Page 42 of Strike Zone

With a roll of her eyes, Wren turns her back to me. “They’re just boobs. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen any before.” She looks at me over her shoulder as she adjusts the shirt she’s pulled over her head.

I had no idea Wren was so comfortable in her own skin. I would have pegged her to be more of a prude and reserved when it comes to taking off her clothes in front of other people.

But nope. Here she is half naked in front of me without a care. Why do I find that so attractive?

“I’ve seen plenty of boobs,” I say smugly. None as phenomenal as hers. They’re full and round. Fuck they’re pretty. “I would even consider myself a connoisseur.”

“Damn it, Wyatt.” She yanks her ponytail out of the neck of her shirt. I chuckle at her. “I’m still up by two this week,” she says, turning to face me. My laughter dies on my tongue.

Lord, have mercy. I scrub a hand down my face.

She might as well take the shirt back off the material is so thin. Saran Wrap would offer her more coverage. Her dark nipples mock me. You can go ahead and pencil in jacking off to the memory of her tits to my evening festivities.

I shouldn’t because I’m supposed to be here for Charlie.

But fuck, if she doesn’t get my rooster crowing.

Question is, what am I going to do with this new development?

At the moment, I’m not sure I should or could do anything. She thinks I’m into Charlie. There’s no way she would understand my sudden shift of interest. Is it sudden though? Or has she been slipping slowly under my skin?

If I miscalculate and move too fast, I could ruin our friendship. I can admit that I like having her around. I didn’t think this would ever be the case. She is opposite me in almost every way. Being in her presence steadies me. Knowing she has everything in control makes me feel like I can spin out and she would be there to hold me together.

“Still think you didn’t miss much?” she sasses, before opening the door.

“I think I’m missing out on a lot of things.” My admission has more truth in it than either one of us is willing to dissect.

10

WYATT

“If you keep throwing heaters, I’m going to need a new glove,” Koa says, removing his catching gear. We just retired the side and are waiting for our turn at bat in the dugout.

I’m already dreaming of icing my shoulder when I get home. It’s hurting like a bitch thanks to all the fast balls I’ve been throwing today—they are my go to pitch when I’m irritated.

And boy am I irritated.

Wren and Charlie are at the game today. I royally messed up last week at their place. I let Wren get in my head.

And she’s doing it again today.

Because what is she wearing?

Thomas, our second baseman’s jersey.

Not mine. Her best friend.

Yes, I’m claiming that role. We text, FaceTime, eat lunch, do laundry, and study together. We do everything together. Not everything. Because if we did everything I’d probably be a lot happier at the moment.

Most of her free time is spent at my place organizing something and leaving sticky notes all over the place. And she has the audacity to show up in his fucking jersey?

“Sorry, man. I’ll switch it up next inning,” I lie. I’m too mad to throw anything else.

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re trying to impress Charlie. She’s here because of you, right?” Koa leans forward, attempting to get a glimpse of the girls in the stands. It’s almost impossible to see them from this angle.

I can’t really see them when I’m pitching either, but I can feel them. I can feel her.

“Yup. That’s what I’m doing.” Do I sound convincing? I don’t even believe the bullshit that is coming out of my mouth anymore. I don’t expect my friends to either. They know me better than that.

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