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I crank my neck at Bodhi, giving him a wicked grin. “My social media girl.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
He’s one to talk. The dude is the definition of pussy-whipped, and it wasn’t always that way. Now, his head turns at every sign of Navy’s fiery red curls.
“How about you worry about your own woman?” I taunt him, barreling the ball to first, right smack dab into Mack’s glove.
“Oh, trust me, I do,” Bodhi shouts from catcher’s position, coming down on two to start the next inning.
“What’s Tenley doing anyway?” King walks beside me as we take our position on the field, waiting for the next batter to approach the plate.
I lock in on my little venom. Her hair is in two braided buns high on her head. She’s sporting denim overalls with one strap undone and an oversized Strikers jersey underneath.
Fuck. I can’t stop staring. I also know if she turns slightly to the right, I’ll catch the tiniest little bump sticking out.
Our baby.How is it possible for her to get any more beautiful than she already was?
Answering King’s question, I turn to face him. “She’s working on Jethro’saesthetic. Whatever the hell that means,” I tell him, fisting a handful of sunflower seeds into my mouth. “Something about setting him up with a decent profile picture because the one of him kissing his pet lizard isn’t gonna cut it.”
King chuckles. “What a fucking tool.”
“He may be a tool, but the guy has women flocking around him. Perks of being a rookie, I guess.”
King nods to my right, just off the third baseline. “Looks like he ain’t the only one with women flocking.”
Short black hair comes into view, and I audibly groan—not in a good way, either. Fucking Felicia. I hooked up with the woman once last year and now she seems to think the next step is the altar.
Hard pass.
Felicia waves at me before blowing the most dramatic kiss. I wave back because well…I’m a nice guy. I don’t want to be a dick, but she hasn’t seemed to get the message that I’m not interested.
The outfit she has on tonight only confirms it—the tiniest, barely there crop top and “Graves” painted across her chest in neon yellow.
I never should have fucked her.
There are a lot of women I regret sleeping with. But I did, and I know it’s my own fault I have the reputation I do. But not gonna lie, at the time, it helped fill the void.
I’ve felt alone and in another world on myown for a long time now. It’s been better since being on the team, but the situational depression still likes to rear its ugly head.
Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I’ve woken up dreading the day. It’s been a while, and I know Tenley has a lot to do with that.
Ignoring Felicia’s attempt to get my attention, I swing my head around, searching for Tenley and finding her closer than before. Now, she’s standing near the dugout beside me, and my guess is she has been for a while now. The look on her face tells me she witnessed Felicia’s attempt at getting my attention, and now I’m regretting being nice enough to wave.
Her phone lowers, and the softest smile lifts across her beautiful face. But in her eyes, I can see a lingering of something…it’s not quite sadness. Maybe disappointment?
Fuck.
Just when I feel like we’re finally in a decent place, I drop the ball again. Not that I actually did anything, but I don’t want Tenley getting any more suspicious ideas in her head about me.
I’m supposed to be winning her over, not giving her an exit route.
“Play ball,” the umpire shouts, signaling Callaway to make the first pitch. I’m not one to typically regret anything, but something as simple as a wave has me feeling deathly ill with regret.
I have my work cut out for me, that’s for sure.
17
TENLEY
