Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
It’s good I’m already getting a move on because as I’m walking toward the kitchen with one hand on the wall to steady myself—hangover in full force—I hear a honk from out front.
“That’ll be David here to pick you up for softball,” Queenie says, smiling from the kitchen doorway as she watches me practically crawling my way toward her.
“Need. Coffee.” I sound like I’m dying. “And why is this house spinning? Are we on a boat?”
“That’ll be the mojitos. I’ll make you a hair of the dog.”
Five minutes later, I slide into David’s back seat with my sunglasses on and a baseball cap pulled low over my eyes.
Lindsey turns back to look at me from the passenger seat. “Morning!”
My response is an undecipherable grumble.
Then she sniffs and scrunches up her nose. “What is in that drink? It smells putrid.”
I look down at the reddish brown liquid Queenie handed me on the way out the door. “Tabasco sauce and lemon juice. Other stuff too. I quit watching her make it after she added a raw egg.”
Lindsey gags.
“They got me so drunk last night. I think I’m going to die. Can you roll down the window back here?”
I proceed to ride to the ballfields with my head lolling out the window like I’m the family’s beloved golden retriever. I force down three sips of Queenie’s hair of the dog before my stomach protests altogether and I toss the remaining liquid (though can you really call it a liquid if there are unidentifiable chunks floating in it?) onto the grass behind David’s truck.
“You gonna make it?” Lindsey asks, helping me walk toward the fields with her arm around my back.
“It’s okay so long as I don’t move and I keep my eyes shut.”
This is by far the most trouble I’ve ever gone to just to spend time with a guy I’m NOT INTERESTED IN, but seeing Sawyer for the first time completely confirms I’ve made the right choice. So what if I almost threw up a little bit back in those bushes?
Sawyer is a god in the outfield, backlit by the rising sun. He’s wearing his captain’s t-shirt and black workout shorts. He looks gorgeous—tall, strong, confident—as he lobs softballs to a few of the Heatwave players. He’s having them practice scooping up grounders, and he does it with an encouraging smile.
When he sees us walking along the perimeter fence, he waves. I smile brightly and wave back, but when he turns to continue running the drill, I sag back to my previous posture.
“Sure this is a good idea?” Lindsey asks.
“Help me sit on the dugout bench and then I’ll get it together. I just need a few minutes.”
While everyone else goes out onto the field to practice some pregame drills, I sit with my head tipped back against the chain-link fence, working on taking deep breaths and focusing on a single point out in the distance.
A few minutes before the game starts, everyone crowds in around me. David pats my shoulder. “If I’d known you were really this sick, I wouldn’t have forced you out of bed.” There’s a touch of remorse in his tone. “Want me to see if I can get you a ride home?”
“No. I’m fine.” I don’t want to give up now that I’m so close to getting to talk to Sawyer. He’s out near home plate, chatting with the captain of the other team. Soon he’ll have to come into the dugout though.
I can’t believe it’s only been two days since I was last with him, kissing in the creek. It feels like longer. I want him to look at me and smile. I want his attention, but he’s too busy getting everything ready to go for the game to start.
The one silver lining is that this team seems to be much less intense than last week’s. There are no war chants, no music blaring so loud it rattles my eardrums. I wouldn’t be able to survive that.
Finally, Sawyer walks into the dugout and whistles to get everyone’s attention. I swear everyone sits up a little straighter as they give him their full focus. He’s so good at being captain, at taking command of us. “Listen up, I’ve made some changes to the batting order. Lindsey and Charlotte, you’ll go after Madison.”
“Oh.”
There’s a bit of confusion as Lindsey and Charlotte look at me. I should definitely not be batting before them, but maybe Sawyer has some secret strategy we’re not privy to. Or maybe he’s showing me a little favoritism. I have to tamp down my smile at the thought.
I stand, the world spins, and I swap spots with them.
Sawyer walks in our direction and I think he’s heading toward me. He’s going to smile and bend down, ask how I’m feeling, maybe even press the back of his hand to my forehead. I’m still daydreaming about the possibilities when I realize he’s walked right by on his way to grab something from his bag at the far end of the dugout. I stare in confusion, but then, of course. It clicks. He’s just bumped me up in the batting order; he’s probably trying to be sly about it. That, or David must have warned him that I’m not feeling well. I’m giving major Fuck Off vibes. No one has tried to talk to me except to ask if I’m okay.