Page 70
Story: Left on Base
“He wants attention,” I say, scratching under Mookie’s chin. He immediately starts purring, a sound like a tiny motor. “Don't you, sweet boy?”
“Sweet boy, my ass. He knocked my protein shake off the desk before I left for the game. Bitch stared at me while he did it, too.”
I bite my lip to hold back a laugh.
Jaxon picks a zombie movie, but I’m barely paying attention. How can I when he’s this close? When Mookie’s purring is the only sound breaking the tension? When his hand has slipped under the hoodie again, thumb brushing against my bare skin?
“You’re not watching,” he murmurs after a few minutes.
“Neither are you.”
He’s not. He’s been staring at me, at the way his hoodie drowns me, at how Mookie has somehow managed to wrap himself around both our legs like a furry pretzel.
“Can’t help it.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Keep thinking about how good you looked in those seats tonight. Wearing my hoodie.”
My heart stutters. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hand slides higher under the hoodie. “Almost missed a sign from Jameson because I couldn’t stop sneaking looks at you."
Mookie suddenly sits up between us, stretches dramatically, and lets out the loudest meow I’ve ever heard from a cat his size.
“Dude,” Jaxon says to him. “Read the room.”
The cat stares at him, then deliberately lays across his chest, blue eyes fixed on me like, he’s mine now.
I can’t help but laugh. “Looks like you’ve been claimed.”
“Story of my life lately,” Jaxon mutters, and something in his tone makes my stomach flip.
What does that mean? Is he talking about me? About Inez? About this cat who’s clearly appointed himself a Jaxon lover?
But I don’t ask. Because asking means talking, and talking means facing whatever this is between us. And right now, with his hand on my skin and his cat giving me the stink eye and his game ball sitting on his desk like a trophy... I’m not ready for that conversation.
So instead I curl closer, careful not to disturb His Majesty King Mookie, and pretend to watch the movie. Even if all I’m watching is the way Jaxon’s fingers draw baseball diamonds on my skin.
Let’s end the night with a rule: Never tell him you want more.
Even if the cuddles feel real.
CHAPTER 12
BULLPEN
CAMDYN
A designated area for pitchers to warm-up before entering the game.
My first thought when I wake up? Holy shit. I spent the night with him.
My second?
I could get used to this.
I stare at the ceiling, watching shadows dance across the popcorn texture, while my third thought crashes in like an unwanted guest.
The text from Inez last night.
Jaxon’s pressed against the wall, one arm thrown over his head, breathing deep and steady. God, he’s beautiful when he sleeps. The morning light catches his jawline, and I have to physically stop myself from touching it.
“Sweet boy, my ass. He knocked my protein shake off the desk before I left for the game. Bitch stared at me while he did it, too.”
I bite my lip to hold back a laugh.
Jaxon picks a zombie movie, but I’m barely paying attention. How can I when he’s this close? When Mookie’s purring is the only sound breaking the tension? When his hand has slipped under the hoodie again, thumb brushing against my bare skin?
“You’re not watching,” he murmurs after a few minutes.
“Neither are you.”
He’s not. He’s been staring at me, at the way his hoodie drowns me, at how Mookie has somehow managed to wrap himself around both our legs like a furry pretzel.
“Can’t help it.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Keep thinking about how good you looked in those seats tonight. Wearing my hoodie.”
My heart stutters. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hand slides higher under the hoodie. “Almost missed a sign from Jameson because I couldn’t stop sneaking looks at you."
Mookie suddenly sits up between us, stretches dramatically, and lets out the loudest meow I’ve ever heard from a cat his size.
“Dude,” Jaxon says to him. “Read the room.”
The cat stares at him, then deliberately lays across his chest, blue eyes fixed on me like, he’s mine now.
I can’t help but laugh. “Looks like you’ve been claimed.”
“Story of my life lately,” Jaxon mutters, and something in his tone makes my stomach flip.
What does that mean? Is he talking about me? About Inez? About this cat who’s clearly appointed himself a Jaxon lover?
But I don’t ask. Because asking means talking, and talking means facing whatever this is between us. And right now, with his hand on my skin and his cat giving me the stink eye and his game ball sitting on his desk like a trophy... I’m not ready for that conversation.
So instead I curl closer, careful not to disturb His Majesty King Mookie, and pretend to watch the movie. Even if all I’m watching is the way Jaxon’s fingers draw baseball diamonds on my skin.
Let’s end the night with a rule: Never tell him you want more.
Even if the cuddles feel real.
CHAPTER 12
BULLPEN
CAMDYN
A designated area for pitchers to warm-up before entering the game.
My first thought when I wake up? Holy shit. I spent the night with him.
My second?
I could get used to this.
I stare at the ceiling, watching shadows dance across the popcorn texture, while my third thought crashes in like an unwanted guest.
The text from Inez last night.
Jaxon’s pressed against the wall, one arm thrown over his head, breathing deep and steady. God, he’s beautiful when he sleeps. The morning light catches his jawline, and I have to physically stop myself from touching it.
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