The Boyfriend League Read online

  I’d never actually been called a babe before, and now I’d been called a babe twice. Part of me wondered if they really saw me as a babe, and part of me thought, what does it matter? Once called a babe, you can always refer to yourself as a babe.

  “So what do you do for fun around here?” Mac asked.

  He looked way older than the other guys and had a shadow of dark stubble over his face. I figured he was a junior at whatever university he attended. Bird would know the details. I’d have to ask her later.

  “We have a movie theater, an amphitheater with free summer concerts—”

  “I loooves free,” Ethan said.

  “Don’t we all, man,” Mac said. He looked at me, rubbing his fingers together. “Until we make the majors, we’re poor.”

  “Aren’t most college students?” I asked.

  “Yep. So we have movies, free music, what else?”

  “Library, free books,” I offered.

  All the guys laughed really loudly, like that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. But it was a good-natured laugh, not like they were making fun of me. Like maybe they thought I was really clever to offer free books.

  “My kid sister has this book called Free Stuff,” Mac said. “She sends away for all this junk: stickers, posters, booklets. She just loves getting mail.”

  “You guys must miss your families in the summer.”

  “Miss ’em all the time.”

  I didn’t ask why they didn’t go home for summer because I knew the answer: They loooves baseball.

  Mac was really cute, with a dimple that appeared in his cheek whenever he grinned, which he did a lot. I was going to have to up his score to a ten.

  The waitress came over to get our order, and we all went with the buffet—much easier than trying to decide on what type of pizza everyone wanted. While Bird hadn’t been able to arrange the seating at the table, she did manage to maneuver so we were in line together at the buffet.

  “I was hoping we’d be sitting together,” she said, as she reached for a slice of Hawaiian Heaven.

  I never understood why anyone would want pineapple on pizza. I was a meat-and-potatoes kind of gal. I reached for the Double Trouble pepperoni.

  “I already know you, Bird. Isn’t the whole point in our being here to get to know them?” I asked.

  “True. Listen, Brandon needs a ride home, and he lives on the other side of town,” Bird said. “Are you okay going home with Jason?”

  “Sure.”

  Back at the table, the conversation pretty much came to a standstill as the guys turned their attention to food. No Hawaiian Heaven at our end. Not much with vegetables, either. I might not have a boyfriend, but I was familiar enough with guys to know they ate a lot. But these guys ate like the planet would run out of food by tomorrow, so they had to stock up now.

  As I slowly ate my few slices, I let my gaze wander around the table. There were lots of eights, nines, nine point fives, and tens sitting around. Any of these guys would make the perfect summer boyfriend. All I had to do was convince them I’d make the perfect girlfriend.

  Chapter 6

  “So, Bird said you need a ride home,” Jason said.

  “Is that okay? Because I could probably find another ride,” I said.

  “No problem. Makes sense. We’re going to the same place.”

  I knew guys who exhibited more enthusiasm while waiting in the dentist’s office. Could I feel more like a burden?

  While chairs were being shoved back and guys were leaving, I’d been talking to Mac about cheap things to do in town, since we’d run the gamut of free things.

  “Thanks for the tips,” Mac said, grinning.

  “Sure.”

  With my tote bag slung over my shoulder, I followed Jason out to his car, a black Honda Civic. He beeped his key chain to unlock the doors, and I climbed in. It was early evening, the shadows had begun lengthening, and the car wasn’t too unbearably hot. He had cloth seats, which were great, since I was wearing shorts. Mom’s Lexus has leather seats, and I’ve burned myself more than once before the “cooling seats” feature kicks in. That’s right. Her seats were actually air-conditioned, a skin saver in north Texas.

  “So, do you know the way?” I asked, as Jason pulled into traffic.

  “Think so. This street will take me to Haddock. A right on Haddock will take me to Leigh. Your street, right?”

  “You got it,” I said.

  He glanced my way really quickly, before turning his attention back to the road. “I was surprised to see you at practice.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m all about baseball.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Bird and I haven’t missed a Rattler practice or game since the town got the team.”

  “I’ve never known a girl who was that into baseball.”

  “Well, now you do.”

  Tell your friends. Step right up. Meet the most amazing girl you’ve ever known.

  “Your dad’s great,” Jason said, in what seemed like an abrupt change of subject.

  “Yeah, I like him,” I said.

  Jason laughed. A deep rumble that just sorta rolled through the car, rolled over me, made me smile.

  Also made me brave. If I wanted him to talk about me to the guys, I needed to give him some ammunition. I needed to do something that would make me a worthy topic of conversation. A little more alone time was needed, and since I’d gone several hours without an ice-cream fix, I pointed toward my favorite ice-cream shop. “Want to stop at Ben and Jerry’s? I’ll treat.”

  Five minutes later, we were sitting in a booth, each of us with a double-scoop cone. Jason was eating Cherry Garcia, and I was eating my all time fave, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. The scoop shop was also my source for lip balm.

  “Speaking of my dad,” I said, “Cherry Garcia is his favorite, too.”

  Jason looked at me with those blue, blue eyes. He’d raised his sunglasses so they sat on top of his head. “I hope I didn’t sound weird, saying what I did about him.”

  I shook my head. “I know he’s great. I live with him.”

  He leaned forward a little bit, resting one forearm on the table, like he needed it for support. “It’s just that last night…I felt like I was playing pitch with my dad. I’ve never done that before.”

  “You’ve never played pitch with your dad?” I asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of my voice. I’d played pitch with my dad since my hand was big enough to curl around a ball.

  Jason really concentrated on his ice cream. “My dad was never around when I was growing up.”

  “Never?”

  I couldn’t imagine anything more awful. My dad was an incredibly important part of my life.

  And why had I suddenly turned into a question repeater? I sounded like some sort of game-show host trying to make sure the contestant understood the question. As a reporter-wannabe, I needed to learn to initiate the questions.

  Jason shook his head. “Nope, he took off when I was a kid, after brother number three was born. It’s always just been us and Mom.”

  “Are all your brothers younger?”

  “Yeah, two are twins, a year younger than me, then my third brother is a year younger than them.”

  “That had to be hard growing up.”

  He shrugged. “Never knew any different, really. Mom was there, Dad wasn’t. She used to play pitch with me. I always thought that was cool.”

  “That is cool. That she made time for you like that.”

  “Yeah.”

  He concentrated on eating his ice cream, and I wondered if he was thinking about his mom. I couldn’t imagine being away from my parents through the summer.

  “Why number eleven?” I asked, to fill the silence. In baseball, jersey numbers weren’t assigned according to positions. Players could select the number they wanted. “Is it special or random?”

  He glanced up. “Nothing too significant, really. I was eleven when I started playing ball, so I asked to hav