Love's Learning Curve (14 page)

I groan getting into my truck.  I can’t believe I’m feeling anxious about tonight.  I don’t know if the evening I’ve mapped out is a worthwhile date for her.  It’s kinda dumb and childish, now that I really think about it.  She could very well think I’m an idiot.  Hell, I probably am.  I’ve never planned a fucking night out with a chick.  I have no idea what I’m doing, but more importantly, why do I even care?

 My palms sweat as I grip the steering wheel.  This isn’t the damn World Series, so I’m annoyed at my physical response to this whole thing.  Yet, here I am nervous as hell about a date with some chick.  Only, she’s not some chick.  She’s Charlie.  It’s different, but I can’t figure out why.

I have less than four minutes to get my shit together before I’m in front of the sorority house.  I shake my head knowing that if twenty-four hours hasn’t been enough to wrap my head around it all, then surely four minutes will do nothing.

The past day has been a whirlwind of confusion.  I’m not really sure what to think about it all, but I do know that Charlie is the first girl who has sparked my interest on a nonsexual level.  Not that I don’t want to get into her panties.  I have a cock, so the rules still apply there, but shockingly, I want to know more about her than just what her voice sounds like when she screams my name.  Hell, if I'm honest with myself, that part isn’t even at the top of the list of things I want to know about her.

As fucked up as it sounded when I was checking out things to do with her tonight and making plans, I had one goal in mind.  We had to do something that would spark that light in her eye that I saw when she hopped off the bike today.  I need to hear that little giggle when she feels so exhilarated that she doesn’t hold back.  When she jumped into my damn arms today, something happened to me, but I think it happened to her too. 

Charlie is a girl who’s held herself together by strings for a long time, and even though she tries to hide it and stay strong, I can see they’re all breaking.  She lives her life for everyone around her leaving nothing for herself.  That’s what I got out of my time with her this morning.  From what I see, we are polar opposites with not a whole lot in common.  I live my life completely for myself, leaving no room for others, and I’m not sorry for it.  Baseball is my priority.  It’s what keeps me sane.

In some cases, I think Charlie gives all of herself because she enjoys it.  I think that’s the case with the Taylor family.  The nice thing about that is they appreciate her and give back.  Even though it pissed me off for Jamie to make his mark today, it was nice to know they had her back.  That won’t continue, though, if things go anywhere with us.  I won’t constantly be knocked down and put in my place by him.  He’ll have to accept that I have her back too.

When I left her this afternoon, I freaked the hell out all the way to the field.  I couldn’t wait to get to the bullpen.  Every second it took me to walk through those tunnels felt like an eternity, and I couldn’t help hearing the voice of Coach Jacobs from high school floating in my head.  “
Son, don’t shoot yourself in the foot before you ever get the chance to see those dreams become reality.  You’re so close.”

By the time I got down there, I couldn’t wait for a second more before I got that ball in my hand.  I needed to know if the new distractions would cause me to lose focus.  I needed to know how serious of a distraction Charlie had become.  It took me sixty-five throws, with mostly strikes, before I could relax.  I would have pitched sixty-five more just to be sure, but I was at my pitch count for a practice session.  I’m not stupid enough to risk an injury before the season starts just to prove a point to myself.

When I left the bullpen today, I stood on the mound.  I stood there for a while just thinking. I keep to myself for a reason.  All I need in life is to stand on that mound and do my job.  When I looked around me at the field and saw the tightly manicured green grass surrounded by the clay diamond and my temple right in the center, I know it’s my place.  It’s my home.  Baseball is what completes me.  People don’t, but somehow, Charlie’s awoken a need I didn’t know existed.

I know many people, people who would call me a friend.  I’m not exactly sure the feeling is as strong for me, but it’s mutual enough.  I’m careful about how close I allow people to get.  I don’t have time for the demands of maintaining relationships, but I’m not a hermit.  I go out to hang with the guys.  We drink beers, watch sports, go to parties, and prowl for pussy.  I spend time with chicks, but I don’t keep them around longer than necessary.  I’m fucking normal.

Okay … I’m not normal.  But keeping people at arm’s length and not allowing myself to become too attached was a coping mechanism I learned at a very young age.  As soon as I got attached, something would happen, and I’d be moving on to the next place.  I’d be sad and feel empty until I became attached again and the situation repeated.

I pull up outside the sorority house not sure what to do next.  Do I wait here in the truck for her to come out?  I don’t have her number to text her and tell her I’m here, but that’s probably a good thing since I probably would have texted the minute I was walking into the park to tell her to have a nice life.  I know enough about picking up a chick for a date to know I, unfortunately, need to go to the door, but that makes it feel so—official.

