Page 25 of The Future Play

“Of course. I’m going to be mooching off you for free baseball tickets. I’ll crash on your couch and go to your games. Be your hype man.”

I snort at that. “Yeah, right. I’d bet anything you and Rae will be married and popping out babies before I’m fully settled in the league.”

His eyes meet mine.

“Yeah, I know you said it’s a work in progress between you two, but the keyword there isprogress. We all know you’ll end up together.”

“What about you and Amanda?” he asks.

“Not you too. My parents—and Penny—already bugged me about this earlier.”

Again, I get that shit-eating grin.

“You know what I’ve learned over the years? If everyone else around you sees something, there might just be something there.” Then he stands up and stretches, yawning for effect. “I’m gonna head up to bed. You coming?”

I stand too. “Nah. I’m going to grab something else to eat first. I’m starving. I’ll be up after that.”

“Sounds good.”

He claps me on the shoulder and heads up the stairs as I go to the kitchen to find food.

And not think about Amanda. Not think about our playful flirtation or the way she always calls me baseball boy. Nope. I need to get Amanda out of my head.

“Oh, hi.”

I spin around, the light from the refrigerator illuminating the kitchen.

That’s a lot easier to do when she’s not standing in front of me looking mesmerizing.

Amanda

I couldn’t sleep.Not that it’s a big surprise. My brain never stops. I’m always thinking of something I have to do. Something I can work on. An idea that will never turn into something. It’s the curse of being a type A creative.

It takes melatonin, a sleep mask, noise canceling earbuds with calming music, and a blessing from the goddess of sleep for me to crash out. Once I do, I sleep like a rock, but until then, I’m wandering this giant fancy lake house in the middle of the night.

Or in this case, standing awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen—where I was hoping to find brownies—and staring athim.

Jamie Henderson. All devastating blue eyes, fiery red hair, and freckles scattered everywhere.

“Hey, Amanda,” he chokes out, clearly as surprised as I am.But the surprise fades in a second, and an easy smile lights up his face.

Or that’s the light from the refrigerator.

I need to get a grip.

“Hey, Jamie.”

He shuts the refrigerator door, then flicks on the light over the large kitchen island.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up.”

“Me either. But I couldn’t sleep. Why are you digging through the fridge?”

He pats his stomach. “I’m a growing boy.” He holds up a slice of cold pizza.

“Right.”

I scoot around him, trying to act normal. But that’s not so easy.

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