Page 65 of The Sweet Spot

“I haven't.” He shakes his head. “Your first amateur win has inspired me. So after all of this, one of my teammates would toss me a golf club and a ball. I'd make a show of catching it and then I'd place said ball on the plate. Then I'd point dramatically at you in the stands and yell, 'Fore-get everyone else, Whitney Marlow. Let's take a swing at prom together.'“

I groan.

He grins, committed.

“And then I'd try to hit the golf ball.”

“Try?”

“Well, I hadn't worked on my finger placement or tight hips at eighteen, so I'm pretty sure I'd miss. Probably multiple times, but hopefully that would make me endearing.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Tell me you didn't love it?”

I shake my head at the absurdity.

“Did someone ask you out better than that?” His eyes are wide. “Go on, tell me the truth. I'll try to pretend I'm not offended.”

“I didn't get asked. I didn't even go to prom.”

“What?”

“I was homeschooled for the last couple of years of high school, since I was on the tour.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn't bad. All the teenagers on the tour would do “classes” together. It's how Jess and I became friends.”

“That's good. Jess is good people, even if she would've told you to steer clear of me in high school.”

“Why would she have done that?”

“I played a lot of ball. I didn't have nearly as much control over my intrusive thoughts. I was a little on the husky side, had acne, and didn't have my growth spurt until I was twenty.”

“I think you're too hard on yourself, JB.”

He snorts. “Maybe. But trust me, seventeen-year-old me wasn't exactly drowning in female attention. I was awkward.”

“You're still awkward. It's part of your charm.”

“Fine. Maybe I've improved a little.” He settles deeper into his hotel bed. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You were homeschooled, traveling the country, winning tournaments.” He points at the screen. “And apparently looking ridiculously cute in that picture.”

I smile faintly as I turn the camera back to me and walk over to my own bed.

“Come on,” he says. “You're telling me nobody had a crush on you?”

I hesitate.

“Did you have a boyfriend?”

A small laugh escapes my lips as I get comfortable on my bed. “I dated a little, but it was nothing memorable.”

JB tilts his head. “Nothing as memorable as a baseball promposal. Good to know.”