Monday afternoon,I see her on the other side of the union courtyard, sitting at a table in front of the smoothie shop with three people, and one of them happens to be the same guy she left the cookie contest with.
Bailey looks stunning. Her face is soft, like how I remember from nights spent in my bedroom, not twisted up and harsh like I’ve seen it lately. She’s got her hair thrown up in a bun, and the sun is glinting off it in a way that makes her turquoise streaks remind me of the clear waters of the Tenerife Sea. A red flannel falls off one of her shoulders, exposing smooth, tanned skin and a black tank top. She’s thumbing through a textbook with green-painted fingernails while her plump lips are wrapped around the straw of a purple smoothie. Wild Berry Blast with an energy shot, probably.
God, why does she have to be so fucking pretty?
There’s an attractive blonde girl sitting close to a guy with red hair, and from the way they’re acting and touching each other, I’d say they’re a couple. Which brings my attention to the big guy sitting next to Bailey. The same guy who had his arm around her shoulders after the cookie contest. The guy she left with.
Is this a double date?
I’m hit with a wave of jealousy, and as I assess him, I’m caught off guard to find that he’s, uh, knitting.
Pretty sure he’s knitting.
I watch him a moment longer.
Yep. Yep, he’s definitely knitting.
And as much as I want to hate the fucker spending time with Bailey, I can’t help but feel impressed. Maybe even a bit envious. How great would it be to show your true self out in the open and not care about the consequences? Of course, she’d be with someone like that. Someone fearless and honest.
I ignore my anger and force my feet to walk in her direction. I’m going to have to choke down all these feelings and self-pity. I’ve got to get her to agree to this competition, and the only way I can do that is to clear the air.
I step up to the table, give the guy a nod and grit my teeth at his smirk, then turn to Bailey.
“Hey, you got a minute?” I ask her, trying damn hard not to sound as nervous as I feel.
“For you?” She blinks innocently with those breathtaking amber eyes, and I hold my breath. “Hell no.”
The guy sitting with her barks out a taunting laugh and sets whatever it is he’s knitting in his lap. Then he folds his arms across his chest and watches. I flick my eyes to the other two people at the table. The blonde and the redhead are watching me closely. Something about the way the blonde is looking at me tells me I don’t want to piss her off any more than I apparently already have, so I look back at Bailey.
“Bailey, I’d like a chance to explain,” I try again.
“Yeah, no. Not interested, Riggs,” she spits. The way she says my name with so much venom turns my stomach, but I only have myself to blame. She won’t accept an apology or an explanation, not right now, so I try a different approach.
“Look, I have a proposition.” I cringe as soon as the words are out of my mouth, and the dick with the knitting needles snorts. “No, not like that. I have a favor to ask, an idea of sorts to run by you.”
Bailey sets her smoothie down and hits me with a fiery glare. “You’re really gonna come here and ask me for a favor?” Her jaw tenses harshly before she adds, “Thought I was past tense?”
This woman is infuriating, and it doesn’t help that I’m sweating under the attention of four pairs of eyes. I pitch no-hitters in front of stadiums full of people, but this group has my stomach in knots.
“Dylan is an asshole and didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“Yeah, he sounded really uninformed.”
“Sundance—”
“—I don’t care, Riggs. And don’t call me that. Just go.”
I step forward again and open my mouth to demand, but the guy grabs hold of Bailey’s chair and drags it over next to him. The scraping of the iron legs on the pavement has everyone in the courtyard looking at us.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” he says sternly, and I stiffen at the authority in his tone. This dick.
“This is none of your business,” I snarl, but the guy puts his arm around Bailey’s shoulders and tugs her into his side, making me literally bite my tongue.
“Anything involving my girl is my business.”
“Your girl?” I laugh at the thought that this firecracker of a woman could ever be anyone’s anything. She belongs to herself and no one else.
“Yeah, my girl.” He nods toward the blonde. “And that one’s my girl, too.” Then he gestures to the redhead. “And that sexy ginger is my guy.”
The redhead just smirks at me while twirling a strand of the blonde’s hair around his finger.
“My girl has a problem with you, so you and I gotta problem, which means you should leave now before I have to beat your ass.”
“You honestly believe you could?” I scoff. Dude’s tall, but I can easily take him. Coach would kill me if he found out, but it might be worth it to knock that stupid look off this guy’s face.
He shrugs and smirks some more. “I think B believes it. Don’t you, baby.” He tries to nuzzle her hair, but she dodges and stomps on his toe. He doesn’t even flinch, but I don’t miss the muffled laughter that comes from the other couple at the table.
“Yeah, looks like it,” I grind out.
“And you think she’d rather be cuddled up with you?” The guy is taunting me. It’s a trap, I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself from trudging right into it.
“Yeah, fucker, I do.”
The guy laughs again. “Nice try, dick. She’s with me.”
“How about you go back to your scarf, Grandma, and let me talk to Bailey alone.”
“First, these are gonna be slippers, not a scarf, asshat. And second, if B wants to talk to you alone, she can make that decision herself. I’m not stopping her.” He tugs her closer into his side and his smile stretches across his face. My blood is boiling.
“Get your hands off her,” I growl.