Chapter Four

Grace

“He actually said that?” Farrah asked once she dragged the truth out of me later that night.

“What do you think he meant?”

Farrah laughed. “That he wants to fuck you sideways!”

My stomach fluttered. “Why?”

“Why?” Farrah repeated, her tone baffled.

“I just mean…there’s a million other girls. Let’s be honest, Farrah. Justin Calloway could have anyone he wants. So why does he want—or think he wants—me? I’m just—”

Farrah scoffed. “Let me stop you right there, sister. You’re pretty, smart, ambitious, and have that whole hot girl next door vibe going! You’re catnip to a guy like Justin because you’re not like all the other women in his path. You’re not the type to preen and primp and throw yourself at him. Obviously he gets enough of that. So when a woman doesn’t throw themselves his way, he notices.”

I paced into the living room of my apartment, cradling the phone between my head and my shoulder, while I carried my dinner to the coffee table in front of my sectional sofa. I’d spent the first two years of my college life in the dorms and while there had been moments of fun, overall it was exhausting to me. As a natural introvert, it sucked my energy away to constantly have people and noise and chaos swirling around 24/7. So, with my parent’s help, I’d moved into a one-bedroom apartment a few minutes from campus. I took odd jobs and worked in the summer to contribute to the bills, but it was mostly thanks to my dad.

“What are you going to do?” Farrah asked as I got situated on the couch.

I grabbed the phone, switched it to speaker phone, and set it beside my plate. “I don’t want to do anything.”

Farrah groaned. “Come on, Gracie! This is a memory you’ll have for the rest of your life! You’ll be a little old lady in some home somewhere in the Midwest, knitting a sweater, and grinning to yourself about the night you fucked Justin Calloway! I’ll tell you, those memories will keep you hotter than some damn sweater!”

For a moment I was envious of Farrah’s devil-may-care attitude.

I flopped back on the couch, no longer interested in the meal I’d prepared. “That’s not the way it’s supposed to go, Farrah.”

“Girl, please. You could do a lot worse for your first time. Trust me. My first time was in the backseat of a run-down Jetta with my high school boyfriend, Jesse. He had sweaty palms and had no idea what he was doing. I think the whole thing lasted less than five minutes from start to finish.”

I winced. That certainly wasn’t appealing. But there had to be something between sweaty, nervous teenage lovers and hooking up with a random baseball player who wouldn’t remember your name in a week.

“At least you cared about each other. There was something real there. Right?”

Farrah sighed. “I guess. But I’ve had far hotter sex with random club guys.”

I weighed her words. That was really the crux of the whole dilemma. I could go out and hook up with anyone—Justin, some guy from a bar or a coffee shop—or I could wait until I was in a real relationship. Although, that didn’t seem like it was anywhere close to being on the horizon. It didn’t make sense to get invested when I was planning to leave Florida behind as soon as I had my diploma in hand. I’d probably go home to Oklahoma City and spend a few weeks, maybe months, to find a job and then move again. It’d be a year before I was settled and ready to put myself out there. Which, three days ago had been fine with me.

But now—since meeting Justin—I was suddenly antsy.

“I’ll think about it,” I told the phone when I leaned forward and grabbed my fork. “But for now, I’m gonna dig into my dinner, so unless you want to hear me slurpin’ and burpin’, I should probably let you go.”

Farrah laughed. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You better.”

I clicked off of the call and dug into the pile of pasta on my plate. I swirled the fork and let my thoughts twist and tangle together like the noodles. My body was crystal clear in its standing—let myself fall for Justin’s dimpled smile and have a fun night or two of meaningless passion. My mind remained unconvinced. And my heart was screaming to run the other direction. Just as Justin had advised.

So why wasn’t I listening?

***

Things only got more confusing the next day. When I arrived at work and took my place at the stat table, everyone was giving me strange looks. It continued for most of the morning. A strange feeling that I was being watched and that whispers that were just out of reach for me to discern, were somehow about me. Finally, after lunch, I’d had enough and confronted Blake, one of the guys who’d worked the stats booth with me the year before. I cornered him outside the men’s room with my hands planted on my hips. “What the hell is everyone’s problem?”

He reared back. “Geeze, Grace. You scared the shit out of me!”

“Why is everyone looking at me like I sprouted a third eye or something?”

He glanced around and then placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the way of others coming and going to the restrooms. “Chill out,” he chided.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. I had to deal with enough of this crap back in high school. I’m a grown ass woman now and I won’t have people gossiping about me behind my back. What is going on?”

Blake gave a solemn nod and slipped his hands into the pockets of his workout shorts. “Nothing really…”

I narrowed my eyes.

“All right, fine. I guess some people saw you last night after the shift. With Justin Calloway.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great.”

“Listen, I’m sure it’s not true—”

“What? What’s not true?”

Blake looked around, as if waiting for someone to come bail him out of the uncomfortable conversation. When he dragged his eyes back to me, he shrugged. “That you’re not sleeping with Calloway.”

My cheeks warmed and I ducked my chin, letting my hair fall forward before he noticed the furious blushing. “That’s what they think? Because I was sitting at a picnic table with him?”

I glanced up and Blake shrugged. “I guess so.”

“That’s just—just—ridiculous!”

Blake’s face twisted, like he wasn’t sure what to do with me and a flash of heat hit the bottom of my stomach and twisted into a tight ball. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled and then hurried off in the other direction.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why me? I was never the flashy girl who begged for attention. I never wanted the spotlight. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid it. All throughout my school years, I ducked and dodged events that required me to be on stage. I sat in the back row for assemblies and choir concerts. I never entered the science fair or talent show. In junior high, I was selected for an award following a week of community service, and I played sick on the day of the award ceremony so I wouldn’t have to walk across the stage in front of everybody.

