Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance (47 page)

“Home?”

“Yeah, she’s sick.”

Disappointment stabs deep into my chest. Or is this concern? “Sick? How?”

“I don’t know. She left rehearsal early today because she started throwing up.”

“Is she okay?”

“I’m sure she is.” He cranes his neck to watch the rest of the team rush inside. “Check your messages. If you had plans, she probably texted you.”

“Thanks.”

A visual shiver crawls over him. “I don’t do vomit, man. Blood and guts? Cool. Vomit?
Nope.
”

I pat his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll make it through this.”

“I hope so.”

I head for the locker room, sifting through the victory high-fives and pats on the back from my fellow players, and dig through my backpack for my phone. Just as Grant said, there’s a single message from Eliza.

I’m not feeling well tonight. Reschedule? Sorry.

My fingers start tapping out a reply, telling her that she doesn’t have to apologize and that I’ll see her on campus Monday if she’s feeling better.

I nearly hit send but I pause, quickly feeling that dark worry rise up in my gut again. I’d much rather go check on her myself but I can’t just wander over to her house. If her dad comes home, it’ll be hell trying to explain what I’m doing there.

I drop my phone into my locker and peel off the rest of my uniform while I try to think of a way to see her tonight.

I should be buzzed as all hell, ready for a night of partying with the rest of the school. We just won
the Homecoming game.
This school hasn’t done that since the late 90’s. No one’s sleeping tonight. It’s going to be a straight-up hootenanny here until dawn — and I’m the quarterback. Girls, booze, whatever I want tonight, I could probably snap my fingers and have it hand-delivered to me on a silver fucking platter.

But all I really want to do is see Eliza.

After a quick rinse in the shower, I get dressed and step out into the hallway of the athletic center, flipping my phone over and over in my hand. There has to be some way to—

A sharp giggle pierces my ears and I pause before rounding the corner towards the offices.

I peek around, spotting a middle-aged woman in a too-short skirt lingering outside of the offices with Cary Pierce.

He’s got his hands all over her and she just keeps on giggling while her own hands scratch down to his groin.

Yeesh.

The Coach leads her away, wrapping his arm around her and whispering God-knows-what into her ear.

A smile strikes me. If the stories Eliza has told me hold any truth at all, then Cary Pierce will party harder than anyone else tonight. It’s possible he won’t make it back home at all until morning…

Leaving Eliza home alone all night long.

***

I poke out a finger, being careful not to drop the cups of coffee cart brew in my hands as I push the doorbell. It rings loudly inside, echoing off the bare walls for several seconds before falling silent once more. I wait a few long moments, listening hard for any movement before tapping the bell again.

Still, nothing stirs inside.

I balance both cups in one hand while reaching for my phone with the other.

Answer the door.

I send the text and drop the phone back into my pocket before kicking the door with my foot.

Finally, I sense movement on the other side; the gentle tapping of little feet on the stairwell.

“Ellie!” I shout, kicking the door a few more times.

“Junior?”

The door opens quickly and Eliza stares out at me with hard, suspicious eyes. Her face is slightly paler than usual but that just makes her blue eyes stand out more.

“What are you doing here?”

“We won the game,” I answer.

“I heard.”

“So, I came to see you.”

“I told you I was sick…” She slinks back a little in the door frame. “If you came here to collect, I need a rain check.”

“Relax, Ellie. I didn’t come here for sex. I came here because Grant told me you got sick at rehearsal and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Skepticism screws up her face. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m fine,” she says, fighting the blush in her white cheeks. “Just a little stomach bug going around, I think.”

“Good.
That you’re fine
,”
I add quickly. “Not the stomach bug part…”

I stare at her peaked face, holding back every urge I have to risk catching whatever she has. Somehow, she’s just as beautiful in a dirty tank top and flannel pants as she is in her collection of short, come-fuck-me skirts — possibly more so.

I hand her a cup. “Think you can stomach some coffee? Black, as you like it.”

“Thank you. Maybe…” She brings it to her nose to inhale the scent through the hole at the top. “Mmm… That’s the first smell in like twelve hours that hasn’t made me nauseous…”

“And…”
I reach behind my back and grip the soft plush hiding in my belt. “I thought this guy might make you feel better, too.”

She smiles wide as I hand her the teddy bear.
“Aww…”
she laughs and hugs it to her chest. “Thank you. That’s so…”

“Thoughtful?”

“Yeah.”

I pause, completely fixated on the glee trembling her cheeks. “Can I come in?”

Her face instantly falls. “I don’t think so, Junior. My dad could come home
any minute..
.”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll be busy for a while tonight,” I say. “I saw him getting cozy with some woman after the game...”

“Typical,” she smirks. “Even as a coach, he’s scooping up victory hoes.”

“I parked down the block and walked over,” I add. “Even if he does come home, he won’t know I’m here. I’ll sneak out the back and he’ll be none the wiser.”

“You’ve
really
planned this out, haven’t you?” she chuckles.

“What can I say? I’m a rebel.”

“You’re an
idiot
.”

“Come on, Ellie.” I throw on a pout and bat my eyes. “Don’t leave a poor boy hanging outside. It’s getting dark. I could get
mugged
...”

“Fine.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a step back. “But just for a few minutes. Okay?”

“Just a few minutes,” I repeat. I draw an X over my chest. “Cross my heart.”

She smiles again.

Chapter 20

Eliza

I step back and Junior follows me into the house. My senses spike on full-alert — just waiting for the moment when my father’s car growls into the driveway.

