Chapter Eight

I’m hard at work on yet another broken phone screen the next afternoon—I swear, you’d think some people had never heard of cases and screen protectors—when my own phone vibrates with an incoming call. I glance over and a little thrill runs through me when I see Eve’s name on the screen.

The broken phone can wait. I grab mine and swipe to answer.

“Hey,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as breathy and excited as I feel.

“Hey,” Eve replies, sounding out of breath herself. “I went back over to the locker room after class. And guess what I found?”

“Your card key?” I guess. “That’s great! Glad it wasn’t lost permanently.”

“Yeah.” She drags the word out. “Found it sitting on the floor right in front of my locker. Would’ve been hard to miss. If it was actually there the other night.”

I frown at her sarcastic tone. “If?”

“I can’t imagine that I wouldn’t have seen it and picked it up,” she says. “Now I wonder if someone swiped it so I’d miss curfew.”

“What?” Now I’m confused. “Why would anyone do that?”

“I have no idea,” she replies. “But it didn’t work, so.” She blows out a breath. “Enough about that. We’re home again on Wednesday if you want to come to the game then.”

I don’t know that going to her games counts as dates, considering she’s down on the field and not with me. But the invitation still makes me smile. “Sure. Don’t worry about a ticket, though. I have a bunch of credits left on my student ID.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you after?”

Now that part sounds like a date. “I’ll be there.” I think ahead, trying to remember the softball schedule I recently printed and hung above my desk—games Thursday and Saturday, but not on Friday, I think.

Before I can get cold feet, I put myself out there. “You’re free this coming Friday night?”

There’s not a second of hesitation in her answer.

“Should be,” Eve replies. “Are you asking me out?”

My cheeks burn but I swallow back my nerves. “I am. Maybe we can try again for a movie? Or whatever you’d like to do.”

Eve laughs, low and husky. “Oh, I have some ideas. But you said you don’t know much about softball. You’ve never played?”

“No,” I confirm. “No organized sports, really, unless a couple of touch football games at a family reunion count.”

“Then how about a private lesson?” She makes it sound like she has something far different from softball planned, and the idea makes me shiver. “I have keys to the field. We can meet there first. Get dinner after, maybe.”

I swallow again. “Sure,” I manage. “Sounds like fun.”

“Excellent.” I can hear the smile in Eve’s voice. “Wear something comfortable. Definitely sneakers. Not a night for the stilettos.”

I bark out a laugh at that. “As if I own stilettos.”

Eve makes a considering noise. “I might,” she says, drawing out the words. “But those can wait for another night.”

I hadn’t thought I’d be into something like that, but an image of Eve in a skintight dress and a pair of fuck-me pumps pops into my head, and well. I guess I’m into it after all.

Maybe I’m just into her.

“So I’ll see you Wednesday?”

I pull myself out of my head and nod, despite knowing she can’t see me. “I’ll be there,” I promise.

“Great.” Eve’s voice lowers. “I can’t wait to see you.”

My stomach tightens and my skin tingles. “Me too.”

Eve laughs, a throaty sound that just reels me in further. “Bye, Annie.”

“Bye.” It’s all I have the strength left to say.

The line goes dead, and I’m left staring at the HULK SMASH image on my lock screen. It makes me giggle, which breaks through the tension remaining from the call. My skin tingles as my heart races, riding the excitement that I don’t just have another date with Eve. I have two dates.

Okay. So I’ll go to the game on Wednesday, and then on a date on Friday, and then we’ll see what happens.

I’ll probably start panicking about the enormity of this in about ten more minutes, but at least I know I can count on Grant to check my outfits and on Mo to give me solid advice. For now, I have work to do, so I set my phone aside and turn back to the job in front of me.

…

I manage to stay focused the next few days, despite Eve and our upcoming dates never leaving my thoughts for long. I finish the phone repair and three other small jobs, get caught up on homework, and pay attention through all of my classes. I run into Grant and Darryn in the cafeteria Monday night, and somehow I make it through dinner without them interrogating me on the status of my relationship-or-whatever-it-is with Eve.

I’m back in my room after dinner, studying for a not-so-secret quiz in biology the next day, when my phone chimes with two text notifications. I check to find they’re from Mo.

