Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
* * *
Tate: So…no late-night sneaking into my apartment?
Oh jeez.
My blood travels south.
Dustin looks over at me, suspicious. “You good? What’s Tate saying?”
He knows, without having to ask, that’s who I’m texting.
I just ignore him.
Tate: Because I just slipped into bed and I would realllyyy love to see you right now…
I push to stand.
“You’re leaving?” Josh asks, his voice pitched high.
“No, man. I just need to use the bathroom.”
In truth, I would love to leave, but I understand Josh needs me. This is an all-hands-on-deck situation, and I can’t abandon him. More than that, I can’t leave Dustin and Nick to keep things under control. I just know they’d screw this up somehow. I can imagine Nick chiming in with, “You know what will calm your nerves? A night in Vegas. Yeah, let’s do it. I got a plane on standby.”
Down the hall, I pass the bathroom and head toward the guest bedroom instead. I shut the door and lock it before immediately dialing Tate’s number.
She answers quickly. “Grant? Hey.”
“I’m not leaving,” I reply to the question in her tone. “I just snuck away for a second.”
She laughs. “You’re crazy. What’s going on over there?”
“Oh just…”
Out in the living room, I hear Dustin’s voice. “Do NOT get that thing out again, man! I swear to god!”
The mannequin is making a reappearance it seems. I barely restrain a groan.
“You don’t want to know,” I tell her.
“That bad?”
“How much did Josh tell you about tomorrow?”
“Just that he’s going to”—she lowers her voice—“propose at the restaurant where they had their first date and he wants us all there to surprise Sophia afterward. Sophia thinks her parents are coming in to watch the baseball game. I don’t know anything else. You can’t break away?”
I drag my hand down my face, annoyed at the situation. “I’d feel like an asshole.”
“I get it. Yeah.”
“And I have to be at the stadium at 6 AM tomorrow…”
She groans, and as innocuous as the sound is, I still feel it low in my stomach.
Every part of me wants to pry open the window across the room, shimmy out, and dash over to Tate’s house. We could spend the rest of the night in her bed, forgoing sleep and all our commitments.
I think back to our kiss this morning before I left her apartment. At her door, I stalled as long as possible with a shoe I was pretending wouldn’t go on right. “Damn laces.” Then I stood to find Tate hanging there, waiting for me.
She had her lips rolled between her teeth, trying to fight back her smile.
“All good?” She was pointing to my shoe.
I approached her and nodded. “All good.”
I stood there for a moment, looming over her. I watched her swallow, those delicate muscles working in her neck. Then I lifted my gaze to her lips and I kissed her.
When I pulled back just enough so our lips were still barely touching, I told her I’d see her later. She sagged back against the door, looking like I’d just dosed her with a love potion. I liked her bewildered smile, the happy sheen in her eyes. I would have kissed her again if Josh hadn’t called me yet again.
“I missed you today.”
I can hear the smile in her voice. “Oh yeah? How much? Enough to come visit me after you’re done there?”
Dammit. I want to, I do, but I have no clue when we’ll wrap up, and I have to get at least a few hours of sleep tonight before our game tomorrow. I can’t jeopardize anything with the team. All I have to do is think of my dad sitting in his apartment back home in Phoenix, tuning in on his small TV, waiting to see his son take the field and make him proud. I can’t chance it all for a late night with Tate when I know we’re going to have a million more nights to come, at least we will if I have anything to say about it.
Besides, there’s something to be said about anticipation. Tate and I met at that party just before opening day back in March. It’s June. A lifetime has passed between then and now. I’ve suffered my fair share. I hung back and let Michael swoop in and I managed to not throw blows. I watched her in the stands at my baseball games and fought the urge to wave and smile. On a dozen sleepless nights, I’ve resisted the urge to message her on Instagram both long paragraphs outlining all my feelings for her as well as the occasional impulsive You up?
Now I have her begging me to come over and I’m standing here like a shmuck in Josh’s apartment?
Fuck it.
“I’ll come right after I leave,” I tell her suddenly. “I’ll come straight there.”
Screw a taxi. I’ll run if I have to.