Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance (31 page)

“Do you mind if I sit?” I ask.

It takes a moment but she nods, reaching for her messenger bag and sliding it onto the grass beneath the bench. I sit down beside her and take a quick drink from my own coffee, cool and relaxed. My nose detects her perfume; something faint but flower-scented. “So, why are you over here talking to yourself?” I ask her.

Eliza flips her hand to expose the front of her book. “Trying to choose a monologue.”

“The Bigger Book of Comedic and Dramatic Monologues,”
I read the title and quickly look at her. “You act?”

“Occasionally. It’s for a class.”

“What class?”

“Theatre 375.”

“375? Okay, so when you say you act
occasionally
, what you really mean is…”

“It’s my life,” she smiles.

“Gotcha,” I laugh. “You’re a theatre nerd. That’s cool.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” she says with sarcasm. “I have the approval of the quarterback. My undergraduate life is complete.”

“No, really. I think it’s cool.”

“I highly doubt that.” She side-eyes me. “How about you cut right to it already? I have some memorizing to do.”

I blink. “Cut right to what?”

“You know what.” She reaches between her legs and grabs the coffee cup, dangling it in front of me like an obvious sign.

“Well, I am
offended
, Eliza,” I say, placing my palm on my chest. “I was just being nice.”

“We have coffee, we have compliments,” she chuckles. “All we need now is condoms.”

I snap to attention, completely buzzed by the fierce crack of her words. She doesn’t blink, calling me out before I even raise my hand. “Well… since you brought it up…”

“No,”
she says, taking a sip of her coffee and flipping her book open again. “Not gonna happen.”

“Worth a shot.” I sit back and take a deep breath to recharge. “So, who was that guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy in your window the other night,” I say. “He your boyfriend?”

She reluctantly smiles. “No.”

“So… does your dad not let you date? What’s going on there?”

“No, I can date. I’m an
adult
,” she says, chewing on her lip. “He just doesn’t like me dating footballers.”

“Why not?”

There’s a flair of impatience in her cheeks. “Because he knows what you’re all like.”

I tilt my head. “What are we like?”

She inhales a quick breath and slides a bookmark in place before setting it down. “Well, if you’re anything like
him
— you’re all dirty, cheating, lying scoundrels.”

I feign offense again. “Well, I must say, that’s quite insulting, Eliza.”

“Insulting…” she agrees, leaning in, “but
accurate
.”

I realize she’s talking about me. “Says
who
?”

“Your reputation proceeds you, Junior Morgan.”

“Who have you been talking to?”

She flicks out her fingers as she lists them off. “Maddy Bryant, Stephanie Gomez, Lisa Lawrence, Tanya Mars, Rebecca—”

“Okay, you can stop.”
I shake away the quick flashes of faces from my mind. “You’ve proved your point… and done your homework.”

Eliza chuckles softly as she takes a victory sip from her coffee before sliding it back into place between her thighs.

“You make friends
very
quickly,” I note.

“And you break hearts just as fast.”

I flex my jaw. I crashed and burned before I even sat down. Might as well throw a Hail Mary. I lean closer and soften my voice. “Okay, I’ve broken a few hearts here and there but with
those eyes,
I’m willing to guess you have, too.”

“Oh, my god,”
she laughs, twisting towards me. “You
did
not
just try that.”

“Yes, I did,” I nod, owning it.

“Does that line ever work?”

“I’ll let you know.”

She leans over to grab her bag and tosses her books inside. “Thanks for the coffee.”

I watch her stand up, not even hiding the fact that I’m staring at her ass. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Nah,” she says, spinning around and looking down at me.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“You’re stone cold
now
, Eliza Pierce.” I raise a brow. “But later, you’re going to think of this moment, and
you’re going to blush.
”

She pulls a pair of black sunglasses from her bag and slides them onto her nose. “I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

“Bye, Junior.”

“Bye, Ellie.”

She twitches at the nickname but doesn’t stop her long stride across the grass towards Talon Hall. Her hips give an unnatural sway, almost as if she’s making the view worth my while but I might just be seeing things.

She tosses her coffee cup into the trash can outside and gives the front doors a hard yank, not even offering me a glance back as she disappears inside.

Shit. I’m officially late for geometry.

It was worth it.

Chapter 4

Eliza

I take one step into Talon Hall and Grant juts out in front of me.

“What’d he say?”

I gasp. “Jeez, Grant — you’re like a damn pop-up book.”

“Junior Morgan just bought you coffee and sat down beside you for ninety-seven seconds.”

“You
counted
?”

“Yup,” he nods. “What’d he say? Tell me now.”

I roll my eyes and move around him to head towards the classrooms. “I think you can probably guess.”

Grant follows so closely our elbows bump together with each step. “Did he ask you out?”

“I slammed on the brakes before he got the chance.”

“What?”
His face contorts like I just smacked him. “Why would you do that?”

I pause, furrowing my brow. “You’re the one who said he was a player…”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he chuckles. “It’s
Junior Morgan
, Eliza. He plays to
win —
if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do…”

He sighs. “Junior doesn’t take
no
for an answer. Once a girl is in his sights, he doesn’t stop until she’s screaming
yes
and, trust me,
you want to be that girl.
”

I laugh. “Sounds too good to be true.”

He points over my shoulder. “Go back out there and tell him you’ll go out with him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I continue moving across the lobby. “Because, even if I wanted to go out with him, I can’t. He’s on the football team. My dad would flip his shit if he found out.”

