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  When I asked him what this was, he started laughing.

  “Jake, you should have seen the girl who handed this to me,” he chuckled. “She was hot! I mean, I know I’m only in high school, but this girl was next level compared to the girls I see roaming the halls.”

  I shook my head at him while smiling wide, raising my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah! She had blonde hair with purple tips, her body was…” he trails off, his eyes focused off to the side reminiscing about his new crush.

  I snap my fingers in front of his face, bringing him back to reality.

  “So this is her number then?” I ask, staring down at the back of the ticket he handed me, reading over the digits.

  He shakes his head at me this time. “Nope, it’s her friend’s. They were sitting behind the dugout along the third baseline.”

  And that bit of information catches my attention, pulling my eyes back up to meet his.

  “Really?” I say, overly excited. Once I’ve calmed myself down a bit, I continue. “Did you see what she looked like?”

  He nods. “Yup, she was hot too, but not in the same way as her friend that gave me the ticket,” he points down to my hand. “But she had blonde hair too, and dark brown eyes. At least, that’s what it looked like from where I was standing.”

  And there goes my heart pounding in my rib cage.

  I thought that was her again. It took every ounce of control in my body not to look in her direction tonight, but from the side, I caught a glimpse of a girl who looked just like the one I made eye contact with last week.

  After the incident that followed our connection last time, I knew better than to risk catching her gaze again. But my body was very aware that she resembled the same woman that’s been on my mind for days.

  “You’re sure that’s what she looked like? You’re sure it’s her number and not the friend?”

  “I’m sure. I mean, that’s what the friend told me anyway. She said you’d know who she was if you remember the girl you locked eyes with last week.”

  And there’s the confirmation. She was looking at me. She must have felt it too. That moment wasn’t just a fluke. It wasn’t just another fan admiring a rookie after his first home run. There was something more, and now I want to know what that is.

  I take a deep breath. “Well thanks, Becket.” I turn to walk away from him.

  “Are you gonna call her?” He calls out to me as I stride towards the locker room.

  I shrug. “We’ll see.”

  And now here I am, contemplating how long I should wait before I call. Or would a text be okay? Would she even believe it was me if I text her?

  And then all these questions come barreling at me.

  Why did her friend give me her number?

  Was she too shy to do it herself?

  Is this really the friend’s number and not hers?

  Is this something I really want to pursue? Is she just a crazy fan that could escalate this situation much too quickly?

  And then, if I do text or call, then she’ll have my number, which opens up a whole other can of worms.

  Fuck.

  I pound my beer and search the room out for Rocky. I need another opinion.

  “Rocky!” I shout for him, his face turning to find me before he walks back up to my table.

  “What’s up, Calhoun?”

  I spend the next five minutes filling him in on my encounter with the girl last week and debate over how to proceed.

  “So this girl is the reason you almost took a ball to the face in your first game?”

  I snort at him, which makes him chuckle. “Yeah.”

  “Well, man… that’s really up to you. I mean, is what you think you felt that strong to ignore it? Will it be worth it if she turns out to be crazy?” He laughs and I return the sentiment.

  “I honestly don’t know, dude. I just know what I felt was so out of the ordinary. I feel like my curiosity is getting the best of me.”

  He nods. “You know what they say about curiosity though? It killed the rookie,” he winks at me. “Just be careful, Jake. These women are crazy and not in a good way. They want to be able to say they wore one of us down, hung on our arms at one point in their lives, or shout from the rooftops they made it into our beds. And some take it to a whole other level. They become obsessed, stalking you around town and outside of the stadium. If they catch wind of where you live or even the grocery store you go to, you’ll find it hard to even live your day-to-day life.”

  He takes another sip of his beer. “I know I may seem like I like the attention, and have a different girl on my arm each night, but I’m very choosy about who I sleep with, and I NEVER bring a girl back to my place. And no phone numbers are ever exchanged.” He looks down at my hands where the ticket was before I placed in it my jeans.

  His words filter in my ears and swirl around in my brain, confirming every fear I had about dating in the MLB. I know I don’t want to be alone forever, but how do you know who to trust? How do you know the crazy women from the sane ones? Is there some warning before they flip a switch on you?

  And then it comes back to her, the girl whose number is burning a hole in my pocket. Is she worth the risk?

  “Just trust your gut,” he finishes, patting me on the shoulder before turning back to a few of the other guys at the pool table.

  I remove the ticket from my pocket again, smoothing out the wrinkles formed.

  Did the girl make such a strong impact on me in five seconds that I’m willing to jeopardize my privacy and sanity this soon into my professional career? Is this one of those moments I’ll look back on and instantly regret when things go south? Or do I trust my intuition that’s telling me to see what happens?

  Whatever I decide, I know this changes everything. This number changes the game.

  Chapter 6

  Dani

  It’s been three days since Lochlin gave my number to Jake, and no matter how much I’ve told myself I don’t care that he hasn’t called, a big part of me deep down does care. Of course, I knew the chance that he would actually contact a fan whose friend was playing matchmaker was slim to none. But I had a tiny sliver of hope that I could be the exception. His lack of response confirms my notion that our moment was all in my head, and I need to focus my attention elsewhere.

