Page 11 of Tagging Bases

Nobody raises their hand. The only sounds are the scratching of pens on paper and the ticking of the clock above the door to freedom. Suddenly, Olivia’s hand shoots up, and I smile. I’m not surprised she knows the answer.

But Hargrove doesn’t call on her. Instead, his eyes land on me.

“Mr. Hollingsworth, care to enlighten us with the answer?”

I sit up in my seat, run a hand through my hair, and clear mythroat. “Uh, well…”Think faster, dipshit.“First, the Cuban exiles were poorly trained and equipped. They were also greatly outnumbered by Castro’s forces. But the biggest issue was that the US failed to provide the necessary air support. The exiles were left stranded on the beach, and most were either killed or captured within a few days.”

A rare smile appears on Hargrove’s face. It’s gone before I can take a picture. “Excellent, Mr. Hollingsworth. It seems you’ve been paying attention this semester, after all.”

A flush of pride washes over me at the compliment. My eyes lock on Olivia’s. She’s smiling too.

Perhaps there’s still a chance for us.

By the time class ends,I feel as if I’ve spent a year inside a torture chamber. My body creaks in all the wrong places as I slide out of my seat. My head throbs incessantly, and I scrounge through my messenger bag for some Advil.

“You look like shit.”

Lifting my head, I watch as Olivia climbs the stairs with a smirk on her face. I huff out a laugh and return her compliment. “And you look as wide-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever.”

She rolls her eyes. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Hollingsworth.”

Grinning, I pop the Advil into my mouth, swallow it dry, and hold my hand out. “Want to walk with me? I could use some fresh air after being cooped up in here.”

Olivia nods and links her fingers through mine. We walk out of the lecture hall, hands swinging between us, and into the bustling corridor. The surge of students rushing to their next class propels us out into the courtyard.

I inhale deeply, relieved to be free of Mr. Monotony. If it weren’t a required class and Olivia didn’t sign up with me, I’dhave dropped it already. History has always been my least favorite subject. Give me complex formulas any day.

“I still can’t believe you knew the answer to Hargrove’s question,” Olivia says, breaking the comfortable silence. “I thought for sure you were going to make a fool of yourself.”

“What can I say? I’m more than just a pretty face.”

“More of an insufferable know-it-all, if anything,” she mutters.

“Ouch!” I clutch my chest and stagger back. “Break my heart, why don’t you? And here I thought you appreciated my intellect.”

“I do. But I think I appreciate your ass more.”

She pinches my left butt cheek, and I let out an undignified squeak. My eyes widen as I take in my girlfriend, who’s never been this brazen before.

“Who are you, and what have you done with sweet Olivia Rose?” I ask as I rub my butt, because damn, did she pinch me hard.

She shrugs, not in the least bit bothered by such a public display of affection. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt your big ass up.”

Internally, I grimace. Externally, I wink and say, “All you had to do was ask, beautiful.”

“All right. Then here I am asking. Daniel Joseph Hollingsworth, why in the hell are you wearing flip-flops in March?”

I blink, not expecting the subject change. “Huh?”

She glances down at my feet, snug as a bug in a pair of black flip-flops. The kind with the strap that goes between the big toe and its neighbor. Following her gaze, I wiggle my toes.

“My feet like to be free. You know this, Liv.”

“Do I? Lately, I feel like there are things about you that I thought I knew, but I don’t.”

We come to a stop in front of the fountain at the far end of the courtyard. The spring sun is high in the sky, and between its rays and Olivia’s comment, I’m beginning to sweat profusely. Itake a seat on the concrete ledge and pat my palm on the open space beside me.

“Like what?” I ask after she sits down and places her messenger bag on her lap. I take mine off and set it down at my feet.

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