Текст книги "Game On"

Автор книги: Katie McCoy

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“I would never,” I promised, and his smile grew bigger.

“Good to know.” He waved over my shoulder. I turned and saw Mandy heading into the parking lot, cradling her camera bag. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, but his eyes stayed on Mandy. It was like I wasn’t even there. Perfect, I thought. They both seemed to be interested, but they clearly needed a little nudge. Nudging was my specialty.

“That bag of hers looks like it’s on its last legs,” I said, noting that he not only had an expensive truck, but his clothes, though just jeans and a t-shirt, were clearly well-made. He was also wearing a pair of fancy sunglasses. He was the kind of guy I would have fought my fellow waitresses over. Moneyed, but clearly polite. A Texan boy, born and bred, the kind that talked slow, moved slow, and generally took his time enjoying life. You got good tips out of a guy like this. Now it was my opportunity to return the favor. “It really needs to be replaced.”

“Huh?” Chris finally looked back at me.

“Mandy’s camera bag,” I pointed out. “I know she just got that camera—bet she’s worried about her bag breaking open. She would probably be heartbroken if something happened to her equipment.”

“Yeah.” Chris looked thoughtful. It seemed like he was open to suggestion. Another good sign. “It does look like it’s falling apart.”

I leaned in a little closer, but not close enough that he or Mandy would think I was hitting on him. Just a friendly amount of leaning in. “Bet she’d be really grateful to get a new one. Don’t think they pay her at the school paper.”

I could see the pieces clicked in his head and he turned to me with a smile.

“You think she’d like a new bag?” His eagerness made it clear why Mandy was smitten with him. Was this whole team just made up of really nice guys? Obviously I needed to spend more time in Austin. Or near baseball players. Or just near one particular player who filled out his uniform like he was born into it. I realized I was getting off track.

“I think she’d like anything you gave her,” I said honestly. Clearly this guy had good intentions, but bad follow-through. Like most guys I knew. He just needed a push in the right direction. And that was something I could offer. “I can find out if there’s anything she’s got her eye on. If you’d like.”

“Really?” Chris’ eyes lit up. “That would be great. I’m not really good at that kind of stuff. Thank you.”

Just then, Mandy reached us, her own smile faltering a little bit. The air crackled with tension and it might have made me uncomfortable if I wasn’t so amused by how much they both liked each other and how little they had been able to do about it.

“Hey, Mandy.” Chris was suddenly shy. It was adorable.

“Hey, Chris.” Mandy, my little but fierce new friend, appeared to be feeling the same.

I stood between the two of them as they shuffled their feet, not really making eye contact.

“Good practice today.” I tried to help along the conversation. She had been so talkative in the taco place, it was funny to see her so quiet now.

“Yeah.” Mandy thankfully took the bait. “You looked good out there—I mean, uh, you guys looked good out there.” She was turning pink and looked at me with the universal “please help me” face.

“You got some good pictures, I thought.” I looked over at Chris. “She’s a really good photographer.”

“I’ve seen her pictures in the paper,” he agreed quickly. “They are really good.” He was so charmingly earnest. I mentally applauded Mandy for her good taste.

“You should show Chris some of your pictures some time,” I suggested.

“Oh, but he sees them in the paper,” Mandy responded, totally clueless, and Chris’ hopeful expression faded.

“Not all of them.” I wished I could kick her. “I bet he’d like to see your work. And you take pictures of other things, right?”

“I’d love to see your work,” Chris added immediately. Good boy, I thought.

“Oh, I don’t know—” Mandy began, but I looped my arm around her shoulders.

“You probably have to look through them first, right?” I tried to be gentle, encouraging. “But maybe you guys could get together after the practice tomorrow?”

“That would be great.” Chris’ smile was huge and charming.

“Great,” I answered since it seemed as though Mandy had lost her voice. She was standing there doing her best open-mouthed bass impression. “We’ll see you after practice tomorrow and you guys can go somewhere quiet and look at Mandy’s photos.”

“Great,” Chris responded happily.

“Great.” Mandy was still clearly in shock. It was so much easier to get other people together than it was to fix my own romantic issues. And currently, much more fun.

“OK then.” I realized that neither of them seemed to know how to exit this conversation. Could they be any more perfect for each other? “Well, we’ll see you tomorrow, Chris.”

“Great,” Chris said again and then seemed to realize that it was time for him to go. “Right,” he said. “Tomorrow. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” His eyes darted down to the camera bag in Mandy’s arms. “I have to go run some errands anyway.”

“OK.” Mandy held her camera close. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I shooed Chris away. He got in his car with an obvious bounce in his step. I waved as he pulled out of the lot. He waved back.

I turned to find Mandy standing dumbstruck, one hand lifted in a wave.