  Tonight is the next home game, but I’m nervous to attend. I’ve never felt that way about going to a Rays game before unless it was because they were in the playoffs. Because it’s not just about watching baseball anymore or enjoying nachos and beer.

  Now there’s the underlying sense of a cosmic pull, this war in my mind of why do I have a crush on an MLB player NOW after I’ve been watching the game all of my life?

  I grasp the necklace hanging just below my collarbone, the gold arrows of the compass piercing into my palm from my stronghold. My father gave me this necklace for my thirteenth birthday after I had a really tough year at school. Little did I know it would be the last birthday present he ever gave me. My parents died just a few weeks later.

  Most of the girls in my grade were developing breasts and curves, while my stick figure body resembling that of a twelve-year-old boy had yet to get the memo that it was time to turn into a woman.

  Girls would tease me constantly in the locker room for still wearing a training bra while they had suddenly all sprouted boobs. Lochlin got hers before me too, but she never turned on me, remaining the true friend she always was and still is.

  I remember my dad coming into my room that morning, just a few days into summer vacation, rubbing my back and waking me up from my deep sleep.

  “It’s almost ten, Dani. You don’t want to sleep your birthday away, do you, hun?”

  I crack one eye open to see my dad sitting beside me on my bed.

  “Happy birthday, baby,” he says before he leans down and kisses my forehead.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I reply while sitting myself up in bed so I can see him eye-to-eye. I noticed the small black b
ox sitting next to him on my comforter as he grabs it and presents it to me.

  “For you.”

  I smile up at him before untying the bow and removing the lid, granted with the gold necklace in the shape of a compass lying against the purple velvet.

  “Aww, Dad. I love it,” I declare while he helps me remove it from the box and secures it around my neck.

  “I’m glad. I wanted to give you something special today, Dani.” He takes a deep breath before he continues.

  “I know you’ve had a rough year, and life hasn’t placed you down the same path as your friends, or any of the other girls for that matter.”

  “Oh God, Dad. Are you talking about the fact that my boobs haven’t come in yet? Because this is embarrassing,” I hide my eyes while my father chuckles at me.

  “Yes, that’s a part of it. But what I want to tell you goes beyond just boobs,” he winks at me. “There are going to be things in your life that happen and you will question why they did. People will get things that you want, you’ll experience loss and tragedy, road bumps and obstacles that will interfere with your dreams. But if you dwell on that, you’ll miss the direction that your life is being pointed in,” he points to the necklace on my chest.

  “Don’t get lost looking in only one direction kiddo. Because you’ll forget about all the other directions you can go in. Trust in your path and everything will fall into place.”

  I hold the necklace in my hands, tears forming in my eyes. My dad has always had a way with words, and I get what he’s trying to say. I can’t compare my path or my life to anyone else’s. I have to believe that everything will happen when it’s meant to, including me getting boobs.

  “I love you kiddo,” he kisses my temple as he stands.

  “I love you too, Dad. Thank you for this. I’ll keep it safe forever.”

  “Dani, you ready to go? I don’t want to be late,” Conner’s voice pulls me from my memory, the tear slipping down my cheek alerts me that I was lost in the moment that felt so real. God, I miss my parents every day.

  I turn to him, trying to hide my sudden surge of emotions.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I say as I take in my younger brother, the spitting image of our dad. His dark brown hair styled messily, his chocolate brown eyes stare up at me, and his lanky body is decked out in a button-down shirt and dress slacks.

  Tonight is his first middle school dance, and if my hunch is correct, there is a girl that he’s trying to impress. It would definitely explain his sudden investment in his appearance.

  “You look so handsome, Conner,” I say as the tears return.

  He rolls his eyes at me. God, I hate that.

  “Don’t cry, Dani. It’s not that big of a deal.” He shrugs my reaction off as he checks his appearance again in the mirror next to the front door.

  “Then why do you care what you look like so much then, huh?” I tease him, as he gives me the side-eye. “Is there a girl you want to dance with?”

  His eyes find the floor while he clears his throat. “No, I just want to look nice.”

  “Uh, huh. Sure,” I drag out while I grab my keys and my purse and motion for the door.

  “Do you mind if I wear your hat tonight since you won’t be at the game?” I ask while flipping the hat off the rack on the wall. The hat Conner always wears was our dad’s and I just want to feel close to him tonight.

  “Yeah that’s fine,” he shrugs again, another of his annoying pre-teen habits he’s picked up.

  I place the hat on my head, check my appearance, and then we leave the house where Gramps is waiting outside, rolling the trash cans to the curb for pickup tomorrow.

  “Well, well… you sure do clean up nice, boy! Of course, all of the Peters’ men do,” he beams while pulling Conner in for a hug.

  I snap a few pictures of the three of us and some of just Conner before we pile in the car and drop him off at the school.

  “Brady’s mom is going to take you home to his house tonight, right?” I double check as Conner grabs his overnight bag from the trunk.

  “Yup. And you have her cell just in case. We already went over this, Dani,” he whines as his friends wait on the curb.

