“I don’t see you wearing number twenty-one. Where’s your jersey?” “I’m more of a fourteen gal myself.” Her softball number. I keep my mouth shut to not out that I’ve looked at that photo of her on her dad’s desk too many times and know the reference well. “If you’re going to start coming to my games, I better see Rhodes on your back and I’m not talking about my brother.” “Is this some athlete kink you got? Need to see a girl in your jersey?” The old flirty side of me that I’ve kept hidden and locked down for the most part since Max came into my life is itching to break free. I pop my
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