“Here,” I say, handing her my sweatshirt. “I’ve kept you out late and I don’t want you to freeze because of me.” It’s going to be huge on her, but seeing her wearing something with my name on it will be worth it.
Daisy takes off her hat and tries to hide her messy hair. “It’s okay. My hair looks crazy when I take my hat off.”
She squints and sort of shakes her head. I guess I wasn’t supposed to say anything about how her hair looks. How the hell am I supposed to know that? My mother raised me to be honest and say what’s on my mind. I guess this is one of those times when media training will come in handy.
As soon as she pulls my sweatshirt over her head, I’m eyeing her backside. I’m not looking at her ass, but at my name and number spread across her back. There’s no bigger rush for an athlete than seeing your name on the back of someone you like. This is a player issued sweatshirt and not available for our fans to buy. The minute she walks out of here people are going to assume she’s my girlfriend. Panic should set in. My palms should be itching and my heart racing at the thought of being labeled with a girlfriend, except none of those things happen.
Instead, I picture her in my jersey and nothing else, with her long hair free from any binding ties and her bare feet walking across my hardwood floors. The warmth of the afternoon sun beams through my window as she kneels on my black leather couch next to me. She’s the only woman I can imagine in my place and while that thought should scare the shit out of me, it doesn’t.
There’s a devil sitting on my shoulder whispering into my ear. He’s telling me that I need to do everything in my power to get Daisy back to my place. The angel on the other side is telling me to walk her home, or as far as she’ll let me, and get her number. The devil is telling me to bang the shit out of her and I like that idea, except I have a feeling that once I have a taste, I’m going to be a greedy bastard and want more. And something tells me that waiting for her might be worth it.
“You look really sex… cute in my sweatshirt.” I pull on the side a little; it’s bulky and I don’t even come close to touching her, but it makes me feel connected. Her eyes go from me to the shirt and back to me. The black fabric against her blonde hair and green eyes makes her pale skin stand out.
“I really should go.”
I nod, agreeing with her even though I don’t want this night to be over. I wish tomorrow were an off day; we could spend all night talking, or just keeping each other company. Taking her hand in mine, I realize how small hers is in comparison to mine. I hold them up together, examining them, before I drop our arms to our sides and start down the hall. Walking with her like this feels as natural as baseball does – only baseball doesn’t make me horny and she’s definitely causing a reaction in my nether region.
Well… well… well… it seems Mr. Davenport has found himself a “friend”. There will be more on that in a minute.
Today’s loss hurt, especially after Davenport set a two-run shot into the bleachers. Renegade fans thought for sure that after Saturday’s loss, we wouldn’t see our guys drop back-to-back L’s.
The Orioles, on the other hand, shelled starting pitcher, Max Tadashi, bringing in early relief, who didn’t fare much better.
Steve Bainbridge looks like the rumors of his impending retirement or trade are starting to get to him as he looked stiff and out of sorts, committing two errors on the night.
The Renegades are home Monday night with Hank Sinclair taking the mound. The fans hope to see a better showing than the previous night.
GOSSIP WIRE: