Page 141 of Scoring the Player
“Yep. Where’s the wine?”
“I have an open bottle of Albariño in the wine fridge outside.”
I follow him out and unload the glass and buns next to the grill.
“You know,” Sid tosses over his shoulder as I climb up his hill and stretch out on the grass, “the furniture is comfortable.”
“I hate patio furniture.”
He smirks, and I hear him mutter, “Who hates patio furniture?”
A few minutes later, I sit up when he brings over the grub. “Good lookin’.”
He made a smiley face with BBQ sauce, remembered that I hate ketchup on anything but fries, and prefer sliced jalapeños over pickles on my sandwich.
“Good to see you smile,” he says, lifting his burger for a bite.
“So, how much trouble am I in?” I ask.
“None. I talked to Coach.”
I stare at him. “Seriously?”
He nods.
I make a mental note to definitely buy him a car.
“Wanna tell me why I was about to throw our new assistant coach out by his neck?”
“You knew he was joining?” Each team has its own dynamic, but there’s no way the Royals would recruit someone for the coaching team without consulting their star player.
“Yeah. They shared their top picks with me a few weeks ago. He was leagues above the other candidates.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
I wait for him to finish chewing, then he answers, “I didn’t think there was anything to tell. You don’t care about this stuff.” He wipes his mouth. “And you never told me about him. You know you keep everything about your past close to the vest.”
He’s right on both counts. I still let out a grunt before taking another bite of my burger.
“So, what’s the deal? Y’all used to date or something?”
My swallow sticks in my throat.
“You good?”
I polish off the whiskey.
“That bad?”
I shrug. “We got close. And I thought he… I made a pass, and he...” I blow out a breath.
“He what?”
“Turned me down.”
“Oh,” Sid says. A beat passes before he asks, “When you sayclose?”
“I don’t know.” I clasp my hands behind my neck and drop my head between my knees.
