Page 17

SEVENTEEN

PARKER

Parker: Texas coffee sucks

Scout: I’m from Texas

Parker: That explains it then

Scout: Have you ever been to White Plains?

Parker: For the Jungle Kings?

Scout: Yeah, what’s it like?

Parker: They’re a lot of fun. Tanner played there before he moved up to the big leagues. Why?

Scout: Working on my presentation, just trying to come up with some ideas

Parker: My brain is for hire if you want to borrow it

Scout: Thanks

Parker: And any other part of my body you might need too

Scout: *eye roll emoji*

Parker: How’s New York? Miss me yet?

Scout: Quiet. And no.

Parker: Never counted you as a big fat liar, Davison

Scout: Awesome home run

Parker: Just giving you the content everyone wants. My lack of presence on TikTok recently has been noticed

Scout: Oh really?

Parker: Yup

Scout: How about I set up something real special, just for you

Parker: I’m listening

Scout: *eye roll emoji*

Scout: I’m sorry about tonight, there’s no way that ball was caught before you reached base

Parker: Yeah, Coach complained but it won’t be overturned. Only positive is we’re heading home. Are you ready for our big reunion?

Scout: Our what?

Parker: Our reunion. Tomorrow. Our spot, same time as usual

Scout: I’ll be there

Parker: Can’t wait

Scout: Me too

“ W here are you?”

“Waiting for you,” I replied, scanning through the dozens of people wandering along the boardwalk running around Lions Stadium.

I just couldn’t see the one person I wanted to.

“At the coffee shop?” Scout asked.

I knew she was close because I could hear the music playing inside the shop, both through the phone and because I was standing outside.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t see you.”

I spun around, searching again until I finally spotted her walking next to a behemoth of a man wearing a Velasquez jersey.

Her eyes darted left and right, with two identical creases forming between her brows while she tried to find me. Before I could stop it, my face split with the biggest grin as my chest thudded erratically, as though it had been months and not the six days that had passed since I’d left her standing in the loading bay.

But the difference between this away series and every other one where she’d been left behind was that I returned home to New York knowing—okay, 95 percent certain, because she never actually admitted it—that Scout had missed me. And it was all down to Jupiter Reeves.

I’d never been much of a texter, definitely never spent hours sending messages back and forth until my thumbs got sore, but in the last week nearly every spare minute I had was spent messaging Scout.

Countless times over the last week I’d taken back every bad word I’d ever said about Jupiter, and I did it again.

I’m sure I’d pay for it at some point, and when that time came, I’d happily hand over my Amex.

I’d never thought of my cell phone being a beautiful thing before, and yet it had become my most prized possession. Since last Tuesday I’d flown across two time zones, a dozen states and played six games while learning as much as I could about this girl currently searching the early game day crowds for me. Me.

This girl I’d crushed on for nearly a year was here meeting me.

This girl whose favorite color was green. This girl whose roommate traveled so much Scout almost qualified for living alone.

The one who used the same dryer sheets her mom did because they reminded her of home, and I held back from telling her that the fresh, cottony scent permeating the air whenever she was within a couple of feet would always and forever make me think of her.

Scout’s favorite holiday was July 4, her birthday was in October, and the last vacation she took had been to Mexico with Alice, her friend at work—the girl I’d met the day Rangers Douche turned up.

I’d learned her dad was pretty high up in the Army, and while her family home was now in Virginia, she’d grown up in Germany where her brother was still out there serving in the Air Force. But her heart belonged to Texas, because that’s where both her parents were from. Even though the coffee sucked.

My cheeks were beginning to ache from how much I was enjoying watching her try to find me. I’d stay here all day, but the pull of being face to face was too strong.

I stepped forward a little. “I’m behind the middle pillar down the side.”

“What are you doing standing there?” she asked, her eyes scouring the space until they locked on mine.

“Because I didn’t want anyone else to spot me after I ordered your revolting coffee, it’s too embarrassing.”

Her perfectly arched brows shot up. “I thought you said Lions pride themselves on being embarrassed.”

“We have to draw a line someplace, this is my line.” I grinned as she stopped in front of me, arms crossed over her chest.

My grin widened as her foot tapped a little annoyed beat. Man, this girl. If my hands weren’t full, I’d wrap my arms around her, pick her up, and swing her around. Instead, I stood there, taking a second to soak her in while her brows knitted even further, her lips pursed a little tighter.

I’d never been so desperate to kiss someone in my entire life.

I’d even settle for brushing against one of her perfectly rounded cheeks. But while I was certain she’d missed me, I was also certain we weren’t at the greetings-kiss stage, and I knew without doubt that the first time I kissed her wasn’t going to be surrounded by a bunch of Lions fans, plus all the people who’d escaped their offices for a morning coffee.

But she sure was cute when she was annoyed. If possible, it made her eyes seem even bluer, matching the color of this morning’s cloudless sky.

“Hi.”

I clicked my headphones off, ending our call. “Hey there.”

Her gaze flicked to my hands, and back, frown still very much present. “What’s that?”

I held one of the coffees out to her. “Your coffee.”

“What’s it in?”

I glanced down at the cup, mashing my lips together as hard as possible to stop the grin becoming crazed.

“A travel cup I thought you might like. A gift.” I pushed it out to her again. “And I put your coffee in it.”

She peered around my hands at the reusable coffee cup I’d picked up on the way here.

If I hadn’t gotten it for free, it would have been the best fifteen dollars I’d ever spent. In my rush to see Scout, I’d arrived early, happened to spot the Lions store staff prepping for the day’s opening, and my eyes landed on this beauty in the window.

