Chapter sixteen
Adrian
Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling and grin. Because for once, my mind wasn’t haunted by phantoms of Sam. It had the real, palpable memories of her hands on my chest. Of my hands on her waist, my lips on her cheek.
Her fingers against my scalp—with intention, this time.
Propping up on one elbow, I grab my phone from the nightstand and unlock it. Before I check any of my new messages, I type one out to Sam.
ME
Good morning, mi novia hermosa (my beautiful girlfriend). Last night was real, in case you need the reminder as much as I do.
But since I’m the one who’s been dreaming of that conversation for months, you should maybe be the one reminding me.
She doesn’t respond right away, creating a niggling doubt at the edge of my thoughts. But it’s early, and she’s probably getting ready for school.
I click to my conversation with Griffin, and the doubts settle down.
WEST
Heard from Sam. I’m glad for you, man.
But you know I will absolutely still end you if you hurt her, best friend or not.
ME
Thanks, bro. I’d want you to end me if I did anything to hurt her. It’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.
Thanks for giving me the push to talk to her last night.
WEST
I didn’t push you. I was trying to intimidate you. You jumped to conclusions all on your own. But I’m glad you did.
Clicking off the phone, I get up and quickly make the bed before taking a shower. I might need some cold water to jump-start my brain so I don’t screw up on the field today just because I’m half delirious from lack of sleep.
Scratch that—I’m fully delirious. Half from lack of sleep, and half from the memory of Sam’s lips whispering against my ear.
By the time I’m showered and dressed in warm-up gear, I have a text from Sam.
SAM
Yes, last night was very real. If you’re going to explain your Spanish phrases now, when do I get the translation for cielo?
Grinning like a lunatic, my fingers fly across the keyboard.
ME
Not yet. Maybe soon.
SAM
I can’t believe the girlfriend title isn’t getting me anywhere. That’s cruel.
ME
You tormented me for the past year. You get a taste of your own medicine.
SAM
Not the same! I didn’t know! You’re tormenting me on purpose.
ME
When can I see you?
SAM
You’re just changing the subject. I see right through your tricks, menso.
But soon, I hope.
ME
Tonight?
SAM
Aren’t you flying to DC after the game tonight?
ME
Shoot. Yes. I forgot.
SAM
You forgot your own schedule?
ME
You make me forget everything but you.
SAM
I’m really really not used to this dynamic yet.
ME
What dynamic?
SAM
The openly flirting dynamic.
ME
I’ll double down so you get used to it faster.
SAM
You have two away series in a row, don’t you?
I frown at the phone screen. Beneath the simple question, I sense the disappointment in my own chest is echoed in Sam’s.
Realizing the time, I hit call by her name as I lace up my shoes.
“Hey,” I say when she answers. “I wanted to hear your voice. Because yes, we’re gone for a week, and I hate that I’m not going to see you again for that long.”
I get into my truck, hearing her heavy sigh even with the background noise of the garage door opening.
She says, “Yeah, this isn’t great timing to start a new relationship, is it?
Not that any time during baseball season is great.
I’m starting to understand Danae’s dislike for baseball a little more now. ”
The reality of the packed season schedule hits me in a new way. Because for the first time, it’s keeping me apart from someone. “I’ll call you every day,” I say. “Answer when you can, or I’ll leave you rambling voicemails when you can’t.”
There’s silence on the line—the kind of silence that makes a man worry. “Sam? Still there? Are voicemails offensive to you?”
She chuckles at first, but there’s tension in her voice when she asks, “You’re .
. . you’re really sure about this, right?
Sure about me? Because you’ve seen me in a lot of seasons.
” I’m confused by her statement at first, but understanding hits when she adds, “In some of my . . . not-the-best seasons. You’re really sure? I wouldn’t blame you if—”
“The most sure, Sam. I’m positive,” I emphasize. “Were you awake worrying about this last night?”
She makes a hmmm sound, and I can visualize the shrug of her slight shoulders.
I wish I had been there to hold her last night, to reassure her of my feelings when those doubts started talking to her.
“I sat outside your apartment for an hour. I confessed I’ve liked you for over a year.
