Page 56 of Chasing Headlines
“This just has to be good enough!”
“It’s fine, mom.”
My father glared like I had done something wrong. “We spent hundreds of dollars on that travel ball uniform for you. Can’t afford to buy another one.”
I sighed and ran my fingertips over my forehead as I forced the memory from my mind. I snuck a glance at Milline. Fringes of her dark gold hair formed a line from her temple to curl in front of her ear. She had a small line of freckles on the bridge of her nose. The faint scent of orange blossoms drifted into the space between us. I adjusted my stance and was glad I’d changed out of my practice gear—and cup.
She glanced up at me through dark lashes. I liked the way she bit her lip and stared at me like I was the only guy on the team.
“So, you’re the number one around here.”
Why did those words mean so much to me at the time? Why did they practically feel like a lifeline . . . even though. Even though I shouldn’t like or trust anything about her.
Why did I want to hear her say those words to me again?
“I watched you play, you know.”
I blinked. “When?”
“Every game I could. The last two years.”
I didn’t need or want to know that. I didn’t want to know that. In the state I was in—possibly about to be cut from the last chance I had left—knowing that, would make me want to grab her, hold onto her.
Hold her.
“Didn’t know it was you when you gave me your shirt.” She turned an interesting shade of pink. Reminded me of that day and how flustered she got when I'd protected her from flashing several of my teammates.
“Got my attention.”You’ve still got it.
“Oh, ha ha ha.” She met my gaze with that cute little smirky tilt to her mouth. My heart fell, the way my stomach did the time my high school teammates and I went on some crazy rollercoaster ride. The thing lurched, leapt, only to fall and fall and fall like it might never stop.
I froze. And the world stopped for just a half dozen heartbeats. I counted because that’s how long I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
I just wanted . . .
A loud knock at the window and the office door clicked open. Schorr looked from me to Milline. He crossed his arms. “I don’t have anything for you. Come back tomorrow.”
I blinked. Was he talking to me?
“But Coach, I?—”
He scowled. “What was our agreement?”
“Yes sir,” she said with a sigh. “But how’d he look out there?”
I glanced from one to the other. It was like I wasn’t there and she—thereporter—was on some different level with Coach. What the hell was going on?
“He’s got work to do, whaddya think?”
She nodded and bit at the end of her thumb.
“Nothing happens overnight, Milline. Ask your brother about that, sometime. He’ll tell ya.”
Her eyes flitted up to me and quickly away. “Sure.”
Coach dropped his arms. “Come back tomorrow and catch up on my filing.”
“Yes sir.”