Page 17 of False Start

I sipped my tea with a snort. “Sure.Ishould givehima chance. Hey, at least I’m glad you have one friend who’s a lot of fun since I’m lame.”

Derek shrugged. “You’ll get better after graduation. Especially once you get some actual sleep.”

Sleep sounded nice. Especially as the clock inched closer to midnight. “Just don’t forget about me and make Trent your best friend in the meantime.”

He grinned, brown eyes soft. “Never.”

A warm spring breeze rushed through the dugout as I shuffled through my cooler, removing the snacks and making sure the orange slices hadn’t spilled in the car.

“Andrea! You have drinks, right?” I called to our opponent’s dugout.

“Juice and soda, a couple of energy drinks too, but those are just for Kick-fil-A players,” she teased.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” I laughed at her exaggerated wink.

“So, is it true?” Andrea crossed the batter’s boxes to our dugout, lowering her voice, her eyes searching the field.

“Is what true?” I asked, separating the granola bars from the crackers.

“You’ve got a Norwalk Breaker on your team?”

The rumor mill had certainly been spinning and despite only being a few games in, most of the teams came primed with their Norwalk Breakers’ gear and markers for autographs.

I nodded. “Trent Vogt, and he could have been on your team. He was a free agent.”

“Damn it,” she swore under her breath. “I saw the list, but didn’t want to add an unknown player. Remember that guy who dressed like a pirate last season? I should have looked at the names.”

“Well, you know Derek.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “He’s got a soft spot for strays.”

She shook her head. “I am so jealous.”

“Don’t be. He’s really not that big of a deal.”

A loud engine drew our attention to the parking lot. A fancy yellow sports car that stood out among the midsize sedans and minivans pulled into the parking lot, straddling two parking spaces. The engine idled and then died before Trent exited the car.

“Is that him?” Andrea gripped my elbow, pulling me close. “What’s he like?”

“Exactly what you’d expect. Cocky, rude, and annoying.”

“And hot. You forgot hot.” Her voice dipped, grip tightening.

I didn’t forget hot. As much as I disliked Trent, looking at him and not immediately admitting that he was fine was next to impossible. But his personality destroyed that hotness.

“He’s an ass.”

“Hey, Kit!” he boomed, waving an arm in my direction.

My cheeks burned at his perfectly timed greeting.

“An ass?” Andrea raised an eyebrow, not bothering hiding her disbelief. “Seems friendly enough.”

“Trent,” I responded with a terse smile.

“Introduce me.” Andrea nudged me toward him as Trent entered the opposite side of the dugout, dropping his duffel bag and rifling through for his gear.

I suppressed a sigh. “Trent, this is Andrea. She’s the captain for Kick-fil-A. Andrea, this is Trent. He’s terrible at kickball.”

“Hey, I eventually kicked the ball at our last practice,” Trent said with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Andrea.”

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