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Ignoring how smooth his voice was, I assessed the car parked in the spot my car had been parked in. I was pretty sure this was where I had parked my car. I looked at the beam: B2. This was where I’d parked my car! “If you’re talking about the microcar that was parked here, I got it towed. This is my spot.” He smiled as he opened his door.
Either my hair covered my eyes, or I really was seeing red!
“You got my car towed!” I screamed, in disbelief of what I had just heard.
“Yes.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I did.”
He’s not going to apologize? What the fuck is wrong with this man?
“Why the fuck would you do that?” I whisper-yelled as I raised my arms. “And how the fuck do you look so unaffected!”
“Because I’m not,” he said as he entered his car and revved up his engine, pulling out of the parking spot. Is he just going to leave me here? “Bye.”
Bye? Bye! BYE?
I watched as the car left the parking area. I read the man's license plate, and my mouth hung open as it registered who it was. I scoffed, my shoulder shaking in anger as I read the plate. “He even has stars on it.”
Alexander Seth Harris—the fucking missing pitcher!
Chapter 2
Naomi
“Pudding!” my dad called from across the hall, and I smiled as I turned to face him, only to frown soon after. I had thought he was alone.
“Yes, Mr. Collins?” I asked as I walked toward them, and I swear the pitcher rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. I dared him to say it out loud!
“Oh yes, Miss Collins.” Dad cleared his throat, standing tall. He pulled his belt as he emphasized the serious look on his face. That’s more like it, Daddy! “Since he wasn’t there yesterday, I wanted to introduce you to the missing pitcher.”
“Is this him?” I asked, forcing a smile on my face, and the missing pitcher stared at me incredulously before he scoffed, looking away. I wanted to punch him.
“Yes, this is Alexander, and he is our star pitcher. Retiring soon.” Oh, something positive!
“When?” I asked, and my dad laughed, probably thinking I was making a joke. I laughed along with him, and Alexander raised his eyebrow as he looked down at me. Fucking giant. It was a pity he smelled great; it didn’t gel well with his shitty personality.
“Whew, excuse my daugh—uh, I mean Miss Collins. She can be quite the jokester at times,” my father said as he struggled to catch his breath. All this just from a genuine question? I could only imagine how breathless he would be if I actually did crack a joke.
“It must run in the family.” Alexander looked bored. His face is boring!
I was lying. He was quite handsome, and if he weren’t so horrible, I would have possibly considered him to potentially be my type. Long hair actually suited him. When I had arrived home last night, after much trouble, the first thing I did was search who the hell Alexander Seth Harris was, and what gave him the confidence to be such a shitty person.
After looking at a series of his pictures, from paparazzi to advertisements and even on his social media, I came to find out where he had gotten the confidence. Turned out he had about four Cy Young Awards for being the best pitcher, thousands of strikeouts under his belt, and even a league MVP award!
Even though he had such amazing achievements, I hated him.
“It definitely does!” Daddy chortled as he clasped Alexander’s shoulder. My dad can sometimes be really slow on the uptake, or on the insults. “Anyway, I just wanted to introduce the two of you. Alexander, I trust you’ll continue attending your consultation sessions?” He gave him a hard look, and Alexander looked at my dad, smirking.
“I would be delighted to.” Dad, you better call him out on his sarcastic tone!
“Wonderful!” My father continued chuckling as he clapped his hands. “Get familiar with each other, okay?” No, not okay. I don’t want to get familiar with this guy. Daddy walked away whistling a classy tune; one I had heard a bit too much. The song played in my head even when I wanted to fall asleep.
I looked at Alexander up and down before smacking my lips and turning around to walk away from him, successfully ignoring him. All he had to do was lean in, and he was already all up in my face.
“How’d you get home?” No, he did not. He did not—Lord, he did not!
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but with a cab.” I pushed my hands inside my pockets, eager to get away from him. His presence was annoying.
“And your car?” He pouted, looking concerned. “I didn’t see it parked in my spot today.” So annoying.
