Page 48 of Pitcher Perfect
“Yeah, wow. I’m not sure if I had a forgotten experience when I was little or I was just born with the phobia, but it’s real and it’s severe.” Did he realize he’d pulled her closer? His words were stirring the flyaways at her temples. “My grandfather passed away shortly after that. The kite is still in that goddamn tree, if you can believe it. I check every time I go home for a visit. And I have this...”
When he didn’t continue, she nudged his leg with her own. “What?”
“It’s ridiculous, but as long as his kite is stuck in that tree, I’ll have this weird sense of things being unfinished. Or unresolved. Like he’s out there somewhere missing that damn kite.”
Skylar didn’t think it was ridiculous at all. Not even close. In fact, she’d resigned herself to having that very same feeling ever since getting her rejection letter from Brown and not fulfilling the expectations of her parents. She’d never bring their lives full circle. Nothing would ever make sense. “Do you think your grandfather would want you to feel that way?”
“I don’t know. I’ve wondered about that. He was the type to push me to be better, so at the very least, he’d probably give me shit for making him wait.”
The fact that she’d disliked Robbie on sight and now... related to him so thoroughly was a kick in the ass. A reminder not to judge people too quickly in the future, especially this guy. “Sounds like he’d fit right in with my family.”
“You might be right.”
They studied each other for several beats, only breaking the mutual stare when the waiter arrived to take their order. Chicken parmesan with spaghetti, empanadas, and carrot cake for Robbie. A club sandwich and fries for Skylar.
“What did you mean your grandfather pushed you to be better?” she asked, once the waiter had departed. “Was he a hockey player?”
“No one in my family plays hockey but me. They excel at talking shit in the stands, though, and that skill should never be underestimated in my sport.” A rueful smile played on Robbie’s lips, as if reminiscing. Yeah, Skylar found herself looking at his mouth way longer than was appropriate. His jawline and throat, too. All the food chewing was paying off in a big way. “So, when I was in elementary school, I got bullied. A lot.”
Shock snapped her to attention. “You?”
“You’re seriously surprised? You’ve noticed the color of my hair, right? At that age, anything different about you makes you a target—especiallyon Long Island.” He ran five fingers through the hair in question, leaving it in tangled disarray. “I used to take it to heart, come home crying. But my grandfather taught me to laugh off the pain. Let the insults and name-calling roll off my back.” He huffed a laugh. “That strategy has definitely served me well lately. Being a rookie and all.”
“Starting at the bottom again,” she murmured.
“Yeah. The vets make sure you know that’s where you are—the bottom.” His thick shoulder jerked. “It’s a rite of passage, I guess.”
Forcing a newbie to earn their stripes via unfair treatment or harsher judgment was an unfortunate reality in the sports world, though Skylar suspected it was more intense in men’s hockey than softball. BU’s softball program was a fostering environment. Team bonding was not only encouraged, but facilitated by thecoaching staff. Based on the way Robbie shifted his position, as if uncomfortable where the conversation was leading, she got the feeling the Bearcats didn’t have those same systems as firmly in place.
“But that treatment from the vets really bothers you.”
He opened his mouth, closing it before he could say anything. “Nah, it’s fine.” He chuckled finally, amusement lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. “It’s all in good fun—and it’s starting to get better, little by little. I just need to put in a few years of work and they’ll start taking me seriously. As a person and as a player.” He waved his free hand. “I’m no different than anyone else who came before me, right?”
No.Notright. He’d struck a chord. “Everyoneis different. Our experiences make us that way.” Skylar hesitated, surprised to find herself wanting to share something with Robbie that she hadn’t shared with anyone, except for Dina. Aspirations for her future career behind the scenes. “Part of the reason I want to go into coaching someday is that no two players are the same, and I don’t always see that taken into consideration. Yell the same directive at three players and get three different results. One of them will shut down, one will die trying to follow instructions, the third one will raise hell, yell back. That’s why the best coaches—and teammates, for that matter—recognize strengths and weaknesses in a person and coach to those qualities.”
Did his eyes seem a little glazed, or...? “God, you’re so fucking smart.”
The unexpected compliment caused pressure to gather in her chest. “I... thanks.”
“You’re going to be a badass coach. Makes me want to grow a ponytail and try out for your squad.”
She rolled her eyes to hide a smile. “You wouldn’t make itten minutes without trying to pick up every girl on the field, Redbeard.”
“The hell I wouldn’t,” he said, affronted. “Look at me. I’ve learned the error of my ways.” Slowly, he reached over, settled a hand on her knee and squeezed, causing a very distressing tingle at the juncture of her thighs, an acceleration of her pulse. Oh my. Oh no, what wasthatreaction about? “And anyway, I’ve only got a thing for pitchers, don’t I?”
Skylar put her most concerted effort into not looking down at the trapezius muscles peeking out of the collar of Robbie’s T-shirt. And not thinking about the casual power of his outstretched thighs beneath the table. How all of him seemed to be poised. Waiting. “Is this another round of flirting practice?” she asked, so quietly her voice was almost swallowed by the din of the restaurant.
“Flirting practice.” His expression didn’t budge. “Sure, that’s what we’ll call it.”
Stop. Stop looking at his mouth.“I don’t think I’m cut out for small talk.”
“Says who?” He leaned in while wetting that mouth she was not supposed to be staring at like it was her club sandwich arriving early but... wow, he had the sexiest lips. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the texture and give and temperature of them had been plaguing her brain since they’d kissed this morning. Obviously, she hadn’t kissed anyone for so long, she’d entered a state of shock.
Right.
“I think you’re cut out for a lot of things, Skylar.”
“I’m afraid to ask what you mean.”
