35. Dakota
35
DAKOTA
Callaway: I’m picking you up at eight. Wear something comfortable, or nothing if you’d prefer.
Dakota: Funny. Always telling, never asking.
Callaway: It hasn’t failed me yet.
Dakota: What are we doing?
Callaway: That’s for me to know and you to find out.
Dakota: I’m nervous, Callaway.
Callaway: Don’t be. I’ll take care of you. Can’t wait to see you.
Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I’ve never been around the guy. We see each other regularly and he feels more familiar than most people in my life.
Yet, the word date rings in my heart truer than before.
There's an unforeseen possibility going into tonight. Dating is a stage of vulnerability, where you typically share about yourself with the other person, hoping they like what they discover. It’s a good thing for me; Callaway already knows almost everything there is to know about me.
This is the next step, the one where I finally choose to move forward with him after months of fighting this gravitational pull he has with me.
After the Strikers nailed the win and took the sweep against the Cardinals, they headed to the guest locker room for a meeting on what’s to come for the rest of the season. Coach Leggins seems to be in a decent mood since the win, so, hopefully, he will let the team off for the rest of the weekend to celebrate.
While the team was meeting, I head to my guest locker to collect my camera equipment.
I have a good feeling about the photos I was able to shoot tonight.
There were so many moments of the team in sync with each other, cheering for one other, and a determination I was able to witness and photograph.
The bond they share is such a special thing to see firsthand; that’s part of the reason, I’m sure, why they play and win together so well.
I never imagined that my joy in photography would be amplified while photographing sports. It’s become something I now look forward to doing. There’s a certain energy that comes from a team's cohesiveness, win or lose, matched with the rivalry of the other teams and the fans battling for the win of their die-hard fans.
The field is electric. Unbeatable. And to be able to capture those moments is a privilege. One that I’ll never stop appreciating.
Once I load up my equipment, I set out for the bus terminal to meet the staff and team before we head to our hotel for the night. Since this was the last game of the sweep in Cleveland, we’re staying here for the night, then heading back to Atlanta tomorrow .
Walking up to the hotel, I’m overwhelmed by the greatness of it all.
I never went without growing up, but I certainly never experienced this kind of wealth, a privilege that evidently comes from being a professional baseball player. I have a feeling the guys wouldn’t care where they stayed as long as they had a bed to sleep in and food to eat.
They're decent humans like that.
From my assumption, the Strikers playing the Cardinals was a rival match that would draw a heavy crowd—explaining how booked the hotel is.
It’s located in downtown Cleveland, placed right outside the nightlife strip where patrons walk by on foot to reach destinations nearby. The city's riches are apparent no matter which way you look.
As the staff and team enter the hotel, I’m reminded of how famous the Strikers are; well, I’m noticing what a celebrity Callaway is.
King, Cal, Bodhi, Gus, and Mack are stopped for autographs and photo ops every minute. They rarely turn down a fan or a chance to have a meaningful conversation.
They will make the best husbands one day.
The attention they show to the support they receive is admirable and only makes me love them more.
The team huddles around the hotel lobby waiting for our designated room arrangements. Jack calls me over to the check-in counter as he secures the keys. “Here you go, Dakota. You have a room to yourself for the night. Thanks for all your efforts today.”
Well, shoot.
An entire room, bed, everything to myself? Say less, Jack.
Walking back to where the guys are huddling, catcalls sound out to me, leading me in their direction .
Idiots.
King jumps in first, no shocker there. “Well hot damn, Kodi girl. Flying solo tonight? Any chance you need a king to come warm your bed, gorgeous?”
I love his stupid ass.
Jethro has a tendency to take things too far. Thankfully, I know him well enough now. “I bet she found herself a Cleveland fuck buddy.”
I’m staring him down like the plague — “Hey, Jet?” He looks my way. “Shove it up your ass.” Oohs and aahs sound out around us.
He’s too easy to mess with.
Jethro looks at me with the intent to egg me on further. Be my guest.
“What was that, sweetness?” Barf.
I tolerate him because he’s Callaway’s friend and teammate, but his immaturity makes my skin crawl.
“Don’t act like you aren’t familiar with things shoved up there, Jethro.”
A chorus of cheering lights up my ears. I had no intention of stirring things up, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m afraid to look at Cal, though, unsure if he’s hearing this and okay with it.
Jethro’s skin has all but blanched ghostly pale, looking slightly humiliated, but I know he has a retort brewing.
“How would you even know that?” There it is.
I’m winning this feud. “I didn’t until you gave yourself away.”
Gus is slapping the lobby couch pillow repeatedly, rolling in hysterics. “Dude, how did I not know this?” His laughter leads to an outbreak among the team.
