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Two months ago, she smiled at me for the first time. Looked at Penny and my brother, Cooper, then back at me and smiled, and I swear the universe tilted on its axis for half a second. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do a fucking thing but look at that smile and melt.
“Buddy, respectfully, she’d eat you alive and spit out your jockstrap.”
I’ve been with her four times now. Each time, she tells me it’s the last. But if she’s fucking anyone tonight, it’s me.
It’s easier to jump headfirst into hookups and parties with every bit of my spare time than think about him, after all.
You don’t look into your mother’s lifeless eyes as an eleven-year-old and not remember it like someone cut open your skull and branded the image there.
I still showed up for the date we planned—I waited over two hours just in case she’d show—but she ghosted me. I don’t want to admit that to my own brother. Not when his girlfriend is Mia’s best friend.
Sebastian Miller-Callahan. Sebastian, who has been smiling at me ever since the movie theater last fall. Sebastian, who calls me sweet when I come. Sebastian, who threw a punch for me.
can’t be more than hookups. Can’t be more than these moments, alone at night like we’re the only two people alive, my body burning for his. Chemical reactions in our bodies, a web of connections unfurling between us.
His hands grip my hips as easily as they do a baseball bat, and my nails scratch down his back, through the too-thin sweater he’s wearing.
I can’t push him out into the cold tonight. Not when he has a bruise on his face because of me. Not when he grabbed me around the waist and told me to stay put like I was breakable. Like I was the kind of girl who needed that knight in shining armor, sword on his shoulder, one of Penny’s fantasy heroes made real.
Mia’s remind me of freshly tilled earth. Beautiful in the most natural way.
Even as wet as a sewer rat, Mia di Angelo is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
You don’t invite a girl to live with you while you’re trying to get over her. That’s like deciding to quit smoking and immediately going to buy a new vape.
I would rather walk barefoot over broken glass than deal with the temptation when I can’t fucking have him and don’t deserve him in the first place.
You’re drinking a beer, but you prefer bourbon. You’re wearing a pink dress, and you hate pink. You were flirting with a total loser, letting him touch you when you don’t like being touched by strangers.” He cocks his head to the side. “Want me to keep going?”
Don’t fuck a stranger for the privilege of a bed.”
I wonder if he has this same intensity on his face when he’s in the batter’s box.
He’s achingly handsome. Practically golden. My heart thrums from his nearness. My body clenches traitorously, sending heat to places that are all too hard to ignore.
If he’s the sun, then I’m a comet, burning up from the close contact.
The ticket for Wednesday night’s game is under “Princess Leia.”
I’ve never been one for dessert before dinner, but now there’s only one thing I’m craving.
Kissing Sebastian makes me hungry. Not for food, or for breath, or even just for him. My soul expands, yearning for something on the horizon. Something I can taste in his kiss, feel in his hands, and sense in the air like a mirage.
Why aren’t I enough for her, when I know I would treat her better than anyone else in the whole goddamn world?
A future with him would break my own future. I made the choice not to compromise that when I was sixteen, after my mother threatened to disown me if I truly decided not to have a marriage and children. I promised myself that if I had to pick between my career and love, I’d always choose my career.
The thought of his seed inside me, claiming my body the way he’s already claiming my soul, makes me whimper. I want him to paint me inside and out, over and over. I want to leave marks on him too, bites and scratches and enough lipstick kisses that no one will dare look at him twice.
One way or another, Sebastian has stolen part of my heart, and I don’t want him to give it back.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “Because it matters.” He leans forward, squeezing my shoulder. “It’s always scary when it matters.”
I know every guy thinks they’ve landed the most gorgeous girl in the world, but me? I actually have her.
“You’ll always be an angel to me. You might try to be a devil to everyone else, but you’re my angel.”
“Thank you. I’ll leave a jersey out for you.” I blink as he steps back. “You’re that excited?” “Excited? I feel like I could go out and hit a fucking grand slam.”
“You’re extra pretty when you’re needy.”
I’ll take any chance to brag about my genius girlfriend.”
I have a future, but not in baseball. Even though I loved tonight’s game—even though I love playing every game—my father’s legacy belongs to him. My life can’t be an imitation of his just because it was what he wanted for me before he died. I have to make my own future, even if it means giving up the sport I’ve revolved my life around for as long as I can remember.
Part of me always wished I could escape to one of those worlds, but I don’t want that anymore. I belong right here, with him, and that is more beautiful than anything I could ever dream up while gazing into a telescope.
Mia slipped through my fingers like a damned daydream, but this is forever.
“I’m probably going to be banned for life, so it’s a good thing this is your last game.” He bursts into laughter. “There’s my girl.”
“You’re my True North, Mia Angel.”
Maybe changing your mind about something fundamental isn’t a betrayal, but a sign of growth. Of comfort. Of nights upon nights spent sleeping next to someone, curled against them like twin puzzle pieces.
But I want you to know that if I’m going to marry anyone—if I’m going to call anyone my husband—I want it to be you. I want to wear your ring.”
“I still vote golden retriever.” “That’s because you are a golden retriever.”
