Page 58 of The Strike Zone

“It’s still embarrassing.”

“Scout, you’re holding the world’s most disgusting coffee, and you’re proud of it. That’s what you should be embarrassed about.” He grinned.

I managed to return a weak smile, but that’s all it was. The excitement I’d buzzed on this morning, and—fine, being honest—about seeing Parker had drained away, leaving nothing but an aftermath of annoyance and frustration.

He must have sensed it, because the next thing my shoulders were held in his grip.

“Scout, the Lions is not the place to be embarrassed. You don’t think every single one of the guys who works here has done something they’d rather forget. I mean, look at Ace.”

He nodded over to where Ace and Tanner were laughing with Pablo.

“He choked last year in front of the president, and seventy thousand people, and he still summoned the strength to pull his pants on every morning. A few years ago, on my very first day here as a rookie, my mom sent me the biggest bunch of balloons, like the biggest you’d ever seen, and the idiot who delivered them didn’t tie the weight properly, and they got loose.”

Parker pointed upward, and the three of us tipped our heads back until we could see the top of the stadium seven floors up.

“Yeah, we couldn’t get them down, but every time one of those fuckers finally popped or died and floated to the ground, Pablo announced it on the loudspeaker to come and collect it. It went on for two whole fucking months.”

My eyes had widened so much, it was almost impossible not to smile.

“That’s better.” Parker said softly, “I like it when you smile.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now drink your disgusting coffee and get back to work,” he replied, his tone full of jest.

I was so busy staring at Parker that I’d almost forgotten Alice was standing next to the two of us, until she coughed pointedly. The pair of us managed to break out of the staring competition we were having and turned to find her watching us. I was about to ask her why she was looking at us so strangely when she spoke.

“I like you, Parker King. Keep up the good work.”

Parker scoffed a laugh. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now I need to go and rescue my coffee from Ace before he drinks it.”

“See you later.” I chuckled, though he only managed a couple of steps before I had the urge to call him back. “Hey, Parker?” Moving away from Alice for a shred of privacy, I asked, “Did you tell Mark you had the hots for me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I wasn’t expecting the disappointment at his words to hit me quite so hard. Hard enough that I had to swallow down the tears that threatened to make another appearance.

“Oh. Cool.”

“I don’t have the hots for you, Davison. The hots are for sixteen-year-olds, jerking off to posters of models on their bedroom walls.” He continued, “Ilikeyou. A lot. I have done for a long time. I want to date you, and you better believe I’ll treat you a damn site better than that fucking douche. I told you I’m okay with waiting, and when you’re ready, I’ll show you exactly how fucking awesome you are and exactly how you should be treated. And I will wake up every morning knowing how fucking lucky I am to have you.”

My mouth must have dropped open because he tucked his finger under my chin and gently closed it.

“See you around, Davison. Thanks for my coffee.”

FIFTEEN

PARKER

“STRIKE.”

My ear rang from the volume of the umpire yelling. I swear he was getting louder with every call he made.

Or he was trying to be heard over the din of Lions fans cheering at the call, especially the ones behind the strike zone.

It was like they’d collectively decided to play umpire, several thousand of them sitting there, eyes trained on the ball flying straight into my glove and shouting the strike before he could.

Change over.

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