Page 17 of Most Valuable Players
I look over the other guys and give them a brief nod. They’re staring at me intently, and it’s way too much attention for my poor underappreciated lady parts.
Mario and Vanessa are gone from their cozy spot in the living room, so I slip out the front door. The baseball house is sandwiched between two other houses, presumably for other sports teams. All the jocks live nearby, giving them close access to the training facilities across the street.
I follow the wrap-around porch to the side, hugging myself and enjoying the cool air whipping through my hair. September days in Arizona are still disgustingly hot, but the nights are the best. The sky is clear, and there is just a touch of heat in the air.
I inadvertently stumble upon a couple making out on the back side of the house, catching dark figures embraced so closely makes it hard to make out two distinct forms, but I see enough to know I should turn around and walk away. Reminders are everywhere I look that happy coupledom can exist in college. Or maybe it’s just happy one-night stands. Honestly, I’m almost desperate enough to consider either as a step up from my current situation.
I quietly return to the front of the house, giving myself a silent pep talk to go in and have fun. Enjoy my carefree college years and ignore the stack of homework I need to finish. If only for one night.
“No way.You’reat a dumb jock party?” Wes somehow manages to skip up the steps onto the porch.
Placing my hands on my hips, I give him a playful smile filled with attitude. “I never said all jocks were dumb.”
“Just me.”
Mario and Vanessa emerge from the shadows, looking rumpled and surprised to see people outside. That shock is quickly wiped away when Vanessa realizes it’s just me and Mario calls out, “Wes, man, you made it.”
They meet in the middle, slapping hands and doing that one-arm hug thing guys are so fond of.
“You two know each other?” Vanessa asks, stealing my thoughts.
The guys exchange a look that clearly says they think we are the idiots for not knowing they are friends.
“Wes is the only guy at Valley who spends more time at the fieldhouse than I do.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna beat your deadlift weight just as soon as I get this thing off my foot,” Wes says, nodding his head down to his booted leg.
“In the meantime, what do you say we get you a drink?”
The four of us make our way through the living room. Slowly. I hadn’t thought of Wes as a big man on campus, but clearly, I missed the memo. Wes Reynolds – big damn deal.
As if my humiliation hadn’t been bad enough before.
Guys yell out to him, slap his back, or ask about the foot. And the girls? If desperation has a smell, I am inhaling it now, and it reeks of flavored vodka and self-tanner. Hanging back, I glance around the room, paying particular attention to the way girls move so they’ll be in his line of vision. Even the ones who aren’t brave enough to come forward seem to be biding their time until he looks their way.
I grab Vanessa and pull her into the kitchen.
She careens her neck backward as if she can’t bear to look away. “Did he get better looking since I dropped statistics, or have I been with one man for too long?”
I roll my eyes. “He puts me on edge. He has this arrogant charm that makes me want to kiss him and punch him at the same time. And I really need him to pass statistics, so I cannot make an ass of myself . . . again.”
“Isn’t it great? All that muscle and confidence and who would have guessed—brains!” Vanessa fills two cups with vodka and a splash of Sprite Zero and hands me one. “God bless smart jocks.”
I play hide and seek with Wes for the rest of the night. To be fair, he has no idea we are playing any such game, but every time he comes into view, I duck out of the room. My theory is that if I don’t talk to him, then I can’t put my foot into my mouth. I still haven’t figured out how I am going to convince him to tutor me, but I have a hunch that getting drunk and begging isn’t the way.
Well after two in the morning, I drag myself outside and call the sober driver to take me home.
“You know, it seems you were practically invisible tonight.” His voice sends goose bumps racing over my skin.
“Yeah, weird, I didn’t see you either. Guess we just kept missing each other.”
“You waiting for a ride?” He places both hands into his pockets, which forces me to really look at him. Dark jeans, a gray T-shirt that fits tight across his chest and arms, and tennis shoes...well, one tennis shoe.
The look suits him. I can’t picture him in a dress shirt or loafers, my usual preference, but he works this look.
“Yeah, one of the girls should be here in a few minutes.”
“One of the girls? Roommates?”
