Page 6 of Strike Zone

If I don’t get this girl out of my system, my game is going to suffer and everything I’ve been working to achieve, to save, will be lost.

That’s the only reason I’m here at the campus bookstore on a Friday night instead of at home in bed or out at The Armory with my boys.

After a couple weeks of surveillance, I’ve learned Wren has habits. Lots of them. She has been much easier to keep tabs on than Charlie. One of her routines is restocking her weekly supply of sticky notes at four thirty every Friday at the campus bookstore. She walks each aisle systematically while checking items off her list.

If I’ve timed her correctly, I should find her picking out a new highlighter right about now.

I nod to a few classmates as I walk by them.

Wren’s head of dark brown hair comes into view. She has it slicked back in a low ponytail. Not a hair out of place with this one. Her shirt is another daring shade of beige. At least it’s buttoned up to her neck and covers her chest.

Don’t need a repeat of what happened at the library. No siree. She got me. I fell for the little devil’s trickery. She set the trap and I got caught looking. I may have been wrong about not missing much. Not that I would ever admit that to her.

Walking by a table display of Newhouse gear, I snag a lanyard and a keychain. I need to make this little run-in with her believable. We’re just two people who happen to be shopping at the same store at the same time.

Should I whistle or would that be overkill? No whistling. Definitely too much.

She has a shopping basket of various supplies, snacks, and are my eyes deceiving me or is that a box of condoms? Well, well isn’t that something? Condoms are the last thing I expected her to be needing a refill of. I can’t picture her as the type of girl to be sleeping with random guys around campus.

Why am I even thinking about her like this? I shiver and shake the thoughts from my head.

Casually I walk closer, pretending to scan the shelves for what I’m looking for as I go.

“I can hear you breathing,” Wren says without taking her eyes off the two packs of markers she’s holding in her hands.

“You can not.”

“I can.” She drops one pack of markers in her basket and puts the other back on the hook. Then picks up a red marker set and begins examining it. “Did you need something?”

Yes, I do. I need you to prove to me you’re not the heartless Tin Man and help me out.

Telling her she doesn’t have a heart is probably not the best way to get her assistance. I’ll need to convince her it’s good for Charlie, that I’ll be good for Charlie. Because I plan on being real good to her.

Some might say better than good actually. Not to toot my own horn, but toot fucking toot.

Or maybe we can come up with an exchange. I’m not discouraged by my last attempt at bartering. There has to be something she needs even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

If all else fails, I’ll annoy her until she has no choice but to do what I ask so I’ll leave her alone. My sister Willow has said it’s one of my most endearing qualities. Or maybe she said enduring?

“Is this one any good?” I ask, grabbing a random highlighter off the wall. It’s neon green. Maybe getting her to talk about one of her favorite things will warm her up a little.

She turns her head slightly in my direction. I’m momentarily stunned by the smell of wildflowers floating in the air. It reminds me of home and playing in the fields of flowers we had growing when I was a kid.

“What are you doing with it?”

“Highlighting stuff?” I answer but it comes across more like a question.

She expels an exasperated breath and grumbles quietly to herself. She better buck up. I’m just getting started with her. I’m about to become the best friend she never asked for.

“If you need to memorize text, use yellow. If you are simply highlighting stuff,” she twists her tone to mock mine, “then green will be sufficient.”

“Golly. Thank ya kindly, ma’am.” I lay the accent on thick to irritate her further.

She rolls her eyes behind her oversized glasses, tosses the red markers in her basket, and moves on to the next aisle.

I’ve deduced that paper products are her second favorite purchase—ranking just behind new pens.

What will it be this week? I wonder as I tail her. New notebook? Printer paper? Large sticky notes? Small ones? Oooh maybe another set with the cute little hedgehogs on them?

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