Page 63 of The Curveball
“Done.” Griffin nudges Parker’s arm. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah.” With a pitchy whistle he tells Mason’s teammates practicing on the field that their time is up. The teens groan a bit, but the second a lanky redhead starts talking about a party at some girl’s house later, their moods shift.
Once the kids are gone, Parker seems to finally notice the way Griffin keeps his hand on me - whether he’s holding mine or has a hand on my waist. Parker arches his brow, and my body overheats until I think I might boil my hair off.
The pitcher is smart and says nothing, but he’s wondering. He wants to ask. The night isn’t over. Odds are we’re going to get questioned soon enough.
“I’ll go grab Skye and we’ll head to the restaurant. You want to drive or me?”
“You, man,” Griffin says. “You have a monster truck. More leg room.”
Parker laughs, but it’s true. These two barely fit into normal sized cars when they travel together. “Okay. I think Ryd will already be there.”
“Did you convince Dax to come out?” Griffin asks.
“I tried. He said maybe. So . . .”
“Understood.” Griffin scoffs. “He’s probably going to call it a sick night and stay home texting whoever he texts all the time.”
Parker nods and heads toward the back of the practice field.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask. “Dax texting all the time?”
Griffin’s eyes practically sparkle when he looks at me. “We think Dax has a secret girl. He’s always talking to someone. We let him think we assume it’s one of his sisters, but I don’t know. I think there’s someone else.”
“Seriously? Dax Sage?”
“Right? He’s growing up so fast. But don’t say a word, Birdie. If he thinks we’re onto him, he’ll turtle it up again and go back into his shell.”
I mimic zipping my lips. “Not a word.”
“That’s my girl.” Griffin squeezes my hand and starts walking in the direction Parker left.
I’m a tangle of nerves. He doesn’t even realize the things he says are ruining me piece by piece. They’re destroying my defenses, tossing up the white flag. Griffin Marks is stealing my shriveled heart, and I don’t think I care to stop it.
* * *
“You so did.”Griffin gives me an incredulous look. “Birdie, you talk in your sleep.”
“I do not. You, sir, count in your sleep. I’m pretty sure you’re counting pitches or runs, but you definitely count.”
“No. No way.” He laughs and takes a drink from his water glass. “You’re deflecting and putting all the focus off you.”
My hand drops to his leg under the table and squeezes the pressure point I’ve discovered makes him squirm. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“Okay.” He tries to bolt away from me, grinning. I squeeze his knee again. “Okay, okay. You don’t, you don’t.”
“So easy, Marks.” I toss my hair off my shoulder. “I know your weakness.”
Griffin scoots his chair six inches away from me. “No, I really don’t think you do.”
Only once he’s made some distance between us do I realize the rest of the table is silent. Skye and Parker are practically gawking at us.
Ryder has a date named Kiera, but she’s more interested in complaining about her food. Ryder frowns at us and takes a massive bite of his T-bone.
Dax didn’t show, as predicted.
“Okay, I’ll say it,” Skye says, breaking the silence. “What is going on with you two?”