“I don’t like du?—”
“Baylor, Hale, cut the shit.” There’s my guy .
I was wondering when he would show up for the roasting.
Thankfully, I know they’re harmless. Callaway, however, seems not to care in the slightest how much they’re fooling around.
“Jet, you better back the fuck down.”
Caveman.
I gape at Callaway’s sudden outburst, trying not to show how amusing it is to see him get so worked up in my favor.
Gus is still going. “Hale’s been keepin’ secrets!”
I’m choosing to ignore them all. Let them handle Jethro on their own now.
Deciding to head up to my room early, seeing as I have a date tonight, I dismiss the team with a farewell. “Goodnight, ladies. Don’t forget to wrap it up.” Because I can’t seem to resist myself, I look over my shoulder and catch Jethro’s attention, “You too, boo boo.”
Their raucous laughter is like music to my ears.
It feels good to give them something to talk about.
I know if I turn around, Callaway will be watching me, making sure I make it safely to the elevator, untouched and unharmed.
For all he knows, I’ve completely thought better of our date and decided to stay in and sleep. That’s not true, of course; I wouldn’t miss this time with him for anything.
But being unpredictable is fun, and it’s been far too long since I’ve had some good fun.
I wonder what kind of fun I’ll get into next.
A knock sounds on my door at precisely eight o’clock.
He showed .
Which means he believed I would still come.
After getting up to my room, I made quick work of showering and getting ready for my date.
Callaway said to wear something casual.
Since my ideal choice of casual looks a lot like oversized everything and fuzzy socks, I settle on my next choice. I chose athletic gray cargo sweats, a simple white cropped tee, and my purple and white Dunks. My hair is up for once in a slicked-back ponytail, giving my cheekbones a sharper and more defined look. Since I’ve never been one to wear much makeup, I go for a natural look with a heavy coat of mascara to make my lashes pop and some mauve lip gloss.
I look casual, but like I cared enough to try.
That’s what I’m going for, at least.
Considering the possibility of going outside somewhere and it being cold, I grab my oversized denim jacket to throw over my shoulders if needed.
I should probably open the door now. Oh God, this is really happening.
I never knew I could be so nervous and excited all at the same time.
Yes, Callaway has become an incredible friend, but he’s so much more than that. I’m comforted that I already trust him, making dating him feel that much easier.
It’s not lost on me that there's no going back as soon as we cross the friendship line. Not like we didn’t already cross it the second I all but begged him to sleep with me.
Here goes nothing.
Taking one last breath, I open the hotel door to reveal perfection in human form.
Holy beetles, he’s a work of art.
Callaway’s back is facing me, most likely giving me a second to get to the door, and from what I can see already, his version of comfort is my favorite look.
He’s standing tall in camouflage cargo joggers, the epitome of sexy on a man, a black scoop hem tee that hugs every rip, line, and muscle like a second skin, showcasing all of those beautiful tattoos I love so much, black combat boots, and every woman’s weakness, a backward Strikers hat.
I’m deceased.
His lips may need to rescue me right this second.
Thankfully for me, he doesn’t register my ogling in time, only to turn around and knock me off my feet again.
How did I turn down this deliciousness of a man for so long?
His smile reaches his eyes, defeating me on the spot.
And heavens, he’s got Vanilla Creme Milanos in his hands, for me.
Forget flowers. Find you a man who brings you cookies.
I’m somehow unable to speak.
I can see him scanning me up and down with adoration. I could be standing here in a brown paper bag, and Callaway would still find a way to make me feel like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
“You are breathtaking.”
Puddle. I’m a puddle of goo.
I’m so smitten with him that I may liquify on the spot.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Ocean Eyes.” His brows furrow in question.
“About that. Please explain.” I was wondering when he would ask me that. Asking for explanations seems to be our thing.
“It’s simple. Your eyes have always reminded me of the ocean. It’s my favorite place. There’s depth in its waves and a never ending current to get swept away in. The ocean is calming, like you are to me.”
That may be the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever said to him, but I meant it when I said I was all in . I want him to know every part of me.
“Vanilla and Coconut.” That catches my attention. “Your scent is what calms me. I’ve never been one to need anything to set myself at balance until you.”
If it weren’t our first date, I’d drag him in my hotel room and have my way with him. His sweet words will be my downfall. Still, I want to do this right.
I reach for the cookies and stuff them into my cross-body purse; there’s a slight chance I might need them later. The corners of my cheeks rise as I grab his hand, shutting the door behind me and leading him toward the elevators.
“Let’s get out of here.”