Page 51 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Thanks.” He glances over to Easton and then back to me. “Hey, man, some of us are thinking about going out tonight if you want to hang with us.”

“Thanks, but I have plans,” Easton says, and I hate that regardless of how much I’ve pushed him away, a little part of me is jealous of whoever he has plans with.

“Your loss. I know it’s your thing to keep them all strung on a line, but that pretty little blonde keeps asking for you.” He chuckles in that way that says, go for it. I’ve been in enough clubhouses to know the sound of encouragement when I hear it.

And the sound of it pisses me off.

He’s got plans with one woman, is stringing the blonde along, all the while making promises to me. Done with the conversation, and not wanting for him to read the emotions I can’t seem to hide from him, I turn without saying another word and head over to grab my bag.

I try to be rational. I try to not care, and I hate that I’ve lowered my guard enough, let myself hope enough, that I thought he really liked me. Believed he was different. Not a player.

And the idea of other women liking him irritates me because I know thousands of women would way more than just like him; they’d hop in bed with him without a second thought.

“Scout?”

“You’re done for the day.” I try to hide the hurt, try to hide the fact that I might be overreacting, because I should know better. Hope is a dangerous thing, especially when you’re pinning it on someone else.

One step forward and five steps back in the How Fucked-up Is Scout’s Head game.

Cool down like normal. Ice for twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. Text me if you have any problems.

-Scout

A note?

She left me a fucking note?

Whoever did a number on her is a fucker. Grade A asshole. But I don’t have time to worry about him because I need to find her. Talk to her. Wear her down. Figure out what the fuck spooked her again.

I run out of the locker room—cleats still on—and see Manny. “Hey, Man. Did you see which way Scout went?” A grin spreads slowly on his lips, and I know he’s assumed I’m looking for her for more than just my cool down instructions. “Save the lecture, old man.”

His grin grows wider, and he points down the tunnel that leads out to the parking lot. “No lecture at all.”

His laugh echoes after me as I hustle down the corridor and out the side entrance of the ballpark. It only takes me a few seconds to spot Scout and jog after her.

“A note, Scout?”

She freezes midstride for a split second before she begins walking again. “Yep. A note. You worked out. You can cool down with my instructions. I’m your trainer, and—”

“If you’re my trainer, then do your goddamn job!” I shout at her, frustrated in every way imaginable by this woman who continues to test me, push me away, run away, when I can see in her eyes that she wants me just as much as I want her.

“I was. You got your instructions. You know what to do. Didn’t know I had to hold your hand, Wylder.”

“I know what to do, all right,” I mutter as I glance around to make sure no one from the team is around. Throw you over my shoulder and take you up to my place so we can figure this the fuck out. And then I can lay you down and we can make this all better.

“Once a player always a player, right?” she sneers.

“Drew.” His name is all I have to say to know what she’s pissed about. I’m a dumbass for not putting two and two together.

“String ’em along? Is that what you’re doing to me, so you can keep a woman in every city, ready and waiting for when you pass through town?” The hurt in her eyes is undeniable, and I hate that I put it there.

“What the fuck did he do to you to make you think so highly of men, Scout?”

Emotions flicker through her eyes before she can clear them and avert her gaze. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

I jog after her, pissed at myself for chasing her, and at the same time wanting to figure out what exactly is going on. “The blonde is no one.”

“Mm-hmm.” She keeps her eyes focused straight ahead and refuses to look my way.