17. Dakota
17
DAKOTA
I feel him everywhere.
It’s like the second my feet touched his home base—which makes up so much of Callaway—our bodies fell into this strange rhythm.
Why can’t I fight this? Usually, I’d have no issues with forgetting a guy who made it perfectly clear he wouldn’t touch me.
That's not exactly the way it went down, but still. Close enough.
Don’t make eye contact, Dakota. Let him notice you.
He seems to always notice you.
Jack gives me the rundown on what the season will look like moving forward and talks through his expectations for away games. The creative freedom he seems to be giving me has ideas flooding through my brain. I silently hope Jack sees I’m listening because I am , but my body is hyper-fixated on the man candy walking towards me.
Well, if I’m being technical, multiple man candies, but only one makes me want to crawl to him like a grown woman in heat .
“Ladies, nice of you to join us.” Jack eggs the approaching team on. I’m giggling before I realize it, causing a minimum of fifteen sets of eyes to focus on me. Lord have mercy on a broomstick, they’re pretty.
Maybe it’s the pants. The possibility is likely.
However, sweat rolls off their skin like it’s attempting to escape their natural body heat—hot, scorching, inferno-level heat .
Douse me in it, baby.
Who knew stinky and sweaty could be so sexy?
Breaking me out of my fog of lust, a freakishly tall man with dark brown skin charges up to me before I have a chance to introduce myself. He throws an enormous arm around my shoulders, making himself at home in my presence.
“And who do we have here, princess? What brings you to the devil's lair?” He winks and shimmies his shoulders like he expects me to join him.
The devil’s lair? This guy is a nutcase, and I’m here for it. He gives off teddy bear vibes. I can already tell he’s a big softie.
I decide I like him already.
His confidence is charming, and he’s not terrible to look at.
Abort that mission.
I turn slightly in his direction, finding he’s already leaving very little space in our embrace, but I want to give him the eye contact he deserves. After all, he was the first one on the team to acknowledge me and introduce himself.
Glancing his way in a lighthearted gesture, I smile up at him. “I’m Kodi.” His light whistle startles me as he tightens our embrace to form more of a hug than we’re already in. He’s a giant. I feel like my insides are being squished together .
“Kingston Baylor. I’ll take a lucky guess and say you’re the new team photographer?” Kingston nods at the camera in my hands.
“You would be correct. What gave it away?”
He doesn’t seem to take things too seriously, which excites me to be friends with him. I could use some fun in my life.
Look at me, losing some of my darkness already.
“Har har. You’ve got jokes. I like you already, Kodi girl.”
I’m pretty fond of him myself.
However, I’m realizing he’s only one of the team players I still need to meet. Somehow, Kingston managed to distract me enough to forget about the rest of them. Goosebumps reignite my skin. After evaluating my impression so far, I decide to let an attempt at fake confidence come over me, leaving them little room to judge. They’ll immediately see a strong exterior, and hopefully, that will be the first impression they keep of me.
Recognizing that I can’t jump into the devil’s lair without a backbone, and proving I’m owed respect, I confidently turn in the direction of the team, and let my nerves be forgotten. My personal insecurities throw out all signs of caution to avoid this, not them, but to keep to myself, do my job, and leave work at work. I’m already dismantled enough inside.
However, my heart is yearning for friendship and community. My potential downfall feels inevitable, essentially with it being this tangible feeling I’ve come to know too well.
Community.
The steady word comes true before my eyes.
“Thank you, King, for that very unexpected introduction. Strikers, this is Dakota Foster. Dakota, or Kodi if she’d like, was hired as our new Team Photographer. Her job will be to join the team for all public events and games, taking photos as needed. There will be times when private moments need to be documented with stipulations . Please keep that in mind. We are working on rebranding for this upcoming season and good things are coming. Do your best to make her feel welcome. And for the love of God, keep your twin in your pants, and leave her alone.”
Grunts and murmurs sound through the field with various levels of yes, coach, proving how much these players respect Jack. A few of the teammates who are introduced are named Gus, Jethro, and the Striker’s captain, Mack. They all make an effort to introduce themselves to me before heading towards the locker room.
Before everyone has a chance to escape, a deep, gravelly voice I’d recognize anywhere speaks up for everyone to hear. “Does that mean dating her is against the rules, Coach?”
There’s no way he said that.
I haven’t taken a single photo yet, and Callaway is already putting a target on my back. Hell, I haven’t even stepped foot in my office.
Coach Leggins looks towards Callaway before rolling his eyes and responding with an annoyed huff, “Hayes, why must you make things so difficult? Leave. Her. Alone.”
My eyes turn to find Callaway, only to see the widest grin spread across his face. The rest of the team seems to be entertained by his antics.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Coach.”
But Leggins is long gone, halfway across the field as he throws his arm in the air, signaling Callaway to stop while he’s ahead.
This is my chance to leave without being noticed, although I know he noticed me, but that doesn’t mean we need to chat .
Perfect. Now, I can head to my office, stuff my face with endless chocolate chip cookies, and get to work.
“Angel.”
Butterflies. An entire swarm of them takes flight in my stomach.
