Page 41 of Very Unlikely
Mercifully, Lennox’s mouth is bigger than mine. “Since he walked in on his father boning his high school girlfriend?”
“He told you about that?” I ask, shocked.
Desiree nods before she switches it to a half-hearted shake. “He told Holden, and anything you tell Holden—”
“Is automatically shared with you.” It used to be that way for Lennox and me as well. We never kept secrets from each other, but that’s all we seem to be doing lately. One big fat lie after another. It sucks even more than wondering if Lennox’s record-setting game is because his sleep was as unsettled as mine last night or because Neish is acting like every other bimbo in his life previously.
It may be a bit of both.
“Would it be okay if I step out for a minute?”
Desiree yanks the plastic off a set of uniforms with Lennox’s number on the back before shifting on her feet to face me. “Of course. You’re overdue for a break.”
After tidying up the jerseys she just hung, I run my hand down her arm in thanks before exiting the merchandise store from the front. Even with the game in full swing, the number of people in the stadium’s underbelly is overwhelming. I never understood how Lennox could stand up at the mound and not crap his pants.
To begin with, we thought my stomach’s adversity to mayonnaise was because I was nervous being in public. It was only once it started occurring even while eating in, did I get the tests needed to unearth an allergen to uncooked eggs.
The first person I spot when I break into the seating part of the stadium is Lennox. That isn’t hard considering he’s on the big screen, living his dream.
As I make my way down the stairs, several familiar faces pop into my peripheral vision. Most are customers I served in the hours leading to the game. They wave at me like I’m one of their idols before gesturing to the number on their backs that I encouraged them to get. I’m meant to be impartial, but that’s a little hard to do when even I believe Lennox is the number one player on the field.
I almost lose my footing when my name is shouted from the direction of the field. I’m still mad as hell at Lennox, but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t hoping the call came from him. We barely spoke a word to each other last night, and this morning wasn’t any better.
I don’t like fighting with him. I just hate his double standards. I’ve watched him date woman after woman after woman these past three years, but the instant I have an ounce of attention directed my way, he’s ready to throw down. I could blame that on the fact things changed when we sailed over the line we drew in the sand years ago, but since I’d have to admit I know Lennox lied about having no recollection of the ‘breakfast’ we shared, I refuse to do that.
A smile tugs at my lips when I spot the person calling me. Cody is standing at the bottom of the bleacher, greeting me with a massive lopsided grin. It appears as if he is truly happy to see me. “Hey, I was hoping I’d see you before tonight.”
“Did you make it home okay?” I ask after joining him next to a group of fans gushing over him like his placement at Ravenshoe is as influential as Lennox’s.
It isn’t, but I’m happy for their focus to stay off Lennox. He has plenty of attention, including a group of sorority sisters on my right egging each other on to flash him their tits.
I gain more than a dozen eyes when Cody leans in to greet me with a kiss on the cheek, so I blame their unhidden gawk for the stiffness straightening my spine. I’ve been kissed before, just not in public, and not by anyone not named Lennox.
“I did, and your father called me earlier today. Comet is being transported to him as we speak.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, genuinely happy for both him and my dad. “You won’t recognize her once he’s done with her. He has a way of making things seem new.”
“It’s funny you say that because he said the same thing about you.”
His comment heats my cheeks more than the glare I’m being smacked with over his shoulder. Lennox has spotted our exchange, and just like last night, he wants to get up in our business.
Mercifully, he can’t since he’s halfway through an inning.
My insides clench when Lennox distributes some of the tension pumping through him on his next ball. It whizzes past his opponent so fast, his bat doesn’t get close to connecting with it, and the catcher grunts when it lands in his glove.
I shift my eyes back to Cody when he murmurs, “He’s playing a hell of a game.” When he dips his head in admiration of Lennox’s skills, Lennox’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. “I guess switching from a one-bedroom suite to a two-bedroom apartment was the best decision he made for this leg of the league.”
His reminder that Lennox requested separate sleeping arrangements for us sours my mood, but not enough for me to forget how riled he was last night when I told him I was going to Cody’s party as his plus-one.
“Are we still on for tonight?”
I sound desperate. Rightfully so. He didn’t text me his address as promised. The only time my phone buzzed was when my father sent me my daily ‘goodnight, pumpkin’ text.
“One hundred percent.” The eagerness in Cody’s voice eases my worry. “I didn’t message you my address last night as it isn’t really proper of me to expect you to drive yourself to our first date.”
“Date?” I push out before I can stop myself.
I realize not all ballers are full of themselves when he shuffles nervously side to side. “Yeah. I thought we agreed to that yesterday?”
