The Boyfriend League by Rachel Hawthorne Read Free Book Online Page A

hand dryer and bent down slightly, so the air would hit my shirt. I wasn’t too tall, wasn’t too short—like the little bear, I was just right. Medium height. Nothing special, nothingto really make people take notice.
    The dryer stopped, and I hit the button again.
    By the time I was finished, Jason was no longer sitting in the shop. I found him outside, leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses in place so I couldn’t read his expression. My tote bag was resting at his feet. Reaching down, he picked it up. “You left your bag on the bench. It fell over. Some stuff spilled onto the floor, but I think I got it all.”
    â€œThanks.” I took it from him, noticing that the roster was sticking out. My stomach dropped to the ground. Had he seen the scores? Not unless he unfolded it.
    â€œI can’t believe how much stuff girls carry around,” he said, totally relaxed, as though he wasn’t offended, as though he had no idea that Bird and I had been scoring the guys.
    Thank goodness.
    â€œWe’d better go,” he said.
    Yeah, we better, before something as innocent as stopping for ice cream turns into a disaster.
    Â 
    â€œHey, Jason,” Tiffany said as he and I walked through the door, like she’d been waiting for his arrival.
    Jason actually blushed, which I thought was cute. I wasn’t sure I’d ever known a guy who was so easily embarrassed by attention.
    â€œI’m thinking of going to a movie,” she said, before we could move past her. “Want to come?”
    It was obvious she wasn’t including me in that invitation—her gaze was riveted on Jason’s face.
    â€œThanks, but I’m beat,” Jason said. “Practice wore me out. Think I’m going to shower and crash.”
    â€œMaybe another time,” she said.
    â€œYeah, sure, I’d like that.”
    He would? Was it just going to the movie he liked, or did he mean he’d like going with her?
    Tiffany watched him head for the stairs like he was her favorite flavor of ice cream. Had she forgotten Mom’s rule—no dating the houseguest?
    Then she turned to me as though justnoticing I was there. “Ed Morton called.”
    â€œThe team manager?” I asked.
    â€œYep, he wants you to call him back.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m not your secretary.”
    Without another word, she hurried up the stairs. I hoped Jason had locked the bathroom door. Knowing Tiffany, she was hoping for an “accidental” locker room preview.
    Oops, sorry! Thought this was my bathroom. I’m always confusing the left side of the hallway with the right. Silly me.
    I walked into the kitchen where Mom was putting the last of the takeout cartons into the trash. Looked like tonight had been Italian.
    â€œHey, hon, how was the pizza?”
    It suddenly occurred to me Mom had the habit of asking questions that really had no interesting answers. I shrugged. “Great.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œWhere’s Dad?”
    She tipped her head toward the door that led to the backyard. “Where do you think?”
    I went outside. Dad was sitting on a cushiony chair on the redwood deck, sketch pad inhand, no doubt designing a backyard sports project for a new customer.
    â€œHey, baby,” he said as I sat beside him.
    â€œDad, could you not call me baby?”
    He finally looked up from his sketch pad. “Sorry. Guess my little girl’s growing up.”
    I grimaced. “Or little girl?”
    He gave me a look that said he knew exactly why I didn’t want to be called childish endearments, when I figured he really didn’t know at all. What college guy would be interested in a kid? Besides, I was going to be a senior. It was time my parents saw me as I was.
    â€œWant to play a little catch?” he asked.
    â€œNo, thanks, Dad. Not tonight. I was just wondering if you knew why