Why does he have this kind of effect on me? I claimed I was fine without talking to him and now my body wants to contradict itself. My attempt at avoiding him is looking more and more pathetic by the second—as if he would let me avoid him.
I turn to face the brightest blue eyes my dreams wouldn’t dare let me forget, piercing right through me. They have a way of calling me to him without asking, I might add.
Before I can think better of it, my feet move on their own in his direction until we’re standing face to face with only a foot separating us. The bleacher level of the stadium lights has diminished to darkness, leaving only the overhead lights spotlighting the field.
I feel like a speck in such a grand place. At this moment, though, it’s me and Cal, a truth that weakens me.
“You following me, Callaway?” He knows I’m following him , yet he doesn’t call me out on it.
I’m doing my best to seem unfazed by him and the one simple word he loves using in reference to my name. Angel.
Puddle—I need to clean myself up. This can’t happen.
I move to hold my arms across my chest, most likely the movement bringing attention where it shouldn’t. Yet Callaway clearly has gentleman written on his tombstone because he’s not the least bit fazed.
Like a firmly planted rock.
He chuckles, “Always. Couldn't help it if I tried.”
He’s constantly surprising me with his kindness. I’m not being unkind, but I wear my damage like a shield, fighting to protect myself from letting him in. His kindness has no conditions. He wants me, the good, the bad, and the damaged. Since I’m feeling generous, I send him a small smile, ensuring it’s not quite bright enough to give him the wrong intentions.
“It seems you won’t have to look very far considering I work here now.” I hold my badge in the air, shaking my hips playfully—the dance is doing a terrible job of hiding my excitement.
He always seems to find a way to make me laugh. It’s been so long that I almost forget what it feels like to be so swept up in a moment that a giggle breaks free.
His eyes follow the movement of my hips, taking his attention from the topic of our conversation. The clarity in them settles into a hazy shadow of want. I’ve never seen him hold himself back like this. I bet he would already be finding a desperate reason to touch me if we weren’t at our current place of work. His restraint is admirable.
He wastes no time complimenting me, “They’re lucky to have you. I’ll say I knew you first when you make it big.”
Please don’t be nice to me. It only makes it more difficult to deny dating you.
Chuckling to myself, I reply, “This is what small people like me consider big. I’d be a fool not to see that.” I would have accepted the job had they asked me to photograph the bathrooms.
Accepting any job at the caliber of the Strikers Organization is a big deal.
My thoughts are exposed as Callaway’s sudden movement centers me again. He reaches his right hand up to cradle my face and gently cups the back of my neck. My body heats at not only his touch, but also the vulnerability of this moment .
“Don’t sell yourself short, Dakota. You have far too much to offer. You deserve to be here. Let yourself believe that.”
I draw in a short breath, stunned on the spot.
He’s never seen my work, yet he believes in the success of it. I’m learning things about Callaway I have a feeling he doesn’t let many people see. Like how he celebrates even the smallest successes of the ones he loves. He goes to lengths to make sure Navy never feels alone and knows how important she is to him—I saw that first-hand when she and I were in college. From the short time I’ve known Callaway, I can confidently say he’s intentional with all the right things—it’s humbling to witness and an encouragement to me.
The honor and weight of seeing it, and now being on the receiving end of his care feels exponential. I know deep down if I allowed myself, I could love him. That’s a dangerous feeling for someone without a tribe of people who love her. I could drown myself in him. Except the gut feeling that haunts me is of him seeing the scars that are so deep I work hard to hide them.
I’m a fool to think he doesn’t already see them because he does. Callaway has been able to read me from the second we met. I have to be strong enough to admit the risk isn’t something I can leave to chance. A physical connection is the only thing I can offer him. He can take my body and make it his. But my heart…that stays locked up tight.
Although I’m not about to offer myself up again.
Realizing he’s waiting for a response, my face softens. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
I quickly stand to attention, drawing my composure back. He senses my withdrawal before pulling away and moving to hold the straps to his bat bag like a lifeline; it’s either that or a restraint to keep himself from moving in on me.
It looks like I was wrong because before I know it, he’s moving closer with that sexy and invincible ego on lock, stepping up to my side while I stand here, unable to breathe.
I’m immobile and have no plans to change that anytime soon.
Callaway cranes his neck to look at me from the side, while I avoid eye contact at all costs, my gaze still looking straight ahead. His large hand comes into view as he tugs on the tip of my curled lock. He begins twirling it between his rough fingers, lightly humming as he examines the colors in my brown strands. His attention to something as simple as my hair makes my cheeks blush twelve shades brighter. It feels like he’s examining a far more intimate part of me—maybe he is.
“You’re bound to be great, sweetheart. Fuck whoever told you that you weren’t.”
He walks away, and I let myself sink into his words. They feel like a roadmap to the darkest parts of me. How is he so intuitive to my life? I’ve let him dig his way in too far already. So I decide to do what any grown woman would and yell across the field at him. “I’m still not going on a date with you, Callaway. It’s never going to happen.”
The deepest chuckle invades my ears from yards away as he takes off in the distance. He’s got the tightest ass with tree trunk thighs I’d like to feel the weight above me. That didn’t go as planned.
If I gathered anything from our conversation, it’s that I’m royally screwed.