Page 37 of Imperfect Player

“Oh, come on. Don’t be mad, Prescott. It was just a few dirty texts,” I yell after him, trying to rub salt in the wound.

“Do you want to get your ass kicked?” Fox says with a laugh.

“I’d like to see him try,” I say.

Head down, feet firmly planted on the ground, I make my way to the mound for what I hope is the last time today.

Three strikes and they’re out.

I kick the dirt. Center myself.

My head snaps up to face the batter. My eyes drift over to Fox.

My mind only on two things: the strike zone and Everly.

The ball leaves my hand and sails through the air.

Strike one.

Eyes on Fox. Mind on the strike zone and Everly, I pitch again.

Strike two.

The batter is pissed. Thomas, I think his name is.

Well, Thomas, you’re about to be downright furious.

Eyes on Fox. Mind on the strike zone and Everly, I pitch again.

Strike three.

Looks like Everly is more than just my little ray of sunshine. Seems she’s my goddamn lucky charm, too.

Chapter 10

Everly

“You’re my lucky charm.”

That’s the first message I saw when I woke up this morning. My smile was automatic. As it is every time I so much as think about Ethan. And it’s remained steadfast on my face all day.

Yes, like a fool, I’ve been walking around with this giddy smile all day because Ethan Ambrose called me his lucky charm.

Even the constant reminder to myself that we’re just friends, nothing more, isn’t helping.

As I sit at the bar with Chelle chatting about our week, game two in the series begins. The moment I hear the National Anthem, my eyes are glued to the big-screen TV.

“I’ve never seen you so invested in a game before.”

I’ve never felt so invested before. I’ve never cared beyond the stats, the player, the fact that they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing. Wins and losses—they happen.

Not for Ethan, though. Not now. I want to be his lucky charm. I want him to text me and tell me that the win was because he has me.

I want him to have me.

“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

“What? Who?”

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