I glance at any reflective surface we pass on the way upstairs. I must look like hell at this point. There’s dried sweat on my brow. My hair sits in a messy bun on my head and I’m pretty sure I haven’t washed this top in weeks.

Luckily, Junior doesn’t seem to notice any of these flaws. Either that or he’s picked up quite a few acting skills from me during our study sessions.

We climb the stairs to the third floor. I hesitate for a brief moment with my hand on the door knob, quickly realizing that I’m about to invite a man into my damn bedroom. My heart stops but I push the door open anyway to let him inside.

“This is your room?” he chuckles, his brown eyes invaded by the bright pink colors and cartoon cats.

“It sure is… or rather, it’s the room of the daughter Cary Pierce
thinks
he has. It was like this when I moved in.”

I stand still, watching as Junior wanders over to the bed. He sets his cup down next to my lamp and his eyes scan the room again with interest. I take a quick sip from my coffee. It’s warm and comforting but I can’t seem to shake the awkward feeling off my shoulders.

“So… what did she look like?” I ask.

“Who?”

“My dad’s victory hoe.”

He laughs. “Oh, your standard blonde, I guess. Long legs, big tits. An outfit about ten years too young for her…”

“Sounds about right,” I smile. “And there were no more victory hoes left for the star quarterback to take home?”

“You are my victory hoe.” I raise an eyebrow and his grin falls. “I mean…” he chokes on his tongue, “that sounded
way
different in my head.”

I laugh at the embarrassment on his face. “It’s okay. I know what you mean…
I think
.”

I take another sip of coffee to try and break the chill in the room but it doesn’t work. I haven’t been able to shake it since I came home — that rush of shivers dancing down my spine, unable to make up its mind whether it wants me to feel hot or cold. I set the cup down and grab a zip-up sweater off the back of my desk chair to throw on.

“Aren’t you warm?” he asks. “It’s hot in here.”

“Can’t seem to break this cold chill, actually,” I answer, feeling it scratch down my back again. “Must be part of the stomach bug or something...”

“Here…” Junior steps over to me and lays his hands on my arms. He rubs them up and down, creating friction on my skin. “Let me warm you up.”

Another shiver rolls over my body but it isn’t from the cold. “Thank you.” My teeth chatter as I say it and he grins at me.

“Come on.” He guides me over to the bed and sits me down, grabbing a folded up blanket near the edge to wrap me up with. “Luckily, you’re looking at the king of sick days.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Nothing makes you feel better like a big blanket, a comfy bed, and—” he reaches over to my bedside table and snatches the TV remote, “really shitty television.”

I laugh and collapse against my pillows. “Sounds like a plan.”

Junior slides onto the bed and a dizzy rush trembles me as he lies down behind me, wrapping his arm around me to hold the blanket in place. “I always preferred the cartoon channels — still do, but I understand if you’d rather binge on something a little more
mature
.”

“I could go for some cartoons,” I smile.

“Good answer…”

Junior surfs for a while before finally finding a good channel amongst the thousands available on my father’s useless satellite dish.

He tosses the remote aside and tightens his grip on me. His heat blends with mine and I quickly forget all about the chill taking hold of my skin.

***

I wake up the next morning still in his arms, locked in a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

Junior stirs as I do. His eyes flick with confusion but it quickly dissipates as he realizes where he is.

He gazes down at me and smiles. “Hey...”

“Hey.”

A knock strikes the door.

“Hey, Eliza!”

Junior bolts up on the bed.

“Closet, closet, closet—”
I shove him towards it and he almost falls to the floor. He rights himself and manages to hide away just a second before my doors opens.

Dad walks in, wearing the same clothes he wore last night. My nose twitches, able to sense the mix of cheap booze and dollar store perfume on his collar from across the room.

“Hey—” he greets, smiling. “Missed you at the game last night.”

I nod, focusing all my self-control on not drawing attention to the closet. “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t feeling well and—”

“We won.”

“Yeah, I could hear the screaming on campus from all the way out here. Congrat—”

“Try and make the next one, all right?” he interrupts. “It looks good for you to show your support.”

I force a smile. “Of course. I’ll try. Sorry, I missed—”

He leaves before I even finish the sentence.

I stand up and walk silently to the closet. Junior has concealed himself behind a line of my blouses but he’s completely visible from the waist down.

“He’s gone.”

Junior steps out, keeping as light on his feet as possible, and breathes a thick sigh of relief. “You feeling better?” he whispers to me. 

I nod, realizing that the overwhelming
ick
I felt all day yesterday has disappeared. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His eyes trace a halo around my head and he grins.

I quickly reach up to adjust the nest in my hair, feeling a rush of blood to my face. “Ugh, I probably look
awful
.”

“You look beautiful.”

My heart flutters. I drop my hands, suddenly not caring about the possibility of severe bed head.

“I should get going. I need to meet with my sister.”

My eyes bounce to the clock. It’s just after ten on Sunday. I can barely remember the last time I slept this well or woke up so refreshed.

I open my door and stick my head out, focusing my hearing to pinpoint my dad’s location in the house.

There’s a brief shuffling of feet on the second floor somewhere beneath me. I signal for Junior to stay back as I descend the stairs, inching closer to the master bedroom below. 

My dad’s shower turns on and I breathe easier.

“Come on.” I wave up the stairs at Junior and he follows me down. 

We rush to the ground floor, my eyes constantly over my shoulder as we move. He throws the front door open and I force him outside onto the concrete stairs.

“Thanks for coming over,” I whisper, fighting to be heard over the harsh chirping of country birds. “And for the coffee. I owe you one.”