This is not an impulsive feeling, Sam. I’m extremely sure. ”
“Okay,” she answers, her voice gaining strength. “I’m sorry for asking for the reassurance. I’m going to try not to ask you that a lot. I’m sorry.”
Something twists in my gut at her words.
At the history—the pain—behind them. History that I don’t even fully know yet.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I tell her as I stop at a red light.
“And you won’t need to ask a lot because I’m going to constantly tell you how I feel about you.
Now that it’s out in the open, I have a year’s worth of declarations ready to be unleashed. You’re going to get sick of it.”
She giggles, and I briefly close my eyes to fully cherish the sound, to catalog the moment in my memory files. A loud horn blaring behind me brings me back to attention, and I pull forward through the green light.
“You’d better pay attention to the road, menso,” Sam says, finally sounding like herself again. “Good luck at the game today. I’ll be watching the recap when I get done with clients, so make sure you have plenty of highlights for me to fangirl over.”
I didn’t think it was possible to be more hung up on Sam than I already was, but her flirty motivation has me hung fully out to dry.
Holding my ball cap over my heart, I watch as a high school choir group sings the national anthem. Drew stands next to me, and he mutters out the side of his mouth, “Why are you grinning like a loon today?” I glance at him, and he adds, “More than the usual, anyway.”
It’s true. The smile never left my face through batting practice and warm-ups. I have too much to be happy about to frown. Plus, I fully intend to play the best game of my life today—to give Sam more highlights than she can track—so there will really be no reason to frown.
“I’m just in a good mood,” I say to Drew as we return our hats to our heads and applaud the choir. He eyes me as we jog to the dugout to get our gloves. We walk slowly toward the field, and I waggle my eyebrows as I ask, “Can you keep a secret?”
He gives me a suspicious look but says, “Yeaaah. Will the secret get me in trouble?”
I act like I’m thinking about the answer. “Probably not.” As we near his spot at first, I say, “I’m dating Sam.”
Drew stops short, then grabs my arm to halt my progress. “Wait, what? West? Griffin’s sister? That Sam?”
I grin impishly rather than responding.
“Is he going to kill you?” Drew asks. “Is he going to kill me for knowing this and not telling him?”
“No, no, he knows,” I say as I start taking backward steps away from him. “No danger to your life or mine.”
A smile quirks Drew’s lips. “You owe me more backstory. But let’s win this game first.”
“I plan on it!” I yell over my shoulder as I jog to third base.
Reaching my spot, I wave a hand at the fans filling the seats of the Crowns stadium. Smacking my right fist against the glove on my left hand, I smile.
I’m going to enjoy this game.
By the time the music starts playing for the seventh inning stretch, we’re up by four runs—two of which I’ve scored. The few minutes of dead time during “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” gives Drew a chance to pry me with rapid-fire questions.
“How long have you been dating?”
“Since last night.”
“How long have you liked her?”
“A ridiculously long time.”
“Define ridiculously long.”
“Over a year.”
“And she likes your pathetic self back?”
“Her only character flaw.”
“Are you serious about her? Serious, serious?”
That question gives me pause, and I look Drew in the eyes. “Why does everyone assume I can’t be serious?”
He narrows his eyes in a look that clearly communicates “Uh, please.”
Huffing a breath, I say. “Yes, I like to have fun. But I can be serious. And I’ve never been more serious about anything than how I feel about Sam. What you have with Lily—I’m going to do everything in my power to create that with Sam. As long as she’ll let me.”
The crowd’s applause clues us in that it’s time for our turn at bat.
I’m first up in the batting lineup this inning, so I strap on the protective arm guard.
Drew pats the batting helmet on my head and says, “I’m happy for you, chamo.
I hope you and Sam do find what Lily and I have.
Because it’s the best—way better than any home run or game win.
” I clap him on the shoulder, and he grins as he adds, “But go hit a homer anyway.”
Taking his words to heart, remembering that Sam will be watching these highlights later, I settle into my stance and home in on the pitcher’s eyes.
The crack of the ball against the bat is one of those satisfying collisions you feel reverberate through your bones. The kind you know without looking is out of the park. I press a kiss to my fingers and hold them up as I jog around the bases, all the way home.