Hey, so, I’ve got some preliminary stuff done for this marketing project. Can I send you a couple of links?

And can we meet up later this week to look at them together? I’m done early on Wednesday.

Crap. And here’s the problem with having a social life: conflicting schedules.

I think it over for a minute. I could go to the game, then meet up with Mo after, but I’d probably have to miss having dinner with Eve. But then I do have a date with Eve on Friday to make up for it. And she did say maybe we could have lunch one day.

Ugh. It all just makes me want to cancel everything and stay in my room with computers that work on my schedule.

I blow out a breath. Yeah, I can probably do Wednesday. I’m going to the softball game that afternoon, but later?

Ooooo. Going to another game? Must be serious. ;)

Hey now. I went to games before I even met Eve.

To ogle, yeah, I know. How is it having your own personal ogle-ee?

You’re ridiculous. I’ll text you after the game. Okay?

Okay. Have fun…but not too much fun. ;)

I swear, I’m going to figure out how to delete the wink emoji from her phone.

…

“And now, your University of Atlanta Tornadoes!”

It’s late Wednesday afternoon, and I’m in my favorite section this time, way off at the end of the bleachers, well separated from the other fans. My last class ran later than usual—we had a guest speaker who was pretty good but didn’t know when to stop—so I got here just as they were announcing the visiting team from somewhere in Tennessee.

I might have hung the team schedule up where I could check it easily, but I hadn’t paid much attention to who they were playing.

I’m not paying much attention to the game now, either. Eve is pitching, so I watch her for half an inning at a time, then listen out for her name when she comes up to bat.

The rest of the time, I’m reading my way through a chapter of my computer programming textbook. The class is fine, if a little below my level—it’s a required course for the major—but a terrible book is perfect for a situation like this, with plenty of interruptions to keep me from dozing off or throwing the thing in pure aggravation.

The whole game goes like that, and by the time the Tornadoes win, I’ve already packed away my book and sent Mo a text that I’ll be over soon.

I walk over toward the gym as the fans stream out of the stands, and I’ve only been waiting a couple of minutes by the door when Eve arrives from the field. She’s still in uniform, a wide streak of red clay along the side of her leg where she’d slid into second base during the game. She pulls off her cap and runs her hand through her hair, and then she catches sight of me and grins like it’s Christmas morning and I’m her present. “Hey!”

“Hey,” I send back, returning her smile, my heart beating a little faster. “Great game.”

She makes a face. “Too many balls, not enough strikes.” She shrugs. “I’ll work on it.” She focuses back on me. “You sure you can’t hang out tonight?”

I’d texted her the change of plans earlier, but it’s sweet she’s asking again. I shake my head. “Sorry. But Friday night I’m all yours.”

This time, her smile is a little bit wicked. “All mine, huh? I’m looking forward to it,” she says before leaning in closer. “I’ve been having fun with the lesson planning.”

She sure does have a knack for finding ways to make me blush. “I-I need to go,” I tell her, my voice rough around the edges.

“I guess you do,” she replies before pressing her lips to my cheek. “See you Friday.”

“Friday,” I echo, summoning all my willpower to turn and walk away.

Ten minutes later, Mo opens her door to my knock, and the first thing she does is laugh. “Oh my God, what did she do to you?”

I glare at her, my cheeks heating up even more as I step inside. “What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, your red face and blown-out pupils, for starters. If I didn’t know better, I would suspect you came here from her dorm room, not from the field.”

I drop into the chair next to Mo’s desk and cover my face with one hand. “God. She is good,” I admit. “She’ll say something completely innocuous, but to me it sounds like the dirtiest thing ever.”

Mo laughs again and sits next to me. “Guess you’ve skipped the kiddy pool and jumped right into the deep end with that one.”

“No kidding.” I shake my head to shake it off. “Okay. So. Down to business. What have you got for me?”

A lot, as it turns out.

Over the next twenty minutes, Mo takes me through the pages of the website she designed, complete with price lists for various services, a contact form to fill out for a quote, and even fake testimonials praising my service—signed with names like Bill G. Ates, Steve Robs, and Jefferson B. Ezos, which makes me laugh.

