Flirting With Maybe Read Free Page A

minute, looking up at her two-story brick rambler, which put Ryan and his mom’s little town house to shame.
    “Thanks for driving me. It was nice. Maybe you could drive me home again another time?”
    He nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Anytime.”
    Brooke smoothed back some stray strands of hair. “And . . . thanks for listening to me babble.”
    She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his cheek before disappearing inside her house.

CHAPTER TWO
    A t practice that day, Ryan hit better than he ever had, baseballs banging off the gym’s high ceiling. J.J. couldn’t get a single strike off him. Steve, the third baseman, gave J.J. a hard time when they took a water break.
    “How are we gonna beat the Raiders next week if you can’t even strike out a sophomore?” Steve smacked Ryan on the butt with his glove to let him know he was joking. Steve was a senior and always keeping an eye on Ryan.
    “Shut up, Steve,” J.J. said. “At least I’m not Brooke Bennett’s little bitch like Ry-Ry McPhearson .” Some of the guys laughed, but Ryan just looked away. He knew J.J. was pissed because he wasn’t used to losing, but he wished he wouldn’t drag Brooke into it. Especially after what she’d told him.
    “Hey, McPhearson,” J.J. continued, “quit wasting your time, bro. Brooke flirts but she don’t put out. And definitely not for a tenth grader.”
    Ryan’s face heated with a sudden, intense anger.
    J.J. walked up and stood over Ryan as he sat at the bottom of the bleachers, staring at the glove in his hands. He told himself to ignore J.J.’s taunts. Everyone knew he was a smack talker. Ryan was the newbie on the team and didn’t want to do anything to get himself demoted to JV, but J.J. just wouldn’t let it go. He stood over Ryan, smirking.
    “She’s a tease, man. You wanna hang with her, you better get used to having blue balls.”
    Ryan stood up and looked the tall, lanky pitcher in the eye. His body was tight and he dropped his glove to the floor, hands balled up. J.J. grinned in amusement as the team huddled around them.
    “Damn, the Kid’s got it bad,” J.J. said.
    Their coach, who’d been watching it all play out from a chair, hollered without getting up.
    “Quit actin’ like a bunch of dang girls! Gimme ten laps around the gym. All of you! We don’t need this horse crap with our first game in a week. Go on. Get your asses out there!”
     
    The guys didn’t hold grudges. After their near fight in the gym, J.J. was cool with Ryan again. He joked and swatted his butt with his glove, still calling him “the Kid.” Ryan would have paid good money for a different nickname, but it stuck.
    The next week at their first game, Ryan did his best to act like the older guys. He ignored the girls yelling in the stands. Practically half the sophomore girls had come out to cheer him on. He was next up at bat. He licked his lips, spit to the side, and scuffed his cleats in the dirt next to home plate.
    “You got this, Ry,” he heard Brooke say as he readied his stance. Adrenaline poured through his system as he honed his sights on the pitcher’s body movements, his windup signaling a fastball on its way, then he crushed the ball for a double, sending two players home. Ryan was in the zone. He could no longer hear the cheers or jeers, even from Brooke.
    He wouldn’t allow himself to glance toward the dugout or stands while he was in position at right field; this set of batters was all about the pop-ups and he had to keep his eyes open. Between innings he sneaked glances at Brooke as she called out the next lineups and prepared water bottles for the team.
    “Pitcher keeps catching you with that curveball to the outside,” she said to Steve during the seventh inning stretch.
    “Yeah, I know.” He frowned, tapping his bat on his heel to knock off a clump of grass.
    “Just adjust your stance and go in for it,” she advised.
    “Yup.” And that’s exactly what Steve did at his next at bat, earning