“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?” I ask as he inches closer. I close my eyes and that picture from the other night flashes behind my eyes and before I think better of it, I say, “I saw the picture of you and Angela from the basketball game.”
He physically recoils and I can tell from the panic in his eyes, he knows exactly what picture I’m talking about.
“Shit.”
My shoulders fall, every horrible scenario playing out right in front of me.
“She ambushed me at the game. She knew there were cameras there and sat beside me especially to get noticed. I swear nothing happened. I promise.”
He steps close as I step back, needing space because the closer he gets the cloudier my head becomes. But he keeps coming toward me until I hit the wall. His face is inches from mine and my breath catches at just how much my body reacts to him when he’s this close. I shut my eyes, telling myself repeatedly over and over again that he’s a baseball player.
You do not date baseball players.
Yet my body is currently saying something completely different.
His hand reaches up and as I open my eyes, he places a stray hair behind my ear, brushing the side of my face with the tips of his fingers. I can only imagine what those fingers would feel like on other parts of my body. The image of his hands on me sends a moan ripping from my throat, and I notice Josh tense in front of me.
“You seriously have no idea what you do to me,” he growls, his eyes never leaving mine. “I know you feel this, Harper, I know you want me just as much as I want you. I felt it that night at the bar and after I heard that sexy moan come out of your mouth? Now I know I won’t be able to stay away.” His breath on my skin has my head tilting back against the wall for the second time.
“I don’t date athletes,” I repeat, not knowing if I’m saying it for him or for myself.
He presses himself closer, the growing arousal against my stomach sends my mind somewhere else completely.
“I will change your mind,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my temple and releasing me.
I peer up at him, expecting to see that same desire that’s coursing through me, but what I see is that desire plus pure determination.
It’s at that moment my phone chimes and as I take it out of my pocket, feeling Josh’s eyes on me the entire time, I open the text from Mel.
Mel: Your boy has quite the stalker
The second I see the picture attached, my body goes cold and my eyes narrow. As I peer up at Josh, anger coursing through my body the longer I stare at him, I wonder what about me screams “easy mark,” to men like him. Seeing him in a coffee shop with Angela hanging off him is enough to make me run for the hills.
“You want to know the real reason I don’t date athletes?” I ask, Josh slowly nodding as I hold up my phone so he can see the picture. “Because they’re always fucking liars. That’s why.” “Harper that’s not what you think, I promise.” I shake my head, not wanting to hear it.
“Josh, I don’t really care. Right now I’ve seen two different sets of pictures with the same girl, and that girl happens to be the bane of my existence, so if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get back to work.” And with that I walk back down the hall and into my office where I shut my office door until I know he’s gone.
I know telling him to get lost is a good thing. I don’t need to worry about who he’s with when I'm not around, but why does it feel like I just ripped out my heart and dragged it through the mud?
11
Josh
Today has been a fucking joke. I haven’t had a game like I had today in a long fucking time, and I am livid. The minute the game started I knew my game was off. My footing felt forced, my defense was almost nonexistent and honestly, my batting average took a deep dive into hell from the embarrassing at-bats I had today.
I’m the first one in the locker room, still clutching the only ball I caught to end the game in my hand, and I whip it across the room, hitting the back wall. I almost expect it to stick in the drywall, creating a crater but what it does is bounce back, rolling across the room, mocking me.
“Chill out, man,” Will says with a hand on my shoulder.
I shrug the gesture away as I head to my locker, not paying attention to the fact that everyone around me is dead silent. I place my hands on the edge of my locker and take a deep breath. What the fuck was wrong with me tonight? I couldn’t hit a ball to save my life, let alone catch one. My hand goes to my right shoulder, absently rubbing away the pain that’s surfacing.
“It would be nice if we had some defense tonight…” T.J. mutters from across the room.
“You got something to say, Mitchell, say it to my fucking face!” I grunt, making my way toward him. Will’s behind me, holding me back as I struggle to get out of his grip. Mitchell just shakes his head and goes back to changing out of his uniform. I look around the room and everyone’s eyes are on me. The judgment from every single angle is palpable and