  “Hey, I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. Shoot me,” I tease as he comes over to my side of the car and gives me a hug.

  “I know. Thanks,” he whispers before turning around and meeting his friends, pretending like his embrace didn’t just wreck me. Damn my emotions tonight. I can’t get a grip.

  I take my seat behind the wheel again and pull onto the road to head for the stadium.

  “You’re doing a great job with him, Dani,” Gramps breaks the silence beside me.

  “Well, technically you’re his guardian, Gramps. But thanks. I know I’m his sister, but I swear, I feel more like his mom.” I shake my head.

  “An eleven year age difference will do that. And you know I won’t be around forever, girl. When I’m gone, you two will be all you have.”

  I feel a sob come up my throat and do everything I can to push it back down. “Don’t talk like that, Gramps. I mean, I’m not naïve. I know you won’t live forever, but sometimes I just wonder why things ended up this way. I at least have memories of mom and dad, what it felt like to have two parents who loved me and enjoyed every moment of me growing up before they were gone.”

  My hands find my necklace again.

  “You have to trust your path, Dani.” He looks over at me just as I do the same to him.

  “Did you know Dad said that to me just weeks before he died when he gave me this necklace?” I show him the compass around my neck.

  He chuckles as I soak in the wrinkles on his face and his bright white hair. He definitely is getting up there in age. “Where do you think he got his wisdom from kiddo?”

  He shoots me a wink, which makes me smile in memory of my dad while we finish the drive to the game.

  Sitting down in our seats brings another rush of emotion over me, but this time it’s not just sadness. Today has been filled with reminders of my parents, particularly my dad, and my heart is aching.

  But the emotions I feel sitting down for the game are more of the anxious kind. Lochlin couldn’t make it tonight because of her night class, so I don’t have my confidant to vent to about the anxiety I feel watching Jake Calhoun take the field, knowing he has my phone number at his disposal, and he never called it.

  Of course, it only has been three days. Is that three-day rule still a thing anymore? It’s been a while since I’ve dated so I’m not sure on how or if things have changed.

  And I’m sure he’s been busy practicing and playing baseball. You know, doing his job? Worrying about crazy fans who write their numbers on the back of tickets probably isn’t high on his priority list.

  And here I go obsessing and getting my hopes up again. Just because he hasn’t called yet doesn’t mean he won’t, right? But then again, I know the chances are slim anyway, so I exhale deeply in reprieve and focus on my nachos.

  Nachos have never let me down unless you count what they do to my waistline. They are always there when I need them though, and I feel like tonight is one of those nights.

  “The boys are taking the field, Dani,” Gramps shouts, pulling my eyes up to the field where they instantly find Jake.

  And much to my surprise, I’m met with his stare.

  Holy shit! He’s looking at me again, only this time, he’s squinting, like he’s trying to focus or wager whether I’m the same girl from before. I guess I don’t know how the fans might look from the field. I’m sure the light creates a haze, and the distance is pretty substantial, making distinct features hard to see.

  But I don’t move while he looks in my direction, hoping in fact that it is me that’s he’s focused on. And then my hand moves through no control of my own, and I send him a small wave of my fingers.

  He smiles.

  HOLY SHIT!

  Jake Calhoun just smiled at me!

  My heart is racing as my
lips mimic his, a tight-lipped grin gracing my face just as the announcer declares the start of the game and Jake turns his attention back on the field, dialing himself in so he can do his job.

  Mother of God. That. Just. Happened. And it was better than the last time, because I know he was looking at me this time.

  OR was he?

  I turn around and search frantically for any other blonde-haired woman that could resemble myself. I see a crowd of kids behind us, holding up signs for Jake and a few of the other players, but no other women.

  Could he have been smiling at them? The elation I just felt is short lived when I realize his smile very well could have been meant for the children excited to watch their favorite players.

  I slump down in my seat, letting out a huff of air. I’m borderline throwing a tantrum.

  “What’s got you in a tiff?” My grandpa asks as the pitcher strikes out another batter.

  “Nothing.” I shake off my reaction, burying my face back down in my nachos.

  The third batter strikes out, leaving the Rays to return to the dugout in preparation to bat. Eddie Salazar takes the plate first, getting a single on his first pitch, leaving Jake Calhoun up to bat next.

  I place my nachos down on the ground and hunch over in my seat, resting my forearms on my thighs and memorize the angles in his body as he holds his bat.

  Most normal people wouldn’t realize how important a batter’s stance is, but someone who’s grown up watching and studying the game can admire and appreciate the technique it takes to swing a bat and hit a ball flying almost one-hundred miles per hour at you.

  And just as I’m marveling at the tuck of Jake’s arm, the bend of his knee, and the slight push of his ass away from his body, the loud crack of the connection between the ball and the bat rings through the stadium as the ball flies over the fence between center and right field, earning Jake yet another home run.

  “Damn,” I whisper as I watch him circle the bases as the crowd goes wild around us.

  “That boy will be a legend!” Gramps shouts while he stands and applauds the rookie garnering even more attention from his prowess during the game.