But there are practical matters to attend to. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, head straight for my bureau, and pull on a pair of fresh underwear then a T-shirt and my jeans.
By the time I’m done, Holden is fully dressed too. He turns to me with intense contrition on his face and sets his hands on my shoulders. “I want to see you again. I need to see you again. Will you give me your number?”
“Of course.”
He types my number into his phone then sends me a text so I’ll have his. I don’t look at it yet though.
“Holden,” I say, lifting my chin, tearing off the Band-Aid. “The thing I started to tell you?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m a virgin.”
6
Holden
That was not what I thought she’d say.
It takes me a few seconds to process that information, to reroute my thoughts. But in that time, everything clicks into place.
The I’ve never.
The flashes of innocence and the flickers of shyness, chased by longing, followed by lust.
The way she responded like everything was new to her.
What a gift. What an absolute gift.
I’d be lying if I said her virginity doesn’t turn me on.
Oh hell, does it ever.
And I need to tell her that, but not so she thinks I have a virgin fetish. Because that’s weird.
I step closer and place a kiss on her soft lips. Then I pull back, holding her gaze, my voice intensely serious. “That is a complete gift, and I want to be your first. I’d be honored, Reese.”
A smile comes my way, then a sigh that stretches across the state, one of pure relief.
“You do?”
There she is. All innocence again.
I clasp her shoulders. “I absolutely do. I told you I don’t do hookups. You don’t feel like one. We don’t feel like one. Sex isn’t a game to me. I’m so drawn to you—all of you—and I want to explore everything with you.”
She grins with excitement, with possibility. “You’re turning me on even more now.”
“Goes both ways, beautiful,” I say. “And we’re going to see each other again. I don’t know when, because I’m heading to Texas, then Florida, then Georgia. But we’ll make a plan, okay?”
She nibbles on the corner of her lip. “It’s a deal.”
“Hold me to it.”
“I will. I definitely will. I absolutely will,” she says, imitating me again from my email. “See, I can’t stop talking in threes now.”
I cup her chin, dragging a finger across it. “Sassy, and I like it.”
She stands on tiptoe, drops a kiss onto my lips, then gestures to the door. “Be on your way.”
I leave, emotions warring in me. On the one hand, I feel like I struck gold with her. On the other hand, I feel like I’m a kid and I just lost my favorite book, the dog-eared dragon adventure tale I carried with me everywhere as a grade-schooler.
I stop at the hotel to grab my bag. At the airport, I check the text I sent Reese when I was at her place—the one that said I can’t wait to see you again—and smile at her reply.
* * *
Reese: I’m already replaying today. And tonight too.
* * *
Holden: Same here. Let’s make more replays very soon.
* * *
After settling into my seat, I grab a book of puzzles from my backpack, crack open the word scramble, and get to work on six-letter words, breaking them down into a range of solutions.
Word games are good for the brain, and baseball is as much a mental exercise as a physical one.
But as I work through combos, my thoughts keep returning to Reese.
To the delicious, alluring word she shared with me.
Virgin.
I run through a scramble of it in my head, but I keep returning to that word.
Twenty-two and still a virgin. And she wanted me. She still wants me.
I want her too, with an insistent ferocity, one I didn’t expect when I started the day. It digs into my heart and sets up camp in my brain.
In Texas, we play a killer series against the Scoundrels, and I have a handful of killer nights as Reese and I exchange texts at all hours.
Texts that turn me on.
That make me smile.
That make me hope.
Then comes the night when she sends a note that knocks the breath straight out of me, but in the worst way.
* * *
Reese: Hi. I wish I weren’t saying this, but I’m also excited to tell you something amazing. Which means this note contains both good news and bad news. I got a job offer with a great international organization that’s focused on teaching all sorts of skills to girls, both in the US and abroad, as part of its focus on gender equality. It wasn’t even on my radar, but this organization heard the interview I did with you and listened to some of my others. They offered me an internship to teach media skills, like podcasting and sound editing, to teenage girls in South America, since I speak Spanish. This is everything I’ve wanted to do, and I’m going to be traveling to various countries there. I’m leaving in a week. I’ll miss picking up where we left off, and I’ll definitely miss our second date and the chance to get to know you more.
* * *
In my hotel room after a game, my heart sinks and fills at the same time.
I’m thrilled for her.
And I’m bummed for us.
* * *
Holden: I’m so happy for you. That’s tremendous, and you’re going to do so much good. I bet you’ll love it.
* * *
That’s the truth. I am happy for Reese, even as she fades from my life. She has to. She’s going to be roaming around in another hemisphere, through small towns with barely any cell service. And I’m trying to make a name for myself in the major leagues.
That’s what I vow to do, focusing on the game more and more, and wondering less and less what would have happened if we’d met at a different time.
But we didn’t. We met at this time. This is how it played out, and no amount of wondering would change that.
Interlude
Three Months Later
7
Holden
It’s one of those rare days in Seattle when the roof isn’t covering the stadium.
No rain—just a clear night sky.
Two men are on. Two men are out. We’re behind by one. It’s the top of the ninth.
Xavier Munoz, the Seattle Storm Chasers’ closer, paces the pitcher’s mound, then stops on the rubber. He tugs on the bill of his cap while he stares at the catcher behind me for the pitch signal.
Xavier throws fastballs 99 percent of the time. The challenge is whether it’s a cut fastball or a sinker, a wicked pitch that drops once it’s over the plate. Our center fielder once said hitting a Munoz sinker is about as tricky as slicing a log while it’s falling from the sky—chances are good that your ax will be kissing air.