The Boyfriend League Read online

  “I had a good time,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  “Maybe we can do it again.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “You know, I’m sorta regretting we went ahead and got the kiss over with. Ruined having anything to look forward to at the end of the date.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, that is a downside.”

  “Good night, then, with no good-night kiss.”

  “Good night.”

  He took a step off the porch. Turned back to me. “Can’t do it,” he said, and gave me another kiss. Then grinning broadly, like he was pleased with himself, he left.

  When I walked inside, Mom was waiting in the foyer and said, “How was the concert?”

  “Loud.”

  Tiffany and Jason were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed they’d headed on upstairs.

  “Tiffany said it was fun.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  I shrugged. That she’d watched me playing a game of tonsil hockey? “That it was loud?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t suppose you replaced that missing carton of ice cream I left you a note about.”

  “Your dad did.”

  “Great.”

  I pulled the pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and went upstairs. I was going to go to my room, but I noticed light flickering in the game room. The TV was on, the lights out, the French doors closed.

  I peered through one of the panes and could see Jason sitting on the reclining love seat, his back to me, because the love seat was in the middle of the room, right in front of the TV.

  I debated with myself: go to my room, join Jason in the game room.

  I pushed on the door, and it made an audible click that could be heard even with the TV on. Jason glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  “Hey, it’s your house, your TV, your TiVo.”

  Grinning, I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. “Actually, everything you just named technically belongs to my parents.”

  I sat on the love seat, curled my feet beneath me, took the lid off the carton of ice cream, set it on the small glass-topped table beside me, and spooned out a bit with a nice ball of cookie dough in it.

  I ate the ice cream and pointed my empty spoon toward the TV. “So you’re a fan of House?”

  He hit the TiVo’s pause button just as a patient flat-lined. “I’ve only watched a few episodes. Not sure I’d want this guy to be my doctor.”

  I laughed. “I hear you. He seems to have a lot of wrong diagnoses. Dad actually has this irritating habit of hitting the button to see how much time is left whenever they come up with a diagnosis. If there’s too much time left, he’ll go, ‘That’s not it.’ I’m not even sure why we like the show. It’s not like the symptoms mean anything to us and we can figure out what’s wrong with the patients.”

  “I think people like that House says out loud the things we all wish we could say.”

  And I wondered if he had things he wanted to say.

  “Can I be honest?” I asked.

  “Sure, but I already know what you’re going to say. You like that guy who plays Chase.”

  I grinned, deciding not to admit it had been weird kissing Mac in front of him. “When he talks, sure. I have a soft spot for accents. TV Guide named him one of the sexiest guys on TV, and if TV Guide says it, you know it’s true. I’ll bet you like Cameron.”

  He grinned back at me. “Cuddy.”

  “Ah. I think she’s my dad’s favorite, too, but don’t tell Mom.” I spooned out another bit of ice cream. “Sure you don’t want any?”

  He shrugged and leaned toward me. “Okay, I’ll take some.”

  Which I’d so not expected, and which had me wondering what I was supposed to do now. Stick my spoon in his mouth?

  I felt a cold drip on the hand holding the carton and realized my spoon was suspended and the ice cream was starting to melt. I extended it toward him, watched as his mouth closed around my spoon. Now what? I was so not used to feeding guys.

  He wrapped his hand around my wrist and guided my hand back. I watched appreciation glide over his face like hot fudge over a banana split.

  “It tastes like you,” he said.

  The heat rushed into my face. “Uh, yeah, my lip balm…same flavor.”

  “I think it just became my favorite ice cream.”

  Ookaay. So was that an endorsement of my kiss?

  “You say that like you’d never tried it before.”

  “I hadn’t.”

  I stared at him. “It’s one of their most famous. How could you not try it?”

  “I’m not into trends. Just because someone else is doing it, doesn’t mean I want to.”

  I glanced down at the ice cream melting in the carton. I remembered his taste—root beer. And Mac’s? I really couldn’t say.

  It was rare when I didn’t delve into ice cream with gusto. “Earlier you said you and Mac had talked about me. What exactly?”

  “Just usual guy stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “How much he likes you.”

  My insecurities were circling. “Did he like me before Dave and Bubba’s, before Tiffany put me through the extreme makeover?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  He sounded completely baffled, like maybe I’d just asked a Tiffany-style question.

  “Okay, look, earlier, when I mentioned being honest, I just wanted to say that it was weird kissing Mac in front of you, because I don’t kiss guys in front of people. So, anyway, I just wanted you to know that.”

  “Consider it known.”

  “Okay then.”

  I got up. “Do you want me to leave this with you?”

  “Sure you don’t mind?”

  “Nah.” I handed him the carton and spoon. “Enjoy.”

  My offer wasn’t totally generous. I took perverse pleasure at the thought he’d think about me with each bite.

  I wondered if maybe he might have been my date tonight if he wasn’t living in my house.

  Would it be rude to ask him to move out?

  Chapter 18

  It was official. I had a boyfriend.

  Not that Mac or I used the BF/GF designation when referring to each other, but it was pretty obvious. We hung out together after practice and after the games. And we were doing a whole lot of kissing.

  It was also obvious that whatever bad luck I’d brought the team had dissipated. We won three games in a row. The final game, against the Denton Outlaws, was a shutout. Jason pitched his best game ever.

  I never saw him at Bird’s parties, but then he’d been scarce lately. We still did our morning exercise routine. During one session, we’d brainstormed an idea I had for my column—the joys and trials of hosting a player and being hosted by a family you didn’t know, adjusting to their routines. We’d tossed back and forth some of the different challenges. I was hoping to have an opportunity to actually interview him in more depth, as research for the article.

  But like I said, he wasn’t around much.

  I found myself thinking about that recent development as I checked my e-mail Thursday morning.

  One of the e-mails that popped up was marked with the subject “Appreciation Splash!” and was from [email protected] Beginning Sunday, the team had three days with no games. The team owners—yes, they actually had owners—had decided to thank the families for providing homes for the team players by having an appreciation day at The Splash Zone, one of the area water parks. Tickets were heavily discounted and a pavilion had been reserved for our use.

  Of course, Bird called me about ten seconds after the e-mail hit my inbox to confirm that she and Brandon were definitely up for going. Did I think Mac and I would go?

  “Actually, this is the weekend he’s going home for his sister’s birthday,” I told her.