“Jefferson? Does the B stand for Beauregard?”

“Probably.” Mo laughs too. “Anyway, that’s what I’ve got so far. I still have to fix up the links and all that. But you’re the computer expert.” She waves at the image of the home page on her screen. “Would any of that get you to hire you?”

“I’m not an expert on marketing,” I warn. “But yeah, it looks good to me. It’s professional, easy to navigate, and nothing makes me wonder if the person behind it knows what they’re doing.” It’s actually pretty great, and I’m giddy to try it out and see how much work it can bring in this way. I grin. “I don’t know what your professor is looking for, but if it were me, I’d give this an A-plus.”

Mo gives a small fist pump. “Yes! Considering the most important part of all this is pleasing the client—or it should be, at least—that ought to go a long way.” She smiles winningly. “I might be looking for a real testimonial from you before this is all done.”

I laugh and shake my head. “If you need it, sure.” I nod toward the screen. “Other than the links, what else do you have to do?”

“A paper explaining the process and an in-class presentation,” she replies as she closes the website files one by one. “Basically, I have to present it the same way I would to a client. And the class can ask questions.” She turns my way and rolls her eyes. “Gotta show ’em I can walk the walk and not just talk the talk.”

I shudder, suddenly grateful for a class schedule that doesn’t lend itself to solo presentations. Talking the talk is not my forte in any setting.

“Okay, so, business done.” Mo grins. “Tell me all about how things are going with Eve.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You’ve heard every detail there is. I saw her for about a minute after the game tonight. We’re going out Friday. End of story.”

She waves a hand. “Nope. What did she say tonight? Did you kiss yet? What are you doing on Friday?”

I stop myself before I snap at her for all the questions.

I get what she’s trying to do—normalize all of this. Friends chattering about dating is about as mainstream as it gets. But it’s too new, and too fragile, for me to want to dissect every movement like I’m critiquing a film of my life instead of living it.

“I don’t…” I stop and shake my head. “I know you’re interested and trying to be a good friend and I appreciate that, I really do. I just… I’m not comfortable going into a lot of detail about things. Not yet, anyway.”

Mo studies my face, serious now, and then nods. “Yeah. I get that. I just got excited for you and let that run away with me. But!” She points a finger at me. “Whenever you do want to talk, about anything, you know I’ll be ready to listen, right?”

I can’t help smiling at that. “I know. The second I’m ready to talk, I know where to find you.”

Before Mo can respond, her stomach growls, making us both laugh. “You want to split a pizza? I’m not feeling the dining hall tonight.”

Pizza sounds good, but…

“I should get back to my room,” I tell her, with regret. “I still have to finish a reading assignment, and I’m pretty sure we’re getting quizzed on it tomorrow. And it’s the most boring textbook I’ve read in my life.”

“Ugh.” Mo pushes to her feet, and I follow her lead. “Maybe I’ll just eat cereal tonight.” She waves a hand to the corner, where a small refrigerator sits with two bright yellow boxes on top. “Lillie and I make sure to keep stocked on Cheerios and milk, at least.”

“I keep stuff for PB&Js,” I tell her. “And root beer, of course.”

She laughs and moves toward the door. “Always with the root beer. I don’t get it, but to each her own.”

She opens the door as I sling my backpack over my shoulder. “More for me,” I say, throwing her one last smile as I head for the lobby.

Mo’s a junior, so she’s got a better room assignment than I do—on the main floor, no climbing stairs. I’m on the third floor of my dorm, surrounded mostly by freshmen, but that was the only way I could get a private room, even paying extra. There is an elevator, but it’s at the far end of the building, where there are several accessible rooms on each floor, so unless I’m carrying something heavier than my backpack, I take the stairs.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I slip into my room. I set down my backpack and reach for it.

Hey, cutie. Is six o’clock on Friday okay? Don’t want to wait too late or it’ll be dark, and the security lights don’t help much out there.

Sure, sounds good, I send back. I’ll see you then.

Eve replies with xoxo, which makes me smile for a second before I remember my assignment. I sigh and pull out my textbook to finish my reading. The people responsible for this book should be sentenced to a slow death by a million paper cuts.