Page 19 of The Shake Off

“Couldn’t sleep,” I shrugged. “Gonna get a workout in before the team meeting.”

“Great!” His stool screeched along the floor as he pushed out of it with far too much enthusiasm for my liking. “I’ll come too.”

My eyes narrowed, because out of the four of us who lived in the apartment, Parker was the one least likely to get up early for a workout. Even him being in the kitchen first was enough to raise suspicion, but whatever. If anyone had to be in the kitchen this morning, I’d go with Parker every single time.

Like most of the players when Penn Shepherd had rebuilt The Lions, we hadn’t known each other well before we were all thrown together as a team, but Parker and I had immediately formed a bond it took some guys years to find. He’d already been playing for The Lions, and had finished his first season as catcher, having moved up from the minors the year before. As luck would have it, The Lions’ previous starting pitcher was an asshole, and got traded out to make room for yours truly – and so was born one of the best pitcher/catcher relationships currently in the MLB, according to several sports journalists who said we were our way to rival Lefty Grove and Mickey Cochrane.

Even though we’d only played together for one season, it was like we’d been playing together forever. Our game was instinctive. Parker and I knew each other; we understood each other, and we trusted each other.

What’s more, after The Lions’ marketing juggernaut had us appearing on every talk show and magazine spread, New York loved us.

Likereallyloved us. Heart eyes and everything.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He snatched up his car keys from the old baseball glove we kept them in. “I’ll drive.”

We rode the elevator down to the parking garage in silence, neither of us looking at each other. At least I didn’t think he was looking at me, but I was looking at the floor so I couldn’t quite tell. The only thing I knew for certain was that Parker was biding his time, and as soon as we got in the car, he’d start talking.

A hundred bucks said it was about my behavior yesterday, which meant I had approximately ninety seconds to figure out how to answer.

The elevator dinged as we reached the lower ground floor. Parker’s black Escalade was parked next to my G-Wagon, which I was very tempted to jump into, but I stepped up into his passenger seat instead and prepared myself for the inquisition.

We made it out of the building and through the first set of lights before he turned to me.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened between you and that chick yesterday?”

Yep. Hundred bucks to me.

Unfortunately, it still hadn’t been long enough for me to figure out how to explain the entire humiliating situation without further humiliation. I was only thankful Tanner wasn’t here too.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Then explain why you’ve been in a mood since she disappeared into the bathroom yesterday afternoon, and why the second we got released from the gala you took off for home, and this is the first time I’ve seen you since?”

“I was tired.”

“Bullshit. What did she say to you?”

I pulled at the wrapper around my Gatorade bottle and began shredding it, anything to buy me some time instead of admitting the truth. The truth that I’d rushed home as soon as I could, flopped on my bed like a sulky teenager, and proceeded to wrack my brains for every girl I’d ever met, while Payton’s words flashed in my head like one of those giant neon highway signs telling you to watch your speed.

The problem was, I couldn’t remember every girl.

The ones I could remember seemed to have a good time, but I thought Payton had too. So now I didn’t know what to think. If I’d kept the number of every girl I’d slept with, I would have spent the night calling them… but I never kept their numbers, so I couldn’t.

“She didn’t say anything. Why do you care?”

He turned left before we hit Lincoln Square, heading toward Riverside Drive, but we found ourselves in another block of traffic. So much for getting up early, or in my case, tossing and turning all night until I gave up trying to sleep.

“Because you’re acting weird. Plus…” Parker shot me a side eye, “you’re my best friend. So until you tell me, I’m gonna keep driving.”

Of the two of us, I was the talker while Parker was the one who sat back and observed, just like he was doing now, except we were clearly in some kind of Freaky Friday situation this morning because he wouldn’t shut up. I groaned, tugging down my ballcap so I could hide my face as much as possible; this would be easier if he couldn’t see me.

“Park, do you think you can tell if a girl is faking it during sex?”

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