Stupid Girl(72)

Through my shades I peered at my roommate, seated beside me in the bleachers as we watched Brax pitch the long-anticipated late afternoon fall home game. Tessa wore her long straight hair in a high ponytail, her eyes rimmed by large framed Hollywood-style tortoise shell sunglasses that went fashionably perfect with her skinny jeans, snug red top and pumps. I raised one brow. “So what changed your mind?”

Tessa shrugged, and a smile crept across her tanned face. “I’ve noticed several things during my weeks of in-depth scrutiny of Winston’s reputable man slut, which he was, by the way. That famous magical porn radar wiener wasn’t an urban legend. He’s just … changed now. But the one thing in particular is the way he looks at you. Not just sometimes, but every single time. He’s so into you, Liv. It’s like,” she inhaled, exhaled in a Tessa-drama fashion. “I don’t know. Like there’s no one else in the universe except you. Those freaky eyes soften and fill with absolute wonder, every single solitary time you appear anywhere within his range of sight. You’re all he sees.” She rested her head on my shoulder. “Like Tarzan sees Jane. Sheer bewilderment.” She sighed against me. “You’re so damn lucky.” Her head popped up and she smacked my thigh. “Shit! Brax is up to bat!”

A contented smile fell across my mouth as I tore my gaze across the bleachers to home plate. Brax dropped the bat over one shoulder and glanced my way, and his mouth broke into a bright wide grin.

“See what I mean?” Tessa said in a whispery voice.

“Yeah,” I answered back. A shimmer of excitement coursed through me. “I sure do.”

Everything since the night of confessions, things had been almost perfect. Almost in that we had large chunks of time during the day that we couldn’t be together. I had work; he had baseball. I had astronomy. He had fraternity. We saw each other every day, though, and I still couldn’t believe I’d met someone like him. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I kept secretly expecting it to end; for something to happen. Anything. But it hadn’t. I hadn’t told my family about Brax yet, but I would. Maybe he’d want to come home with me for Thanksgiving?

I settled my gaze on the game. Two men on base, two outs, and Brax crowded the home plate as he owned his stance, thighs spread wide and knees bent, fists gripping the wood and bat held high above his right shoulder. The pitcher threw a fast ball, and Brax swung and missed. He jerked, spit, and slammed the bat against home plate.

“Oops, he’s pissed now,” Tessa said.

He settled into his stance once more, the pitch fired across the plate and this time when Brax swung he nailed it. The bat cracked against the ball, firing it like a cannon down the left field line. Two runners crossed the plate, but my gaze remained on Brax’s powerful body as he rounded each base at top speed, finally stopping at third. Tessa and I leaped to our feet, clapping and hollering with the rest of the crowd. The third base coach slapped Brax on the shoulder, then Brax turned, found me, and held his arms out wide in his famous look what I just did gesture. I laughed.

“What a freaking hot dog,” Tessa claimed. “Oh! Oh shit!” She linked her arm through mine and yanked me back and forth. “Cory’s up!”

I laughed again. Tessa had it bad for Cory, and had been pretty bold about letting him know it, too. But after the break-up he’d endured, he wasn’t biting the bait Tessa kept chunking at him. It didn’t seem to deter her one little bit. We watched as Cory belted it into corner right field. Brax crossed home plate and Cory made it to second. Winston was ahead seven to two. Tessa’s brother Cole strolled to home plate.

“Holy fuck, he’s so full of himself,” Tessa griped. “Look at that strut!” Then she cupped her hands to her mouth and hollered. “Batter, batter swing, big brother!”

Three strikes later and Cole slung the bat to the ground, and the inning was over.

“Oh, hells bells, he’ll be in a mood tonight,” Tessa said.

My eyes followed Brax as he jogged out onto the pitchers mound in that easy, arrogant swagger that screamed confidence and sex appeal. The last three innings flew by as Brax struck each batter out. His long, powerful pitches used every ounce of energy from his body as he wound up and threw. It was an amazing sight to watch. One I didn’t think I’d ever grow tired of. As the last pitch fired into the catcher’s mitt, before the umpire called the strike, Brax leaped into the air. Tessa and I did the same, clapping and yelling. Game over. Silverbacks had won.

“I need to talk to you for a minute, Liv.”