Page 2 of Be My Reason

“Call me Lyn.” I try to gather my composure like I didn’t literally just fall at his feet.

“But Brooklyn is such a cool name. It’s so original. There are tons of Lyn’s but I’ve never known a Brooklyn before.” And right then, I love my given name that has always sounded nothing but pretentious to me and that only gets used by my mother.

“So,Brooklyn,” he says, “can I get you a drink and maybe we could hang out and talk?” He raises his eyebrows awaiting my answer.

“Uh, I guess I’ll have a beer.” I eye his red cup half-filled with his own. “Let me tell my friend Emma where I will be.” Looking around the room I catch her watching my every move, and she mouths, “I’ll be right over here if you need me,” pointing over to where the rest of the baseball team has congregated. How can she do that, just walk up and become part of a conversation without even trying? I nod my head at her and look back at Nate.

“I’ll be right back.” He winks,actually winks.I think I just melted a little. “You can make yourself comfortable on the couch if you want to.” He walks the short distance over to the keg.

I watch a couple of girls come up to him while he is getting my beer.They try to engage him in conversation but he looks back at me, smiles sweetly and gives me a slight raise of the chin.Damn it, he caught me looking.Again. I can’t help myself.

I look around to see who is at the party. I’m not surprised to find that, although there are familiar faces everywhere, Emma is my one-and-only actual friend here.I’ve always been what most people call a band geek. I play the flute, which is not easy to do with braces by the way. I love to bake, which is about as un-sexy as it gets, and I run alone almost every day. I run to work off all those calories I eat when I bake and also, it clears my head. Nate and I don’t exactly hang around in the same circle of friends which is why I’m probably so nervous being here. I am totally out of my element.

“Here you go.” He pulls me back from my thoughts. “Don’t drink it too fast. And don’t take a drink from anyone but me or your friend, Emma, okay?” Oh, he’s trying to protect me, that’s nice. But what ifheput something in my drink? Not that he would have to go to such extremes to be with me. I’m his for the taking.

Uh. . . where did that come from?Would I really be with him, I mean, do it, like, for real? I think if he calls me Brooklyn with that sexy voice of his one more time, I would do just about anything with him.

Over the next hour or so, he tells me about baseball and his dream to play in themajor leagues. He tells me a little about his dad who is an architect and his mom who owns a small boutique and spa on the other side of Savannah. But mostly, he asks about me and what I like to do and where I see myself going in life. I don’t know if it is the alcohol or the fact that we seem to really be hitting it off but I feel compelled to tell him about my dream.

“I know it’s silly, but one day I see myself opening a small bakery right here in Savannah.” I look over at him with trepidation and see that he not only doesn’t laugh at me but his mouth is hanging open slightly as he contemplates something.

“You are kidding, right?” hequestions. “Or are you just messing with me?”

Huh?Now he’s lost me. “Messing with you how?”

He studies my face.“You really don’t know that before every home game I have to stop by that bakery on Fifth Street to get a red velvet cupcake?” He scrunches his nose just a bit which is freaking adorable, then bites his lower lip while awaiting my response.

“Umm. . . no. How would I possibly know that?” I ask.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t,” he acquiesces, then goes on to explain how lots of baseball players are superstitious and that two years ago he pitched a no-hitter after eating one of those red velvet cupcakes. So now, he has to do it every time. Every. Single. Time. Or he will lose his edge. “Now who’s the silly one?” He sighs.

He’s waiting for me to laugh.Or say something. “No, it’s not silly. I do the same thing when I have a solo.” I shake my head. “Well, not eat a cupcake, but I have this thing I do. It’s stupid I know, but I twist my hair like this.” I show him how I get a thick chunk of hair by my right ear and twist it until it looks like a wrung towel. Then I add, “I have to do it five times. I think it’s the counting and doing something with my fingers that relieves the tension or some psycho-babble like that.”

“Wow! We’re two of a kind then.” He smiles a gorgeous smile that is all teeth as he reaches out to touch my arm gently and I could swear sparks ignite on my skin at the very place that he is touching me. “And I’ve heard you play a few times when the team walked by the auditorium. You are really good. Great, in fact,” he says with . . . pride?

He’s heard me play?

Somehow we have managed toinch a little closer to each other over the course of our conversation and now his thigh is touching mine. I can feel the heat from his skin right through our clothes, and it is making me feel even more tingly than the stuff Emma made me drink earlier.

Since I don’t pull away, he leans into me a little more and places his hand on my leg, a little above my knee, over my skirt, but not too far up on my thigh. I can’t pull my eyes away from his hand on my leg. Nate Riley has his hand on my leg. Nate, hot-and-sexy-senior-baseball-hero, is rubbing little circles on my leg with his thumb sending twinges of electricity right to my core. “Is this okay?” he questions when he finds me so obviously staring at that large, calloused, tan hand of his.

Is this okay?Don’t move that hand. Ever!

“Okay, but when I kiss you later, I might have to move itaround to your back or something.” He smirks.

Holy crap, did I say that out loud?I could die from embarrassment.

Uh, hello?Did he just say he is going to kiss me later?

“Brooklyn. . . ,” he whispers, all hot and breathy into my ear, and that’s it, I’m dead. I’ll do anything for this boy. I hold my breath and wait to see what he says next.

“Lyn!” I practically jump off the couch when I hear Emma call my name right behind me. Wait, what was he going to whisper in my ear?Damn, Emma!If she would have waited two seconds . . .

“Huh?” I look up at her with my what-the-hell-could-possibly-be-so-important-that-you-interrupted-me-while-Nate-was-whispering-in-my-ear look.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you but I have to go pick up my mom.Her car broke down and she can’t reach my dad on his cell. I would bring you but with my two-seater it would be really cramped and kind of illegal.” She looks at Nate but continues talking to me. “I guess I could come back by and pick you up after I go get her and take her home. But I would hate for you to miss curfew because of me.”

“Um. . . ,” Nate interjects, “why don’t I just drive you home later, Brooklyn? I’ve only had one beer all night and it would be kind of a waste of gas for Emma to drive all over town and then come back and get you.”

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