The Boyfriend League Read online

He grinned. “Yeah.”

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” I said, taking the bag from him and removing a whole pint of ice cream and the plastic spoon.

  He sat beside me, and his portion of the love seat rocked. “The other night you said movies were your thing, so I made a quick stop by Blockbuster, too, and got a couple. Don’t know if you’re interested….”

  “That was so sweet of you,” I said, deeply touched.

  “I got conked on the head once, had to stay awake for a few hours…it was pretty boring. An aching head makes it hard to concentrate on anything important.”

  “So what did you get?”

  “Fever Pitch—”

  “A chick flick?” I asked, astounded.

  “It’s got baseball. Then The Princess Bride. It’s one of my faves.”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Isn’t it, like, old?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a classic.”

  I wrinkled my brow, which made my forehead hurt. “Isn’t it a chick flick, too?”

  “It’s got pirates and sword fights.”

  “Let’s watch it, then. I think I’ve had enough baseball for one night.” Words I never thought I’d speak.

  “I didn’t even think to ask if you had a DVD player.”

  “Does a bear growl in the woods? It’s on the shelf above the TiVo.”

  Eating my ice cream—oh, it tasted good!—I watched as he walked to the shelf and put the DVD into the player. He’d made it sound like the stops were on his way home. They weren’t. Between Bird’s house and mine was nothing except other houses. He’d made special trips to get the ice cream and movies.

  “Where’s the remote for the DVD player?” he asked.

  I stuck the spoon in the carton, grabbed the remote, and held it up. “Dad has a universal remote. This controls everything.”

  “Your dad is into gadgets.”

  “Oh, you bet.”

  He returned to the love seat, sat down, took the remote, directed it at the TV, but didn’t push any buttons. Then he leaned forward, planted his elbows on his thighs, and studied the controls. I thought I might have to explain them.

  “What did you think of the little bit of the game you saw?” he asked, his voice low.

  “I didn’t really see much of it. I was working in the concession stand until the bottom of the fourth.”

  “Not my best inning. I let them get some hits, score two runs—”

  “You know, there’s no I in team.”

  He chuckled low, looked over his shoulder at me. “Who are you? Leon?”

  I knew he was referring to a commercial featuring a football player named Leon. I’d seen enough of the commercials watching football with Dad.

  “I’m just saying, baseball is a team sport.”

  “Not as much as some.” He shrugged. “I don’t mean to be a downer. I just hate having a bad night.”

  “Trust me. Your night wasn’t as bad as mine.”

  “I guess it wasn’t.” He winked at me. “But it’s about to get a lot better.”

  He settled back, raised the footrest, and clicked the remote. Funny thing was, I’d felt like my night had gotten a lot better simply because he’d walked into the room.

  Chapter 11

  Late the next morning I woke up with a thundering in my head that had nothing to do with the hit I took the night before. It was raining. Storming, actually. The kind of downpour that, if it continued throughout the day, would have the local meteorologists interrupting regularly scheduled programming to warn about area flash flooding.

  Also, if it continued, the Rattlers wouldn’t play tonight.

  In frustration, I pulled my pillow out from beneath my head and dropped it on my face, regretting it as soon as the pressure shot pain across my skull. How could I forget about my—wound didn’t sound right—my traumatized forehead?

  I got out of bed, walked to the dresser, and peered into the mirror. Ohmigod! I had a black eye! An honest-to-gosh black eye!

  The door connecting my room to the bathroom opened, and Tiffany walked in. “You okay? I thought I heard you squeal, and Mom told me to keep an eye…omigod!”

  She approached cautiously, like maybe she thought black eyes were contagious. “Mom told me you got hit by a ball last night, but I didn’t think it would be that nasty looking. Does it hurt?”

  “It’s tender,” I admitted.

  “I have some makeup that will cover it right up. No one will know.”

  “Maybe I want people to know. Maybe I see it as a badge of honor.”

  “Please. It looks like the first stage of turning into a zombie.”

  It may seem strange, because of her whole attitude toward orphans, but Miss Teen Ragland was a big fan of horror movies. Last year for Christmas, I’d given her a zombie survival guide, which she’d thought was hilarious.

  I don’t think she would have enjoyed watching The Princess Bride with Jason last night. Correction: She might not have enjoyed the movie, but she would have enjoyed being with him. Even though he’d seen the movie before, it still made him laugh, and he had such a great laugh. In spite of it making my head hurt worse, I’d found myself laughing with him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed watching a movie so much. Not the actual movie, just the act of watching it with someone else.

  I turned away from the mirror.

  “That is really hideous,” Tiffany said, stepping back.

  “Thanks, Tiff. Your attitude will help me go out into the world with confidence.”

  I sat on my bed and put my pillow behind my back. Maybe I’d just spend the day listening to the rain. Or maybe I’d work on my column, but change the focus to the dangers of being hit by a foul ball. Speaking of the foul ball…it was on my nightstand. I picked it up and began studying the autographs.

  “Do you want me to fix you some lunch or something? I could call Jason and have him bring you some takeout when he gets off from work.”

  I looked at my alarm clock. It was almost one. I couldn’t believe I’d slept so late, but between staying up to watch the movies and the rain…

  Then I realized what Tiffany had said. “Calling for takeout is not fixing someone something to eat.”

  “According to Mom it is.”

  Too true.

  “So Jason’s at work already?”

  “Yep.”

  I started tossing the ball back and forth, between one hand and the other. Jason had to be exhausted, although he’d fallen asleep on the love seat during Fever Pitch. I don’t think that actually counted as his sleeping with me, though.

  I’d ended up watching him more than I’d watched the movie. I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d found him so intriguing, or why I took such pleasure in just looking at him. It was much easier to do when he wasn’t awake and looking at me, too. Giving him a hottie score of six continued to haunt me. Maybe I’d give him a special score: ten point five. Just for being so considerate last night.

  I looked up. Tiffany was hovering.

  I waved my hand at her. “Go on. I’m fine. I can order my own takeout.”

  “You know, the real problem is going to come in a few days when it begins yellowing. Then it’ll seriously clash with your reddish hair.”

  Only Tiffany would worry about properly accessorizing a black eye.

  “But it’ll go great with my eyes,” I said. “Because yellow and green go together.”

  “Mmm. Might work. Still, come see me if you want it to go away.”

  And what was she going to do? Wave a magic wand?

  “That thing could seriously affect your boyfriend plans,” Bird said later when she stopped by to check out my shiner.

  “Cheer me up, why don’t you?”

  “Sorry. I’m just saying…it’s not what I’d call attractive.”

  “Whatever. It’s not permanent. So tell me about the kiss.”

  She was sitting on my bed, totally loose, legs folded beneath her, sh