Bat Boy (Easton U Pirates 1)

We’d only texted a couple of times during the season when my dad put me up to informing the team of schedule changes or stuff like that, so this was quite a surprise.

Thanks for letting me crash last night.

No problem. Don’t worry, your snuggle secret is safe with me.

You’re the one who was all weird about it.

You’re the one who fled the room like it was on fire.

Did not. It was morning and we’d already fallen back asleep once.

After we woke up and I realized you were spooning me.

Getting warm. Can’t help if your body generates heat and you smell good.

Goddamn, this man was going to be the death of me. Why was he so darned cute?

Oh yeah? What do I smell like?

IDK, maybe the warm sugar cookies my mom used to make?

OMG, so I smell like a dessert?

LOL! Guess so.

I dare you to tell the guys that I’m a teddy bear and smell like your childhood.

I heard him bark out a laugh and refused to turn around because I’d be sure to give us away. But I heard Hollister say, “What the fuck, Donovan? I’m trying to nap.”

I never had a teddy bear as a kid. And no way I’d tell them. They’d razz me for days.

I wished I could see his eyes. Would I find the truth in them? Again, probably reading too much into this. So he snuggled with me. Big fucking deal. At least he wasn’t avoiding me anymore. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from pushing for a little more.

Is that the only reason?

What other reason would there be?

Nothing, never mind.

And then he went silent. When I craned my neck back as casually as possible, Donovan was staring out the window, lost in thought. Shit, I hoped I didn’t say the wrong thing. What in the hell was I getting at with him anyway?

How often do you cuddle guys?

It was a valid question, but did I really want the answer?

When we finally exited the bus in the parking lot, he was still in a daze, but I’d bet he was just tired. I got busy storing the equipment in the clubhouse, along with the gum and sunflower seeds I’d brought along on the trip, then pulled a load of towels out of the dryer.

I snickered to myself. I definitely had this domestic shit down.

I cut the light, took the garbage to the dumpster, then trudged to my car. I couldn’t help thinking that Donovan was either clueless with the cuddling and flirty texts, or he knew exactly what he was doing and it was all part of his master plan of driving me even more crazy. It was best to leave well enough alone.

When I got home, I plopped down on the couch next to Jasmine, who was in the middle of some reality show. I planned on not moving for a couple of hours.

Jasmine and I tended to hang out on the weekends, at least when there wasn’t an away game or she wasn’t working at the campus bookstore. I usually had Sunday dinner with my family, but Jasmine preferred not to go home on weekends because she had a strained relationship with her mother, who’d raised her alone and had a bit of a drinking problem. She didn’t like talking about it though.

“How was it?” she asked.

“We won two out of three.”

“Awesome.” She sighed. “Was Maclain an asshat again?”

“Not really.” I nudged her. “Why do you ask? You like him?”

“No way. He’s hot, but imagine the pain in the ass he’d be.”

“So? Just hook up and get him out of your system.” I motioned with my hand. “You know you want to. He probably does too.”

Jasmine was bisexual and had dated both men and women over the years but hadn’t gotten serious with anyone in college yet. She and her ex-girlfriend from high school had gone to separate colleges but still stayed in touch.

“Maybe. But then I’d have to see him around campus, and that would be a drag.”

“True.” Which was exactly why I needed to stay far away from Donovan too.

We spent the rest of the day vegging out on the couch, ordering Chinese and watching some ridiculous dating show, and it was exactly what I needed.

I ended up telling her about Brady sleeping in my room and the compromising position we found ourselves in that morning.

She rolled her eyes. “Straight boys.”

“He’s no Bret freaking Stevens,” I pointed out, referring to the straight guy I crushed on in high school. The one who’d shown interest and kissed me under the bleachers one night—plus a little hand action—then blew me off, treating me like shit in front of his friends and breaking my heart. I knew better than to let that one experience sour others, but it still stung.

“No, he’s not.” She sniffed. “But you still need to be careful.”