Page 56 of Make My Heart Malt

“Are you sure? These girls are ready to go.”

I laugh. Any woman he picks up is ready to go. All he has to do is mention he’s the third baseman for Seattle, and they flock to him like seagulls. With that power comes a lot of responsibility, but that’s not a word in his vocabulary. Like the one time he unknowingly hooked up with the coach’s daughter of our biggest rival.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Alright. You're missing out. I guess I’ll have to occupy both these ladies.”

Everyone likes to call me the Home Run Playboy, but Henderson is the biggest playboy in the entire league. He lives by the potato chip motto: you can’t have just one.

“Well, actually, I’m kind of seeing someone,” I spit out for no reason, because we are seeing each other, right? I’d make her my girlfriend in a heartbeat, but I’m not entirely sure where her head is at.

“Shit! Are you back with the Brazilian model?”

“Camila.”

“Yeah. She’s smokin’.”

“No. Actually it’s not her.”

“Oh shit. You should give me her number.”

“That’s not happening. She’s way too good for you.”

A boisterous laugh sounds through the speaker. “You’re probably right. So, who’s the mystery woman?”

I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees. I scrub my hand down my face, trying to determine how much information I want to feed him. “Actually, I know her from my hometown. We grew up together.”

“Like a childhood sweetheart?”

“Something like that. I don’t know. We’re seeing where things go.” That’s the truth. While we’ve never discussed our relationship, we definitely have the orgasms down pat.

“Enjoy your night alone, jerking off to some childhood crush fantasy. I’ll be out having someone else jerk me off.”

I huff out a laugh. “You’re such an asshole. Keep your dick in your pants.”

“It’s more fun when it’s not.”

I shake my head. He’s going to find himself in a heap of trouble, and I’ll laugh in his face when he does. “Later.” I disconnect the call.

As soon as I set down my phone, it rings again. I’m convinced it’s Stallman trying to convince me to go out, but instead, Dessa’s name flashes on the screen with a FaceTime call. A wide smile spreads across my face.

“Hey, Tates.”

Dessa’s beautiful face fills the screen. “Hey. How are you?”

“Much better now that you called.”

Her sweet laugh sounds through the speaker. “So, you’ve been waiting around for me to call?”

“Do I sound desperate if I say yes?”

“Desperate looks good on you.” She gives me a sweetsmile. “Don’t feel bad, I’ve been desperate to talk to you too. Oh! And I found my notebook earlier today.”

I fake cough into my hand to fight the smile that wants to break free. “Where did you find it?”

“It was on a shelf in my kitchen I never use, wedged between two cookbooks. Apparently, my drunk self wanted to play a cruel joke on my sober self.” She giggles. “Also, thank you for the present. I got it today. In fact, I’m currently wearing it.”

After I ruined her Minnesota jersey, I told her I'd buy her a new one. A better one. Mine.

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