“I’ve never had the pie here. I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s really good.” The movement is subtle, but I notice it when she pushes her hand into my touch. To me, this is a sign, and I roll with it by taking her hand in mine. It’s a bit awkward to hold hands on top of the table, but I’m being a gentleman. Next time I’ll share a booth with her.
I quickly place our order and turn my attention back to the beauty across the table from me.
“So, Daisy, do you live in the dorms?”
She takes a drink of water and dabs her mouth with her napkin. “My freshman year I did. Since then, I moved home to save money.”
“So no wild sorority parties?”
Daisy laughs, but doesn’t exactly answer me. She stares at her lap, like she’s thinking of something, so I tell her about my wild days.
“At Oregon State, I was in a fraternity. I wasn’t going to pledge because of baseball, but my buddy thought it would be a great way to meet chicks.”
“Was it?”
I nod. “Yes, and no. I had a girlfriend when I went to college so I never really did the party thing, plus I was busy with baseball. But my junior year – that’s when the parties were off the hook. For every party we had, though, we were also doing community service and fundraisers. Some of them were a bit scandalous.”
Her eyes pop when I mention the word scandalous. “Like what?” she asks, leaning forward.
“Well, this one year, the baseball team did a carwash… in our underwear... in November.”
Daisy covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. “You can laugh all you want. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever participated in, but it gave some orphans a chance at a decent Christmas.”
“That was very nice of you.”
I shrug and reluctantly let go of her hand when our pizza arrives. Our water glasses are refilled and we’re asked if we need anything else. Daisy is the one who tells her we’re fine and digs right into the pie. I like a girl with an appetite and who doesn’t want to eat rabbit food all the time. Sometimes you need to indulge in some carbs to survive.
We eat the first couple of pieces in silence until I open my mouth and, in true Ethan Davenport form, ask the dumbest question yet.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I catch her mid chew and she shoots me what can only be described as an “are you kidding me right now?” look. She puts her fork down and covers her mouth with her napkin while she finishes chewing.
“If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Fair enough,” I say, knowing that’s not even remotely enough to satisfy my mind. “I’m sorry it was rude of me to ask or to make the assumption.” I don’t want to say that I made the assumption that she would, in fact, cheat because I really do feel like she’s different from the others out there.
“Are you going to game tonight?” This is my roundabout way of trying to find out if I’ll see her in the stands, even though I know she’ll be there. More importantly, it gives me a chance to ask her out for later.
“I haven’t missed a game in years, even when I had the flu.”
“Wow, now that’s dedication. I don’t know if I’d get out of bed if I had the flu.”
Daisy laughs and sets her hand back down on the table. Is this a sign that she wants me to touch her or is she simply resting her hand there?
“Not to be rude, but most men think they’re dying when they’re sick.”
I pretend to be insulted, but she’s telling the truth. “Being sick hurts every single bone in my body.”
“Yeah, but you can dive head first into a base and get up just fine.”