The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game 1)

“You need me to work some of that aggression out of you?” Jack offered with a sexy smile.

My mouth was full, but I didn’t let that stop me. “I’d rather eat dirt. ”

“I almost want to see that. ” Jack chuckled and one dimple appeared on his cheek.

“You would. Go torture someone else,” I begged, nibbling at my sandwich before looking away.

“But I like torturing you. ” He grinned and moved to sit next to me.

“Uh, no!” I shouted before throwing my bag right where he was about to plop his perfect little ass. He stopped short and stood back up.

“Why so angry, Kitten?”

“Why so annoying, jackass?” I mimicked his tone.

I had just taken a bite of my pickle when Jack’s warm breath in my ear stopped my chewing. “You’ll come around. You’ll see. You can’t resist me forever. ”

I suddenly had the urge to spit my half-chewed food all over his arrogant face. The thought of doing it made me laugh, and I accidentally inhaled a little of what I was chewing. As I choked and struggled to swallow, he walked away smiling.

“Sorry about my brother. He isn’t really a jerk. ” Dean smiled as he defended his brother, his head cocked to one side with sincerity.

I coughed to clear my throat and picked up a napkin. “He just plays one on TV?”

“Something like that. Don’t take him too seriously. He’s just having fun with you. ”

I half smiled. “But I’m not having fun. ”

“But you are. And he knows it,” Dean added, his expression a mixture of confidence and knowing.

I didn’t respond to Dean’s accusation, not wanting to prove him right…or wrong. I took a healthy bite of my sandwich when Jack walked back over to our table. Caught with a mouth full of food again, I couldn’t speak, so I simply narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

He shoved a napkin into my hand and walked away without saying a word. I started to unfold it before reading #23 on the field, #1 in your heart, followed by some numbers written in black ink. I quickly crumpled it up and threw it in my bag.

“What was that?” Melissa interrupted the thoughts swirling around in my head.

I swallowed. “His phone number, I think. I didn’t really look at it. ”

“He gave you his number?” Dean’s face appeared puzzled.

“I think. Maybe I’m wrong. I’ll look at it later. ” I was suddenly embarrassed at the assumption that Jack had given me his number, when maybe it wasn’t Jack’s number at all.

Melissa turned toward Dean. “What’s with the face?”

“He doesn’t give out his phone number. There’s no point with him. ” Dean’s gaze darted from my face to Jack’s, turning his head to scrutinize his brother, now sitting several tables away.

“He has a cell phone, right?” Melissa asked, her head bobbing.

“Yeah…?” Dean responded, dragging out the word like a question.

“I’m just saying, caller ID!” She rolled her eyes.

“His number is private. It doesn’t show up. ”

“Really? Who does that?” Melissa’s face crinkled.

“Someone who had to change his phone number fifteen times in high school because it never stopped ringing, or pinging with text messages. ”

“Fifteen times?” I asked, far louder than I intended. I ducked my head as several people sitting nearby stared at me with curiosity.