“Don’t forget to shave your legs.” I gave her shoulder a nudge. “And wear cute underwear.”

“I’ve got a date with Chris tomorrow,” she said slowly. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth slightly slack. “I’ve got a date with Chris tomorrow,” she repeated “Oh. My. God.”

“You do have cute underwear, right?” I asked her.

She finally seemed to notice I was there and let out a loud laugh. “You got Chris to ask me out on a date tomorrow night.”

“Technically you asked him out,” I reminded her. “And I didn’t get him to do anything. He likes you.”

“Wow.” She gently put her camera case in her backseat. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to just figure out if he likes me and you get here and within a day I’ve got a date with him.” She blinked at me, awe in her eyes. “You’re amazing.”

“Not amazing,” I shrugged aside the praise modestly. “Just intuitive.” With other people, I added silently. When it comes to your own choices, you really need some work, Hall.

As if she was reading my mind, Mandy tilted her head and gave me a look. “Any luck with Nathan?”

I shrugged. “He’s still upset.”

Mandy nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. But don’t worry.” She patted my hand. “We’ll figure something out.” She got into her car. “Let me give you a ride.” I smiled, grateful for her help.

As we neared the hotel, she turned the radio down.

“You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.” I wasn’t leaving until I got my interview.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled up at me. “And in case I didn’t say it already, thanks.”

I’d had Mandy drop me a short walk from the hotel. I needed to clear my head. The day had cooled off and the walk back to the hotel was just what I needed. It gave me a chance to admire how beautiful Austin was in the daytime. All the gorgeous old buildings, accented by huge lush trees everywhere. The whole place felt timeless and modern at once somehow, big skyscrapers peering out between columned hotels like the Driskill. I bet from above the whole city glittered.

As I walked, I started to feel better. There was a lake near the hotel, Lady Bird Lake, and I stopped there to watch people playing with their dogs and couples walking hand in hand. It was peaceful and I was feeling the same.

Sure, things with Nathan had started out rocky, but now I had match-made my way into two of his friends’ good graces. That could only help my situation. An extra bonus on top of the fact that I liked Chris and Mandy. I didn’t even know them that well, but I wanted both of them to be happy.

As far as my progress, I wasn’t quite where I would have been if last night hadn’t happened, but I was better than I had been when I woke up this morning. And I had time. If anyone was going to get a story out of Nathan Ryder, it was going to be me. And I wasn’t leaving Austin until I had it.

Chapter Six

I woke to a text message from Mandy. As I squinted at the bright screen of my phone in the dark of my room, I groaned. It wasn’t even that early, but the margaritas yesterday probably didn’t help.

Today will be hot. Wear shorts. Mandy.

Thank you, Mandy, my new best friend.

It was only a half hour until my alarm was set to go off, so I got up and took a long shower. Yesterday I had looked like the worst version of myself; today was not going to be the same. I was going to look fantastic.

The heat and my sweat was going to be murder on my hair no matter what, but still, I took my time with it, drying and styling it, hoping that it would last at least until I saw Nathan. I left it down this time. It gave me grief, but when I got it to behave, it treated me very well.

Even though the weather report said it was going to be about the same temperature as yesterday, I took Mandy’s advice. I thought about what she had been wearing yesterday—a pretty little sundress—and took my lead from that. I looked regretfully at the nice slacks and jacket I had packed, realizing that they were definitely the wrong fashion choice. Looking like a journalist would probably make Nathan even more skittish. I had to look like myself. Like a person he could talk to. Luckily I had brought enough everyday clothes to make it through the interview process.

I didn’t have a sundress, so I pulled a pair of jean shorts from the drawer and paired it with my favorite gray T-shirt and sneakers. The whole thing was casual—not too ratty, but nothing overtly professional that screamed, “I am a reporter here to interview you and get all your deepest darkest secrets and put them out in the world for everyone to read.” He wouldn’t talk to me if he thought I was here looking for a scandal. I had to find a way to make him trust me.

It was more crowded than yesterday, though I spotted a few girls I recognized. I waved and they, reluctantly it seemed, waved back. Maybe they didn’t think I was the worst person ever.

Mandy was already in the stands when I arrived at the field, dressed in another cute sundress, this one green, her hair clearly styled and paired with a nice shade of pink lipstick. Subtle, but cute. Good girl, Mandy, I thought. She wasn’t going to let yesterday’s progress with Chris get derailed. In fact, she was going to take advantage of the situation. I knew I liked her. Girl knew how to take initiative. Smart.

Apparently it had worked and caught Chris’ attention because he was leaning against the railing in his uniform, with Nathan at his side. Both of them were smiling and laughing with Mandy, but only one of them noticed my approach.