I certainly hadn’t asked for Justin’s attention, and I didn’t want to deal with the consequences now that I had it.

Begrudgingly, I went to the table near the playing field and took my place. I pulled my tablet from the messenger bag I carried most everywhere and slipped on my sunglasses. It wasn’t quite bright enough to need them but I wanted to block out the world. Including—no, especially—Justin!

He jogged onto the field and my eyes snapped in his direction. If I was a moth, I’d have been toast a long time ago.

He grinned over at me and my heart flip-flopped in my chest. Good grief.

It didn’t help that my entire job was to, in fact, pay attention to him. Stats for practices were easy. The real fun would start the next day with the first exhibition game. I knew Justin would be playing. But at least the other players had started to arrive and help dilute the pool. As it was, only having a handful of pitchers, made it hard not to pay attention to Justin.

And he ate it up.

Every perfect pitch he threw demanded a look my way. He was making sure my eyes stayed on him and him alone. I swiveled my head in the direction of another player but couldn’t help sliding my eyes back to watch Justin as he wound up for another pitch. His body moved with such fluid grace it was like watching a performance. Then, when the ball launched from his skilled hands, it was sheer power and breathtaking force. I’d seen a lot of pitchers in my lifetime. Justin was one of a kind. A player that would be talked about long after his professional playing days were over. He’d go on to be in the hall of fame, speak all over the country and would no doubt land a cushy coaching or reporting job when his body—likely his shoulder—finally begged for his retirement.

Blake came to the table a few minutes into the session and gave me a strange look. I wanted to snap at him but realized he wasn’t my issue. It wasn’t even really the people gossiping about me. That was only natural, wasn’t it? No, the real problem here was Justin. He needed to just leave me alone. Why wouldn’t he take a hint?

He smiled my way and my stomach fluttered again. Worse than his stubborn streak was the sinking feeling that if he suddenly shifted his attention from me, and found another target, I’d be left devastated.

Ugh.

***

The rest of the day went on without a hitch. When three o’clock hit, I dug some change from my wallet, slipped it into my pocket, and headed out to the vending machines. I glanced around, looking for any sign of Justin. I didn’t want to be caught off guard a third time in the same place. When it was clear he wasn’t going to make an appearance, my heart sank. Which only made me more irritated. With myself. With him. With the whole damn thing.

Back inside, I stopped short, realizing that my abandoned chair was no longer vacant. No…Justin Calloway had plunked himself down and was chatting away with Blake and the rest of the stats team as though they were sitting at a bar, sharing a pitcher of beer. I looked over my shoulder, mentally debating what to do, when Justin turned, a wide grin on his handsome face, and beckoned me forward.

Crap.

All eyes swiveled my way and I stumbled forward. With scurrying steps, I made my way to the table. Justin hopped up as I approached the table and ushered me back into my seat like some kind of English gentleman. Seriously. He was just missing the top hat and coat tails.

I frowned at his gallant gesture and slid into my seat, immediately scooping up my pen. I shoved my sunglasses back on my face and tried to ignore the large man lingering beside me.

“How am I looking?” Justin asked me, a hint of humor in his voice.

I sputtered. “Uhm, you look fine.”

“I think he meant his numbers…” Blake pointed out with a pained cringe. The other two at the table hid their giggles.

My cheeks warmed and Justin chuckled softly. “Shit,” I said under my breath, not daring to lift my gaze upward.

The other players on the field were wandering off, back to the locker room. I frowned. “Are we ending early today?”

“Yeah. We decided to form a little mutiny so we could get an afternoon off and go to the beach,” Justin answered. “You guys are off the hook.”

“Oh.”

Beside me, the other three got up, taking their laptops and tablets with them. “See you tomorrow, Justin,” one of them called as they all wandered off.

I watched them go, but remained paralyzed in my seat. Justin rounded the table and took Blake’s empty seat beside me. “They all think we’re together, you know,” I told him once he had leaned back in the plastic chair.

He kicked his feet up on the table. “So?”

I snapped around to face him. “What do you mean so? That doesn’t bother you?”

Justin shrugged. “I’ve dealt with rumors my entire career. It’s nothing new. Besides, who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“I do,” I replied softly.

“Why?” he asked, his tone genuine.

I fumbled “I—well—I just do…”

Justin lowered his feet to the ground and then leaned over. Gently, he removed the sunglasses from my face. I looked down at my hands, twisting together in my lap. He tipped my chin up with two fingers and held my stare. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or what they say. About you, me, us.”

Us? The single, tiny word took on a pulse of its own as it dangled between our lips. He moved in closer. My eyes, suddenly heavy, started to slide closed.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand.

My eyes flew to his, my mouth ready to object.

He grinned down at me as he rose from the bench, tugging me up with him. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

“Justin, I—”

He leaned in, stealing away my protest. “Let yourself go, Gracie. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Was he for real? I could list a dozen terrible things that could happen. The loose and free lifestyle might work for some people. I just wasn’t one of them. Life was a carefully calculated assessment of risks, benefits, odds of success and failure. In order to know whether or not going with Justin was a good idea, I needed more information.

What can I say? Data is kinda my life.

Justin’s eyes darkened. “Just trust me.”

And just like Dorothy, thrown into a new reality, courtesy of a tornado, so was I on the way to something new and foreign…and dangerous.