Out in the Field (Out in College 4)

Phoenix seemingly agreed. He stepped aside and gestured toward the building behind him.

“I have a jacket in the theater. I should head back anyway,” Phoenix said. “It was nice to see you again, Max.”

We shared an awkward smile. And just as he was about to turn away, I panicked and launched into verbal vomit mode.

“Wait. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I wanted to. I had a boyfriend at the time. We weren’t in a good place. In fact, we broke up pretty soon after that night. I wanted to reach out then, but things got weird when my roommate came out, and I’ve been trying to lay low and—”

“You’re not out?” he asked with a frown.

I bit my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. I felt like a fucking idiot, telling a guy dressed like a fairy that I was so far in the closet I was practically in another zip code. I shook my head and sighed. “No.”

“Oh. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me,” he said gently. He started to turn again, then paused. “Thanks for telling me. I kind of hoped you’d call, but I think we agreed that night that our timing was off. I’m seeing someone now anyway, so…take care of yourself, and good luck with the touchdowns!”

“Home runs,” I corrected with a laugh. “I play baseball.”

“That’s right. I love baseball costumes!”

“You mean uniforms.”

“If you say so,” he said a little too cheerily.

I scratched the back of my neck and gestured toward the parking lot. “Hey, um…do you want to get coffee or something? Just as friends. I mean…you said you’re with someone and that’s cool. But maybe we could just…catch up or whatever. Sometime in the future.”

Wow. Talk about lame.

When Phoenix didn’t reply right away, I figured he thought so too. He stared at me for a long moment before inclining his head. “Sure…a future coffee date sounds good. Do you still have my number?”

“Yeah.”

Phoenix smiled. “Cool See ya, Max.”

I watched him walk toward the theater, noting the sway of his hips and the proud tilt of his chin as he disappeared through the glass door. Coffee? What the fuck was I thinking? I couldn’t have coffee with him. I liked him too much. Scratch that. I was ridiculously physically attracted to him. The zing of awareness was as strong now as it had been three months ago when I couldn’t act on it. I couldn’t sit across a table from him, asking stupid questions about his major, when what I really wanted to know was if he still tasted like strawberries.

Like he said, our timing was off. I had been miserably attached to Sky three months ago, and now Phoenix had a boyfriend. Or a significant other. Geez, just the thought of him “seeing someone” made me sick to my stomach. I felt like going after him and asking him what the hell that meant—like I had the right or something. I didn’t. Phoenix wasn’t mine. And even if he was free, we didn’t stand a chance. He was fabulous and I wasn’t…at all. A couple of stolen hours spent dancing in the dark was one thing, but everything was different in the light of day. Especially here where no one knew the real me. And they most likely never would.

* * *

The drastic change in the weather the following week was very welcome. Mild winter temperatures were one of the major perks of living in Southern California. We’d had our fair share of rain lately, but today it was seventy degrees with blue skies. Not bad for mid-January. I grabbed a handful of french fries and popped a few in my mouth before twisting in my seat to look for Christian among the students hanging around the outdoor food court. I nodded a greeting to a girl from my psych class just as someone squeezed my shoulder from behind.

Christian laughed when I started in surprise. “Hey, there.”

“Geez, quit sneaking up on me,” I griped, sliding a paper bag across the green metal table.

“Sorry. Class ran late. Did you get me a salad?”

“Yes, and fries. I couldn’t let you eat rabbit food without a few carbs. And I’m not sharing mine.”

Christian adjusted his sunglasses, then pulled the container from the bag. He made a production of shaking the dressing before finally pouring it over the Cobb salad and tucking into his lunch.

“Thank you. Fuck, I’m hungry,” he said around a mouthful of lettuce. “I worked out with Rory this morning and didn’t have time for a real breakfast. The granola bar and apple I snuck in statistics didn’t cut it.”

“Mmm. And how’s statistics going?” I asked, waggling my brows lasciviously.

“The class sucks but—”

“But so does your tutor?” I intercepted, holding my hand out for a high five.

“Yeah, but I like the way he sucks,” Christian said with a chuckle, primly ignoring my outstretched hand. His laughter bubbled over when I slapped my own palm and raised my arms triumphantly.