Even from across the field, I could see Nathan’s jaw drop. Thank you, Mandy, I thought to myself, as his eyes scanned my body, each inch of my skin heating as his gaze passed over it. Even though my outfit wasn’t anything special, it definitely showed off my long legs, and if I turned around, he’d get a pretty good view of my ass. Served him right, really, for distracting me all of yesterday with his rear. Payback was a bitch, I thought.

His mouth was slack, his eyes round. Now that I had his attention, I just had to hold on to it. As I reached them, I swept my hair back over my shoulder. Slowly. It was one of my favorite moves. A crowd-pleaser if the crowd was full of horny guys, which, let’s face it, was basically every bar, restaurant, or sports stadium in America. The move gave guys a chance to imagine how their hands would feel tangled in my hair and immediately gave them a better view of how deep the V in my V-neck shirt was.

And Nathan got quite the view.

“Morning,” I said, joining the group.

“Rose,” Nathan responded, his voice low. It took me a moment to realize he was referencing our Titanic exchange from the other night.

I glanced over at him, and caught the hint of a smile on his lips before he turned and headed over towards the other players. He had made a joke! That had to be a good sign. Not to mention he had definitely enjoyed the view. As did I, I noted, watching him walk away. He had a great walk. And a great ass. God bless those uniforms.

“Hi Sophie,” Mandy said while glancing at my outfit with an approving smile. She gave me a subtle thumbs up.

“Hey, Hall,” Chris said, before turning a grin in Mandy’s direction. He was clearly just interested in talking to her. I wasn’t offended. “See you afterwards?”

“Yep.” She returned the grin. They both looked happy and goofy and excited. I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Mostly glad for them, but hey, I could admit that I was a little jealous as well. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t here for romance or attention, as much as I wished that wasn’t the case.

I climbed into the stands next to Mandy, gratefully taking the bottle of water she handed me. I reminded myself I needed to come more prepared for an afternoon of sitting in the sun.

“Thanks for the tip,” I told Mandy, nodding down at my outfit.

“It’s just a nudge.” She gave me a wink. “I don’t know if I can do much more.”

“You’ve done plenty.” I thought of Nathan’s joke. Maybe we were onto surer footing after all.

***

The stands were rowdier then yesterday, with people cheering as the players jogged by during their warm-up. Not that I blamed them; those uniforms made me want to cheer as well. The boys then stretched, a collective display that made my hormones surge. All of them together like that, they were more mouthwatering than an entire bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups when I’m on my dot. But for the most part, the practice wasn’t much different than it had been yesterday and after a while, I took out my notebook and started jotting down questions for my interview with Nathan, figuring it would behoove me to be prepared for whenever he allowed me to talk to him. When I had a list I was satisfied with I glanced up at the field, which I had been mostly ignoring, and was surprised to see it empty.

“Where did everyone go?” I asked Mandy, who was scrolling through the pictures she had taken that day.

Mandy looked at her phone. “Oh, it’s Wednesday.” She smiled. “Practice always lets out early on Wednesdays. Nathan has class.”

As if summoned, the guy in question emerged from the dugout. Like yesterday there was already a crowd waiting for him, and he took his time posing for pictures and signing baseballs. I made a note to include that in my article—Nathan Ryder: loves his fans and they love him back.

“Class?” I asked Mandy. Most soon-to-go-pro athletes weren’t big on actually going to class, nor did their schools usually encourage it. As far I knew it was standard practice to give star players easy-to-pass classes that they could skip at their leisure. But once again, it appeared that Nathan Ryder was hell-bent on surprising me.

“You should go with him,” Mandy suggested, giving me a little nudge. “I doubt anyone would mind if you sat in for one lecture.”

“What class is it?” I gathered up my things, eager to get a chance to see a different side of him. One that could potentially help my article.

She just grinned. “Just follow him and find out.”

I didn’t need any additional urging. I grabbed my stuff and practically tumbled out of the stands as Nathan walked by. If he noticed the awkwardness of my dismount, he didn’t say anything, though I was pleased to note that he actually slowed down so that I could catch up with him.

“Hey,” he said, not friendly, but not exactly unfriendly either. Neutral. Which, although it was better than yesterday’s general feel of annoyance, still wasn’t the version of Nathan I was interested in.

“Heard you’re heading to class.”

He gave me a sideways glance. “Guess you’ll be joining me?”

“If you don’t mind.” I gave him my most winning grin. “Bet people would like to read about what you do outside of baseball.”

“I’m sure they would.” There was that skeptical tone again, but I chose to ignore it.

“What class are we going to?” I asked cheerily. He mumbled something that I couldn’t quite understand. “Huh? Pottery?”

“Poetry,” he clarified and his cheeks went pink. My heart unwillingly skipped a beat.

