Beyond the Bases

“Fine.” I nod, trying to scoot away from him. Unfortunately, the booth does not allow me further escape. Where his body is aligned with mine, it feels as though my skin is on fire.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asks.

I clear my throat. I can do this. I can be friendly, have lunch, and then be on my way. “I have to study, then be at work by four.”

“Accounting, right?” he asks.

I’m surprised he remembers anything we talked about that night. “Yeah, I have two more semesters and then I’m done. I plan to sit for the CPA exam.”

“You like numbers, huh?”

I shrug. “I’m good at it, math, algebra, all of it comes pretty easily to me.”

“Do you love it? You should be doing something you love.”

“It’s a good field, with lots of job opportunities and security. I need that more.” I look down at my hands that are clasped on the table. My life seems boring compared to his. I’m not embarrassed of who I am, but surely he realizes he’s way out of my league after this conversation.

“So you said,” he says, referring to the conversation he walked in on. He opens his mouth to say more, but the waiter, Shorty, who I know is the owner, brings the guys two glasses of water each and asks if they want their usual. I take advantage of Shorty holding Easton’s attention, and take him in. He’s wearing a backwards baseball hat, his dark hair slightly curling just above his ears. His dark eyes are expressive and kind. He’s wearing a black form-fitting Tennessee Blaze T-shirt that looks as though it was tailor made to fit him. I can only imagine the amount of time and effort it’s taken him to get his body to look like a Greek god’s. Then again, he is a professional athlete. When he’s here like this, it’s hard to remember that. He’s just Easton.

Shorty leaves, and Easton turns back to face me and catches me staring. “You come here a lot?” I ask, trying to avoid the fact that I’m busted. It’s an obvious answer, but it pulls the conversation away from me.

“We do. Shorty takes care of us. Keeps the fans at bay. The regulars just let us be us. It’s a nice change of pace.”

I nod like I understand, but truly I have no idea. I can imagine that always being in the spotlight would get old, fast. Just another reason turning him down is a good idea. The remainder of lunch flies by. Chloe keeps the conversation flowing about our classes and work. We see a lot of crazy things working at a fancy restaurant. The audacity of what some people expect blows my mind.

“So if not accounting, then what?” he asks.

“When I was younger, I would have said a photographer. I got a camera for Christmas one year and I took pictures of everything, of nothing,” I admit with a laugh.

“And now?” he prompts.

I take a minute to think about my life. I’m twenty-two years old carrying what often feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders. “A mom,” I answer him honestly. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I guess it’s a good thing really. What young, hot-as-hell professional athlete wants to get involved with a woman who says if she had her choice she would be a stay-at-home mom?

“You like kids, huh?”

“I do. I was an only child growing up. My mom stayed home and was always there. Dad too. He worked long hours, but there was never a major moment in my life that the two of them weren’t there.” That was the life I envisioned for myself. I wanted what they had, but life always ends up throwing you a curve ball when you least expect it. We lost Dad and our world shattered. To me that was the turning point, and the moment I realized that nothing is guaranteed in life.

He nods like he gets it. “Family is important.”

Not long after, Shorty stops to ask if we need anything else, which prompts Drew and Easton to hand over their credit cards, covering our bills.

“So, can I call you?” Easton asks once Shorty walks away, cards in hand.

“Let me give you some money,” I reach for my bag, but he places his hand over mine, stopping me.

“Please don’t,” he says softly. “Let me do this for you.”

I nod. “Thank you for lunch.”

The corner of his lips tilts up in a smile. “You can thank me by giving me your number,” he suggests. I reach for my purse and pull out some cash and hold it out to him. “Okay, I get it. Put your money away. You keep me on my toes, Larissa.”

“So it’s the challenge, is it? The chase?” I don’t know why I asked that. I know the answer. I’m sure women fall at his feet, and his advances are more than welcomed. Maybe if I were in a different place in my life, they would for me too.