though we didn’t say much, I knew he was in there. He’d probably had too many women who gave themselves easily that he had to put forth little to no effort to open up before they did.

I was more than curious, but I knew I was right about his intentions. When he’d given in so easily to my plea to keep things platonic, I knew I was a curiosity for him. I should’ve been on cloud nine that a man like that would take sexual interest in me. And though I didn’t have much experience in dating or sex, I knew things could turn bad for me and fast if I let Rafe touch me because I’d
really
wanted him to touch me.

It would have been a new kind of paradise—a temporary high for him, a new craving for me. I knew that deep down after just a few hours with him. Or maybe he would be a poorly skilled, tongue slinger with halitosis. The fantasy was always better, wasn’t it? At least, that’s the conclusion I came to.

But
Jake Ryan
hadn’t drifted through the air in front of me like a wet god. Jake Ryan didn’t have soulful eyes. Okay, maybe he did, but they weren’t
as
soulful. I closed my eyes as I mentally finger flicked Jake to the edge of his pedestal.

This is not platonic thinking, Alice.

Fucking away games. I’d come to loathe them in my downtime. The bus rides always seemed to drag on, and the cities began to bore me after the first few years. While the rest of the team celebrated another win with beers and a group of girls who’d waited at the bar for them, I lay in the stale smelling motel room and stared at the ceiling.

And I thought of Alice. She’d attended every home game last week and only made an appearance once at the bar after. She’d spent the majority of her time chatting with Andy and Kristina and barely glanced at me before she excused herself to go home. I had to fight the urge to get her alone and tried to respect her wish to keep things friendly. Even with the line drawn, she’d barely given me any of her attention. She was fighting it, and I knew it every time our eyes locked.

It took me exactly five minutes to work up the nerve to text her. She made me nervous. I fucking loved that.

Rafe: What are you doing?

Alice: HI, RAFE!

I chuckled. She never played cool.

Rafe: Hi, Alice, and you didn’t answer my question.

Alice: I’m listening to the recap of the game on WSAP. Congrats on your win. You are soooo talented!

I smiled as the warmth in my chest spread.

Rafe: Thank you.

Alice: They say you’ll get drafted to the majors this year. How exciting!!!

Rafe: Hope so.

Alice: I’m so happy for you. You struck out Jason Tillman! He’s the best hitter in the minors.

Another smile she couldn’t see. But I could feel her excitement, and it felt good.

Rafe: He was so mad he broke his bat.

Alice: I heard. I’ll buy you a beer when you get back to celebrate.

Rafe: I’ll let you.

Alice: So why haven’t they promoted you yet? You have some of the best stats in the MiLB.

The woman was doing her homework.

Rafe: You sure you’re new to ball?

Alice: I’m writing an email to Gerry Knight.

Rafe: What? No, Alice, don’t do that. That’s not the way this works.

She was definitely new to ball. Gerry was the manager of the major league team I was signed with.