Page 147 of How to Win the Girl

“You don’t have to be good at it. You just have to let yourself have fun—stop thinkin’ about it and have fun. So what if you swing and miss?”

Says the guy who practically plays professional football.

“Are you at least havin’ fun?”

I nod even though I’m not actually.

Correction: I enjoy having his body pressed against my backside and his arms around my waist as he instructs me on how to hold the equipment, his deep voice tingling my eardrums.

That’s what I enjoy.

The way I can feel him through his pants. The way I can feel his breathing in and out. How warm he is. How strong his forearms are. How much taller he is than I am.

I’m enjoying it all.

The baseball part? Not so much.

* * *

Drake

“Doyou want to get ice cream?” We’re in the parking lot after the semi-disastrous afternoon at the batting cages which I can check off my mental list of Things to Do with Daisy on a Rainy Day.

Yeah.

We will not be going back.

She hated it and wasn’t shy about it.

So to spare us both, we will not be going back.

Maybe miniature golf would have been a better choice, eh?

Fuck.

Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? There’s a little mini-putt-putt range next to the batting cage park.

I’m an idiot, that’s why.

“Do I want ice cream?” Daisy mulls it over, wrapping herself in a hug. “It’s a little cold out, so maybe not.”

Damn. She’s right. It did get unseasonably cold.

“Hot chocolate instead?” I offer, not ready to head home yet.

Daisy plucks the batting helmet off her head and immediately begins shaking her hair back into place, the flattened locks still look great, in my opinion.

She fluffs, grumbling. “I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like right now.”

“Same as it did when you got here,” I reassure her. Judging by the look on her face that wasn’t the correct answer.

Yikes.

Daisy goes about smoothing it down, finger-combing it.

“I could do hot chocolate and a cute Danish,” she finally allows after making me sweat.

“What’s a cute Danish?”

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