Before I can think another second, I’m out of the truck and walking toward the door.  Yep, Charlie is a distraction for me.  I know it, but somehow, I can’t keep my thoughts from straying to her, and more importantly, I can’t help but crave her smile again.  If walking to the door is what it takes, I’ll take one for the team.

I barely have a chance to bring my hand down from the first knock when the door is thrown open by a flock of chicks standing in the doorway looking at me googly-eyed.

“Um … hi.  I’m here for Charlie.”  I’m not even sure who to address.  When no one responds and they all just stand there staring, it gets a bit uncomfortable.  You’d think someone would make a damn move to let Charlie know I’m here.  I can’t handle this. I should have stayed in the truck and waited.

Then I see her walking down the stairs, and I sigh in relief.  Thank Christ!  I can’t take my eyes off her as she walks toward me.  She looks adorable.  Her cheeks are a little pink, but it’s not from overdoing her makeup.

She’s dressed a lot like the night of the party—only this time better.  She’s in flat sandals and slim-fitting jeans that accent those glorious legs.  I make a mental note not to miss the chance to check out her ass when I walk her to my truck.  I know from experience when she was folded in my arms after passing out, that it’s spectacular.  Her top is royal blue and almost the color of her eyes.  I’ve recently, as in just in the past day, decided my new favorite color is blue.  I fucking LOVE blue.  She’s wearing one of those stupid tops that don’t hug her tits the way I wish it would; it’s on the sheer side, but she’s hiding her little assets behind a matching colored tight tank top.  If only she could have left that one piece on the laundry line, it would have been perfect.

She weaves through the gawkers blocking the doorway, and when she finally stops in front of me, her smile widens and the flush on her cheeks deepens. 

“Hi.”  Her quiet voice penetrates the silence around us.  I don’t even notice that Morgan Chambers is right behind her until she turns Charlie around on her heels, successfully breaking our intense eye contact and moment.  I can’t help but growl under my breath at the intrusion.  Her hands are on Charlie’s shoulders, and she’s looking her directly in the eye.  For whatever reason, Charlie listens and doesn’t object even though I wish she would.  I want her eyes back on me.  I can’t hear what Morgan is saying because she is speaking in hushed tones, but I’m sure she’s warning her off an asshole like me.  Even though it wasn’t too long ago that Morgan herself wanted a piece of me.

Morgan is not my type of girl, although up until moments ago, I didn’t have a type.  She is in a class of her own and thinks she’s better than everyone else is.  Morgan attempts to hide the evil that simmers just below the surface, but it’s as plain as day to me.  She’s looking for a status symbol, not a boyfriend, and until she finds her idea of an equal, she practices excelling in the art of sex by bed hopping.

I’ve heard some insane stories about Ms. Chambers, but I keep my distance.  I still don’t understand how she and Charlie’s friendship ever flourished.  They are nothing alike.  But here we are talking of opposites again, and it’s not really like I have room to talk.  Maybe Charlie enjoys the company of selfish assholes like Morgan Chambers and myself?  But the thought annoys me regardless because she deserves better than that.

After Morgan demands far too much time of Charlie’s attention and keeping her away from me, I have to restrain the annoyance in my voice.  “You ready to go, buttercup?”  Her eyes turn to me quickly, and the smile on her face is heart stopping.  The glare over her shoulder from her best friend is unmistakable, though.  Ha … that girl.  There’s the evil.

I reach out my hand waiting for Charlie to take the lifeline I’m throwing her, and just before she reaches out for my hand, she looks at Morgan and kisses her on the cheek before saying good night.  True to the promise to myself, I make sure to appreciate her ass when I open the door and help her carefully hop into my truck.  Damn.

I have no idea where we’re going, and I don’t really know if it’s protocol to ask.  But I find that my curiosity is getting the best of me, and the silence in the truck is making me more nervous than is comfortable.  I fiddle with my fingers as I watch Tyler press the preset buttons on the radio changing the station and turning up the volume—not too high to drown out the ability to have a conversation but just loud enough that we can hear the music.  He flips it over to HitsRadio and looks at me.

“Is this all right?” he asks with a questioning glance, wanting my approval.  He’s so sweet. 

I nod my head before responding.  “I listen to almost anything.  I have an eclectic taste in music.”

He smiles at my statement in agreeance, and I immediately wonder if we have any common favorites.  I tuck that little question into my memory bank of things to discover.