I hadn’t even known they’d existed. But now I did, I’d be buying them as gifts for all my coffee-loving friends.

“It’s your jersey…”

“Yes.” I grinned, turning the cup around. “And my number. We can work up to the stage where you’re wearing my actual jersey to games, but this is good enough for now.”

She took it from me, our fingertips brushing enough that we both felt the shock between us. Not shock. Spark.

Yeah, we had a fucking spark all right.

“You know,” she started, before clearing her throat, “some would interpret this as saying you think my coffee is so good it deserves its own special cup.”

“Uh-uh. Nope.” I shook my head. “That’s not what this was. I told you, this is purely about you forming a relationship with my shirt. It’s a gateway to wearing it.”

“Hmm.” Her shoulders lifted in some kind of half-assed shrug. “Well, I see it differently. I think you love my delicious coffee.” She giggled through a sip. “Mmm, delicious.”

“I don’t. This”—I tapped on the cup—“is a favor. I’m raising your cool points because it tells everyone you’re clearly a Parker King fan, while also making drinking the coffee less embarrassing for you.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

I leaned in closer. “You should be.”

Her eyes never left mine as she took a long, slow sip.

I was almost disappointed that a tiny foam mustache wasn’t left behind on her top lip, because it meant I couldn’t wipe it off. But I’d settle for the coffee-drinking standoff we were having, waiting to see who’d crack first, though I knew it wouldn’t be me.

I’d stay here all day if it meant I got to stare at her; count the smattering of tiny freckles across her forehead, which had developed in the week I’d been gone, or study the way the blue of her iris darkened the closer it got to the edge.

I’d stare at her all day and never get bored.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. Our end was brought on by someone shoving a phone in my face.

“Excuse me, are you Parker King? Can I get a photo?”

I turned to my left, to find a shortish girl wearing a pair of cutoffs, and a shirt with my name on it. Exactly like the cup.

Glancing over to Scout, I couldn’t tell if she’d noticed the number, but the two frown lines had made a reappearance, and for some reason, seeing them again almost made me as happy as I’d felt when I’d spotted her walking over to me.

“I like your shirt.” I grinned to the girl, wider when it was clear Scout was doing her very best to look unbothered by our interruption, but I’d spent enough time with her to know when she was annoyed.

The tiny vein in her temple protruded that little bit further and her lips rolled in on themselves right before she sucked in her cheek.

Oh man, was she annoyed.

Any second and she’d start studying her fingernails.

“Thanks,” the girl replied, peering up at me through thick, clumpy black lashes, “you’re my favorite. All our favorites.” She pointed over to a group of girls standing by the hoardings. “But I got to come and ask for a photo. And maybe a signature.” The eyelashes batted hard as the girl pulled a Sharpie from her pocket.

“Of course. Hey, Davison, you see this shirt, with my number. Cool, huh. Matches your cup.”

“I see it.”

The curtness of her reply only had my grin widening while I scrawled my name across this girl’s back.

“You wanna get in this picture with that matching cup of yours?”

Scout shook her head. “No, I think you can handle this on your own.”

“Okay.” I shrugged, taking the girl’s phone, ready to snap some selfies.

Given how disinterested Scout seemed to be, it was unsurprising this girl had incorrectly figured there was nothing going on between us, and wrapped her arms around my waist.

It didn’t occur to her that Scout would care she was pawing her boyfriend. Or that I was her boyfriend.

An exasperated huff had my eyes flicking back to Scout, and the vein was now really popping. I could be mistaken, but I know I wasn’t.

Scout Davison was jealous.

My heart made a little happy skip.

Halle-fuckin-lujah.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I announced after ten seconds of this girl’s fingers digging into my side.

“Good luck tonight,” she replied, staring up at me.

“Thank you. Hope you’re coming with that shirt on.”

“Yeah, of course.” Her teeth sunk into her lip as she answered. “Actually, there’s a bunch of us going to Rocket Bar after the game if you want to come and join us.”

“Thanks for the invite, but I don’t party during the season.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we won’t tell anyone.” She winked with a giggle, taking a step backward, followed by another. She held on as long as possible before turning around and heading back to her friends.

Scout was finishing off her coffee as my attention focused once more on her, not that it ever really left. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, who am I to stop the fans of Parker King when he’s out and about in public drinking his morning coffee.” She smiled, and 90 percent of her annoyance vanished. “He’s a fan favorite.”

Dipping my shoulder, I nudged it gently into hers. “As long as I’m your favorite, I don’t care.”

She peered up at me, teeth caught in her bottom lip, like she was on the verge of saying something. I waited for it to come, but after a second, she turned away. “I need to get back. Are you coming?”

“Sure thing, Davison. Lead the way,” I replied, falling into step next to her. It could be wishful thinking, but it sure felt like there’d been a shift between us. I’d put it down to our constant texting, which meant we weren’t starting from scratch again, like every other time I’d returned. But right now, I wanted to ask what she was thinking about silently walking at my side, but I went with the answer I wanted more urgently. “So, did you miss me?”

She shrugged, bringing the cup to her lips again, even though it was empty. “Maybe.”

“Then maybe come with us next trip.”

“ Maybe I will.”

“Great, I’ll make sure I have a shirt with my name on it delivered to your desk.”

The eye roll she gave me warmed my heart for the rest of the day, and I almost credited it for the two home runs I hit in the postgame press conference later that evening.