Page 14 of Fake Dates and Home Plates
I pick up my phone long enough to open it with my face ID and toss it over to her. “Just open the streaming app and turn on whatever you want.”
She smiles, her mouth turning upward to reach her ocean blue eyes, and I swear, my entire body lights up because of it.
“You have no idea what you’re saying, Baseball Boy.”
“I’m up for whatever you got, Getaway Girl.”
She lets out a humored scoff as she types and scrolls. “Getaway Girl?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you try to run away from everyone else, right?”
She just hums in return.
It’s a clever nickname, and we both know it.
The sounds of a song I’ve never heard begin to filter through, and she sings along quietly.
“What is this?” I ask.
“My mom was really into pop punk in college, and she never grew out of the phase. I guess I inherited the emo-girl thing. It’s my running playlist.” She shrugs without shame.
The song fades into another as we approach her apartment near her campus. My Jeep is pretty recognizable on both campuses, which means talk about me dropping her off will be going around soon.
As I come to a stop on the curb outside her building, I feel a little pinch in my chest. I don’t care that I got to hold her all night; I’m worried about her being alone.
“Do you have roommates?” I ask as I put the car in park.
She nods. “Yeah, I live with one of my teammates. She’s probably waiting with a bucket of ice cream on the couch.”
Good.
She unbuckles her seatbelt, and I do the same, hopping out of the car and running around to open her door. Henley’s already climbing out before I can get there, though.
“Next time, it’d be helpful if you let your fake boyfriend do that for you. I’d hate for people to think I’m anything but a gentleman.”
She frowns and looks down at her feet.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I lift her chin to face me.
“Even though he cheated on me—inpublic—I’m still going to be judged for moving on too fast.”
Double fucking standards. This girl is a goddess who deserves so much more than that. I’ll prove it to her.
“Caring what others think doesn’t really seem like your thing, Getaway Girl.”
Her lips tug up into a barely there smile. “No, I guess it isn’t, really.”
“Good girl.” The phrase slips out so easily, despite never having used it before. I think all those books I’ve read are getting to my head.
But there’s no time to backtrack, because the most beautiful blush takes over her cheeks.
My girl has a praise kink.
“Let’s take a couple of pics so I can use them on my social media this week,” I tell her as I grab my phone from her seat in the Jeep.
We take a couple of selfies, but they look too staged.
“Hold on. We look like we don’t even know each other,” she says before grabbing my arm and wrapping it around her shoulders with her back against my chest. “Now take one.”