Grant deflates, his vicarious dreams dashed upon the rocks. “I forgot about that. You’re supposed to be playing daddy’s perfect, little princess…”

“Yeah,” I remind him. “Sorry, Grant. I won’t be screaming
yes
for Junior Morgan anytime soon.”

“But you want to,
right
?” he teases, nudging my ribs.

I blush. I fucking blush. Just like Junior said I would. “No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m sure there are worse ways to spend an evening,” I admit. “But it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

“Find a monologue for the fall semester showcase yet?” he asks me, shrugging as he changes the subject.

I reach into my messenger bag for his book. “Not quite. Need your book back?”

“Keep it. I have like three copies of that thing.”

“Thanks for helping me out, Grant,” I say, letting the book settle in the bottom of my bag. “Mr. Young kind of put the fear of God in me…”

“Don’t sweat it. The guy’s a cuddly puppy on the inside. Just stick to the classic, romantic monologues — he likes those. And don’t blubber during the emotional scenes. It’s too
Streep —
he hates that.”

I nod. “I can handle that.”

He throws his arm around my shoulders. “I know you can —
because you have to.
I’ve been waiting two years for a halfway decent ingenue to stroll through here, Eliza…”

“So I’m halfway decent?” I laugh.

“
You’re more than decent.
You’re Bergman to my Bogart, honey. You and I are going to blow Young’s frail, old mind at the audition on Friday.”

I grin, completely seduced by his pep-talk. “Yeah. You’re right!”

“I’m
always
right.” He releases my shoulders. “I need to get to class. I’ll meet you back here tonight and then on Friday —
we shine!
”

I wave him goodbye and he spins around towards the auditorium.

***

This place is a damn labyrinth.

I’ve only been in the athletic center once or twice before. Now, I wish I’d asked for dad to meet me outside. I’m pretty sure I’ve passed that janitor’s closet three times now.

I round a corner and spot a familiar face in the form of Bob, the assistant coach.

“Hey, Bob,” I greet.

His wrinkled eyes barely glance up from his clipboard. “Hey, darling,” he says. Bob’s only known me a few weeks but since day one, he’s always called me
darling
. I’d take offense but he’s such a lovable, old man. I find it difficult to feel upset about it.

“Have you seen my father?” I ask. “I’m meeting him here for lunch.”

“In the locker room, last I saw him,” he murmurs, pointing over his shoulder with his pen.

I think to walk inside but then I pause, reading the MEN’S sign on the door.

“Go on in,” Bob adds, reading my mind. “The team’s cleared out already. Check the office in the back.”

“Thanks, Bob.”

“If not, just keep your eyes on the floor,” he chuckles softly, grunting like the dirty, old man he secretly is.

I smile and push the door open, instantly struck in the face with hot steam from recently-run showers.

“Dad?” I call, my voice echoing throughout the room. It’s dead silent, save the occasional tap of a dripping shower head and the sound of my boots thumping beneath me. “Mr. Car-y P-ier-ce?” I say, adding a vibrato and listening to it echo back at me.

I walk towards the office in the back, performing quick head tilts around corners as the rows of lockers pass me by.

A white towel comes into view, tossed around the naked hips of a man standing before the last row of lockers.

“Oh—!”
I halt, nearly slipping on the moist floor. My eyes crash down, just like Bob told me to, and I keep them there. “Sorry, I was told the team was gone and—”

“It’s okay, Ellie.”

His chuckle fires down my spine.

I look up to see Junior Morgan standing there in nothing but a damp, white towel. His skin is wet with little rivulets of water still tumbling down to his toes. I press my lips together, my eyes instantly drawn to the tattoos staining his white skin, along with the muscles pushing out beneath them.

Whoa.

“Oh, Ellie.” He lets out a quick whistle. “I’m up here.”

I clear my throat and force my eyes to meet his. “I was just looking—”

“For your dad,” he grins, reaching into his open locker for a stick of deodorant.

“Right.” I take a breath. “Why didn’t you say you were in here?”

“Well, you weren’t screaming
my
name.” He shoots me the briefest of glances, just a quick check to see whether or not I’m still gawking at him as he glides the deodorant under his armpits.

Heat spreads over my skin. It’s far too warm in here for this sweater but there’s no way I’m taking it off with Junior Morgan standing half buck in front of me. A bead of sweat travels down my back, tickling my nerves with welcome discomfort.

“He left a few minutes ago,” Junior adds. “Before I got in the shower.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I turn my back to him, eager to put a mile of distance between us before I let that Adonis belt of his turn me extra stupid.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, amusement dripping off his tone. “You just got here.”

Don’t let him bait you. Don’t turn around. Just say nothing and leave.

I turn around and look at him, my pulse quickening at the stiff, wet strands of his dark hair poking down to his eyes.

Extra stupid.

“You’re naked,” I say.

He shrugs. “I know.”

“So… that means I should
leave
.”

“If you wanted to leave, you would have left by now.”

I twist away, spinning on my heels to take me far, far away from that throbbing magnet begging to keep me here. “Bye, Junior.”

“Wait. Come here.”

“I have to meet my dad.”

“It’ll only take a minute, Ellie. I promise.”

I pause my stride, battle raging between my head and my core. When I look back at him, he draws an X over his upper chest, slicing two lines through the moisture built up on his skin.

“Cross my heart,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, stalling.

“Because I have a theory and I would like to test it.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a science enthusiast, Junior.”

“Just biology,” he smirks.

I cross my arms, trying to ignore the next wave of heat coursing through me. Everything about him bleeds confidence right now and I despise him for it. Mostly because it’s working exactly how he wants. I’m pretty sure the wetness between my thighs isn’t from the steam in here.