Page 103 of Strike Zone

She freezes with her arms half raised over her head. She smirks at me over her shoulder. “I can’t believe they were right. You realize this is crazy?”

“Don’t give a fuck. You look so fucking hot right now.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her tight against me. “Come on, I need you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m running out of days where I’ll be able to do this.” I don’t want to think about how true that statement is. Graduation hangs over my head like an anvil waiting to drop.

Is that when we say goodbye? How do I get her to fight for something with me? Because I’m willing to tear apart anyone who tries to steal her away.

27

WYATT

The worst part about a string of road games used to be bad hookups and hangovers. Now, it’s being away from Wren for several days in a row. It’s been sleepless nights because she isn’t in my arms.

I miss her like crazy. Even with text messages and video calls, it isn’t the same as holding her or kissing her goodnight.

I barely made it off the bus before I was texting to let her know I was coming over. She should be home studying if she’s sticking to her usual schedule.

I climb the stairs to her dorm room two at a time. I’m impatient. I’m dying to see her. After a few quick knocks, Charlie opens the door and lets me in.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Wyatt. Congrats on your wins,” she says, locking the door.

“Thanks. Is she in her room?”

“Yeah. She’s had a rough couple of days. She’ll be glad to see you.”

Wren never mentioned anything on any of our calls. She did seem more tired than usual, but I assumed she stayed up too late waiting for me to get back to my hotel or studying.

I open her door slowly. The lock clicks getting her attention. Wren throws the book she’s reading on the bed and catapults herself into my arms.

“Hey, baby.” I bury my face in her neck. It’s like coming home every time. She might as well get a tattoo of my lips in the spot on her collarbone since I kiss her here so often.

“I missed you.” She presses her lips against mine. Her hands rake over my face and into my hair, and her thighs clamp down around my waist. It’s a spiritual experience having her in my arms. She makes a believer out of me.

“I missed you too.” I cup her face with one hand and her ass in the other.

“Only seven more games left in the season.”

It’s a bittersweet reminder of what’s coming. It’s not something I like to think about. I want to play this game with her for keeps and I’m worried she’s still playing pretend.

Having her welcome me like this leads me to believe she sees a future for us in some capacity. I know I need to man the fuck up and ask her about it, but I’m a greedy motherfucker. There's a chance I could bring it up and send her running in the other direction.

I walk us over to the bed and put Wren down. She backs up to lean against the headboard and opens her arms and legs to me. That’s an invitation I can’t refuse.

I kick off my shoes and crawl onto the bed to rest my head on her stomach. She runs her fingers through my hair. She’s going to put me to sleep if she’s not careful.

“How’s your shoulder?” she asks as she moves her hands down my neck and over my back.

“It’s been worse.” It hurts like a bitch. I’m glad I’m not starting the next few games. If we weren’t trying to win another championship, I would ask Coach to bench me.

Wren’s legs jostle underneath me. “Switch places with me and take your shirt off.”

“What are you doing?” I ask when she straddles my legs and sits on my thighs. I wish she was a little higher, but this is a good start. She’s still within reach.

“Give me your hand.” She squirts lotion into her palm.

---