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I need her to give me something. Anything that tells me she’s enjoying our little game as much as I am because all I’m getting right now is avoidance.
With the TV playing tonight’s highlights from around the league, I grab my phone and dial my favorite late-night pizza spot, but when I’m two ringtones in, there’s a knock at my door.
Fucking Cody. Or Travis. Either way, I need new friends.
It takes me a moment to get to the door, thanks to the awkward slide I had today, fucking up my groin. “Cody, I swear to God. I’m not lying about whose apartment this—”
Swinging the door open, I expect to come face to face with one of my teammates, only to find Kennedy standing on my doorstep.
“Hi.” Her voice is small, nervous, but trying to be brave.
And all I do is blink like a fucking idiot because I’m sure this is a mirage. The prettiest auburn-haired mirage to ever exist. When do you start hallucinating due to abstinence? Because I’m currently around the nine-month mark and starting to see things.
I shake myself out of the daze. “Hi.”
“Sorry, were you expecting Cody?”
“No. No, you’re much better than Cody.”
A tense smile lifts on her lips.
This woman is standing at my door, entirely out of her comfort zone, but why? I saw her at the field less than two hours ago.
Kennedy’s hair is tucked under a baseball cap. She’s still wearing her wedding shoes with a pair of leggings and a long tee, covered with that oversized denim jacket I bought her in Vegas.
She looks so fucking cute, and it’s only amplified from those dusted freckles shadowed by the brim of her hat, but best of all, she’s looking like that while standing at my door.
“What are you doing here, Kenny?”
“I... um...” Her voice shakes and she avoids eye contact. “I thought you might be going out tonight.”
“And you’re checking up on me?”
I like the idea of that. That she could be so jealous that I might be out on the town with the boys that she couldn’t help herself from coming over and checking for herself.
“Because I’m not,” I answer for her. “Never planned to.”
“I... uh...” Her small hands fidget and that’s when I see it. My hat. One of my countless team-issued hats in her hand. She holds it up. “You left this in your locker stall, and I thought you might need it... if you were going out tonight.”
I find the top of the doorway, hooking my hands around the frame, my knowing smile impossible to suppress. She didn’t come over here because of my fucking hat that I intentionally left at the stadium. She came over because she wanted to.
I’m equally tempted to give her a hard time as I am tempted to pull her inside and lock the door. Kidnap my wife and never let her leave.
I opt for the former. “You thought I might need my hat at midnight?”
She hesitates, her not-so-smooth cover blown already as her attention roams over my bare chest. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t think you could wait and give it to me on the airplane in the morning?”
“You were um... having a bad hair day. I didn’t think you’d want to go out without it.”
“I’m never having a bad hair day, baby.”
She hands it over, but doesn’t leave, her feet still glued to my entryway mat.
Yes, she’s nervous and a bit uncomfortable. Maybe this is her first time ever putting herself out there for someone, but after three years of chasing the girl, I’m going to revel in the night she finally came to me.
“How’d you get my address, Ken?”
