Page 36 of Wild Pitch
I twist my head as if that could help me discern whether to swipe right or left. It’s not about his looks, the guy is pretty normal looking. Dirty blond, slightly thinning around his temples, with normal clothes that don’t scream dude-bro-douche, an unassuming smile, and a decent build. He works out, maybe not with high intensity, but frequently enough to give him some definition. Which should mean he wouldn’t feel too intimidated to see I’m well beyond a gym rat.
Moreover, he’s a high school chemistry teacher, and even includes a couple of fun pictures his students must’ve taken while he was doing an experiment in class. In one, whatever it is was in the middle of exploding, and rather than surprise or anger there’s a childlike glee on his face that automatically makes him more attractive in my books.
My thumb hovers for another second until I just swipe right. Confetti rains down the screen, announcing that we’re a match.
Good to know that the teacher has taste.
A shadow falls over me. I lean my head back on the backrest of my chair and nearly jump in my skin at seeing the gorgeous upside down face of one Logan Kim.
“Whatchu up to, Garcia?” he asks because he clearly wants to hear it from my mouth, even though his eyes are pointedly trained on the screen of my cellphone.
Something nudges my foot and it turns out to be Starr, taking the chair next to mine on the left. On my other side, Rivera does the same.
I press my phone against my chest. “Rather, the question is what are you all doing?”
“Sitting. I thought it’d be obvious.” Starr cocks an eyebrow at me and I kick his foot under the table.
Rivera rubs his hands. “Are you kidding? This is the best table in the house to catch the exact moment the hotel staff serves the dinner buffet. You have a good eye, Garcia.”
“Not sure ‘bout that,” I mumble, checking my screen again. It’s not like any of my picks so far have turned out to begood.
Kim walks around the table to sit across from me. Once he’s situated, he extends his hand out to me. “Let me see that.”
Like a child, I try to hide my phone again. All he needs to do is motion at me and I guess I’m not at all immune to a pretty face, because I cave. Sighing, I stretch over the table to give him my phone.
The other two stooges scoot closer to the catcher and huddle like they’d do around an iPad in the dugout, trying to analyze some play or look at stats. Instead, they quietly examine the match I just made after looking at dozens of prospects, swiping left at least at half, and not matching with a quarter of them. I’m exhausted already and it’s not even eight in the evening.
Finally, Kim offers my phone back, saying, “You can do better.”
“He’s too normal, it freaks me out.” Rivera sticks his tongue out like it even gives him a bad taste.
Meanwhile, Starr leans back, rubbing his chin and staring at me like I’m the lab experiment. “Why did you choose him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“As your dating coach,” he says in a quiet voice that I can hear clearly because this area of the lobby is quiet. “That’s bullshit. I bet there are one hundred reasons.”
Huffing makes a strand of my hair fly in the air for a second. “You just want to know to make fun of me.”
“Am I laughing here?” Starr’s expression is the most deadpanned I’ve ever seen.
Like him, Kim and Rivera look more curious than eager to give me crap. I guess I’ll put that to the test.
“Fine, but if it leaves this table I know who all leaked it and I’ll slash your tires.”
“Fair,” Starr says.
Rivera shrugs. “Yeah.”
All Kim does is nod.
I lean forward and they do the same, so I can lower my voice. “For starters, he’s not a ten.”
Rivera bobs his head and says, “Yeah, don’t need a high school degree to figure that out.”
“Why the hell would you pick a three at best?” Starr scrunches up his face.
“Please.” I blow a raspberry likeheis the one who knows nothing. “Any guy who is a four or higher is after a ten. I have a much better chance with the threes and under.”
