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Do I tell her I wish she were here? That it’s not the same, and I demand she get here this instant?
If there’s one thing Tenley has made clear, it’s that she and I will never happen romantically. We seem to be getting along really well considering our past encounters, so I’m hopeful for co-parenting together.
She pretends she doesn’t want me. I’m a smart enough man to read between the lines. That’s her way of telling me she wants my dick. I plan to be fluent in Tenley’s secret language by the end of our little arrangement.
I’ll tell myself that until it’s finally true.
Nothing will stop me from wanting her so damn badly. More than just her body and more than just her acknowledgement as the father of her child.
She’s an infection. And I want to be the man who finally locks down Tenley Abrams and lives to tell about it.
Gonna text her again because I can’t stop.
August:If you were here, you’d hate this field. The nachos suck.
Tenley:I bet they left out the jalapenos, huh?
August:God, you’re good.
Tenley:Shoot. I guess I’ll have to order the burger instead
What…what is she talking about?
I spin in circles, my eyes swiveling the field for any sign of her.
It’s not until I spot the brightest blonde locks gathered to the side in a braid, and the body of a goddess repping theshit out of a Striker’s jersey as a dress, that my chest fucking roars.
There’s my woman lookin’ like a pre-game snack.
Daddy like.
Despite knowing I see her, she sends me a message that feels just as potent to my lovestruck brain.
Tenley:Hey, Boston hater.
I look at her and smile, texting her back by muscle memory.
August:Hi, you beautiful round snackie.
Tenley:You're lucky I’m confident, smart ass.
Her tiny bump is showing more now, and knowing that’s my baby inside of her fills me with pride.
Tenley strides toward me, joining me at the stairs leading to our dugout. I’m typically the first one at the field on game days, so it’s just her and me. Even though we live together, it feels different being in public with her like this.
Like we’re the real thing. It may just be in my head, but I’ll sleep better tonight telling myself she’s here for me. That she came despite being sick for me.
“Thought you couldn’t make it?” I ask, taking in her muscular, tan legs. Tenley has a thigh tattoo that wraps around her hip in the sexiest continuous design. I’ve always found tattoos sexy as hell on women. It makes her hips look twice as lean and her legs twice as long. It’s all gray-scaled, with a compass and vines, all stemming from an angel oak tree. Somehow, the artist managed to make everything blend effortlessly.
“Started to feel better, so I called Jack, and heflew me out,” Tenley says like it means nothing at all. It meanseverything. “Besides, your captions need some work. Figured I could help with that.”
“Is that so?” I chuckle. I want to touch her, but we’re not there yet. At this point, Tenley and I are purely physical.
“I’d give it a five out of ten.” Her smile grows as she inches closer.
I shake my head playfully. “Feel free to intervene. Trust me, you won’t hear any objections from me.”
“Not a chance, bat boy.”
