Page 66 of Catching Feels

“Oh my God, you’re taking that as a green flag for this.” She motions between us.

“This”—I motion between us just as she did—“is different. We both have theories to prove. And this”—I motion between us again—“didn’t start with the expectations that comes with a date.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s a major league ball player, asking a girl on a date?” I shake my head. “He has an agenda.” I curl up into a seated position. “You might as well get a collar with an engraved tag that says ‘WAG.’ A guy like that sees how a hot little number like you fits perfectly into his life, Jillian.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m looking for?” she asks in a way I know I’ve pissed her off.

I grab my shirt and bend down to clean my jizz off her tits, and she bats my hand away.

“Is it?”

“There’s no base I could stand on that would be far enough away to mistake you for a convenience, Jillian Hart.” I grab my pants and step into them. “You’re trouble with a capital T.” I snag a candle off the floor and start looking around.

“Where are you going?” she asks, getting up.

“Checking out the place. I haven’t been in here since the fire.”

“Are you serious?” I hear what I think is a foot stomp.

Yep, I’ve pissed her off.

“Be pissed all you want; you know I’m speaking the truth.”

I feel something hit the back of my head. “There’s your jizz shirt.”

I can’t help but smile and stop when I hear her walking away. “Where are you going?”

“To sleep.”

I hurry toward her, and when she turns to no doubt yell at me, I bend down, press a shoulder to her center, and lift her up.

“You asshole, put me down!”

“Not yet,” I say as I jog through the house and up the stairs, straight to my room, where I set her on her feet in front of the back window.

“What is wrong with you?” She shoves my chest with both hands.

I grab them and turn her to face the window, pulling her back hard against me to keep her in place. “I was standing here one day and saw this bombshell brunette climb out of a car and stretch out, telling me she’d driven for a long time. She then grabbed a backpack and slung it over her shoulder. It was so heavy that her shoulder slumped. I could tell it was loaded up with books. In that minute, I knew that girl was a strong, smart, independent woman on her way to make whatever it was she wanted to out of herself. She was not the kind of girl a guy who’s on the road or at the stadium more than half the year could possibly do any justice by consuming her life.”

I let go of her and stand back. “I’m not saying love doesn’t exist—we see it every day. But your theory isn’t wrong. There are people who know that love is the greatest thing in the world, and they want it so badly they press for it, force it. That’s not real, and that doesn’t last. Trust me; I know.”

“You’ve been in love?”

Fuck.

I close my eyes and nod. “Thought so. It ended badly.”

“Because of baseball?” she asks.

“Yeah, because of baseball.”

She shakes her head, telling me she doesn’t understand.

“We dated all through college. My parents and her parents had expectations of what our lives should look like. I chose what I knew mine was supposed to be. Their approval meant more than us to her. Add to that, a minor league player doesn’t make shit, so her lifestyle would change drastically.”

“I’m sorry.”

---