He was taking a poetry class? Oh man, I thought, people were going to eat this up. I was going to eat him up. No, down girl, I told myself. You were doing this for America, not for yourself. But damn. He couldn’t be more charming if he tried. I bit my lip, trying not to grin too obnoxiously at him. It didn’t work.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, ducking his head, face even more red. “Not what you expected from a big dumb jock, is it?”

“I never thought you were dumb,” I told him. Big, well, a girl could only hope, I thought and immediately chastised myself for my never-ending filthy thoughts. “You’re just full of surprises, it seems.”

“That’s me.” His tone was dry.

“What made you want to take a poetry class?” I asked, switching into journalist mode. I wanted to pull out my notepad or my phone to record the conversation, but I figured that would just spook him. I could get everything on record during our official interview—this was just prep work, getting him to open up.

But it didn’t work. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m just taking it for credit?”

“Nope,” I told him, trying not to be disappointed in how he was dodging my completely reasonable and very not personal line of questioning. It didn’t bode well for the actual interview I had planned. “Who’s your favorite poet?”

“Bet you were a star pupil in school.” He quickly changed the subject as we reached main campus. “Straight As, teacher’s pet, honor roll, the whole thing.”

“Would you believe me if I said I was a slacker?” I responded as casually as I could. I had started working in high school, which often meant I had less time to do homework and sometimes had to miss class. Even though I had graduated, it had been a close call, and most of my teachers had considered the term an apt description.

“Nope,” he responded quickly. “You seem like someone who was focused on her studies.”

I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a compliment or an insult, but I could sense an in. Even though I didn’t like revealing this aspect of myself, I knew that since I had made Nathan feel like a fool at the bar, it was now my turn to make myself vulnerable. To return the favor, so to speak, and even the playing field between us.

“I didn’t go to college.” I tried to keep my tone light. It never got easier admitting that to people, and I found that it felt especially vulnerable to do that to Nathan. I had never had the opportunities that he had. I had done my research on him. I knew that even if he hadn’t gotten a full athletic ride to college, his family would have been able to afford to send him anywhere. My mom hadn’t even been able to make it to my high school graduation because of work. Helping me pay for college was never even an option. I tried to remind myself that I was doing well, that I had the job I wanted even without a college degree, but I couldn’t help feeling like I had missed out on something important I really wanted to experience. And there it was again, jealousy. I seemed to be feeling it an awful lot in the past few days and I was not a fan. I was better than that.

“Oh,” he responded.

“Yeah.” I didn’t want to look up. This is when people usually started acting differently towards me. A little bit of pity, a little bit of elitism. I had dealt with it plenty of times at the paper, where most of my co-workers had graduated from some of the best journalism schools in the country. Most of them didn’t think I deserved to be there, especially since I had taken the slot that was usually filled by graduates from their various alma maters. But the editor-in-chief had seen something in me, apparently. Or just wanted me to fuck up so they had a reason to fire me. Either way, I was going to hang onto this job with an iron grip as long as I could. And I wasn’t going to allow Nathan to make me feel the way my shitty co-workers did.

I looked up and made eye contact. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh,” he said again, but he wasn’t looking at me the way that most people did when I told them about my situation. He looked more curious than anything. Either way, he wasn’t looking at me like I was a journalist looking to grill him for intimate facts he didn’t want to share. No. He was looking at me like he had looked at me the other night. And suddenly, I was once again the girl in the bar.

“It’s not a big deal,” I shrugged, hoping that sharing this information was going to be worth it in the end. “I worked instead. Got ahead of my peers, I guess.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave me a slow, assessing look.

“What?” I asked, feeling very exposed in front of him.

“You’re just not what I expected,” he said. “When they told me a journalist from the Register was coming to do an article on me, well, I guess I just thought you would be different.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I retorted, my hackles rising. I might not have been what he had expected, but I was a damn good journalist and I was going to write a damn good story on him with or without his approval.

“I didn’t say that,” he said as we reached the lecture hall. He sighed. “Look, I know you’re just trying to do your job and all, I just don’t see the point of all this.”

“I’m here to help you,” I assured him, not really understanding how someone could be on the verge of becoming such a huge star and be so reluctant to talk about himself. “There’s a good chance you’ll be a public figure soon and people will want to get to know you. I want them to see your best side.”

“And sitting in on my poetry class is going to help show that?”

“It depends,” I teased. “Are you going to be reciting poetry in there?”

He leaned forward, that wonderful smell of grass invading my senses and for a moment I thought he might kiss me. But instead, he spoke, in a voice that was almost a whisper:

“I will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch. Until you give.”

My mouth dropped open and placing a finger beneath my chin, Nathan gently closed it.

“e.e. cummings,” he said, turning to open the door to the lecture hall. “You coming?” he asked, the question equally naughty and innocent, and without a word, I followed him in.