4. Maggie

Olivia was waiting for me at our usual table when I walked into Burt's later that evening. For the past three years, Burt's had been our Opening Day routine. It was a run-down diner that had the best food in Chicago, but it was a well-kept secret. Every year at some point during the last few days leading up to Opening Day, we ordered the greasiest items on the menu and shoved them in our faces before our lives weren't ours anymore. It was the second-best day of the year.

"Find it?"

"The guys picked it up for me," I told her as I slid into the sticky vinyl booth. The vinyl was cracking and it caught on my jeans.

I was sure that there were far better places in town to celebrate the beginning of the next baseball season, but Burt's would always be home to us. Diane, our favorite waitress, always saved the best slice of chocolate cake for Olivia and me on the days we frequented the restaurant. Our cups were never empty, and our stomachs often felt like they'd burst at the seams when we left.

Olivia slid my usual coffee across the table to me, followed by a plate of french toast piled so high that I was sure I wouldn't be eating for the rest of the day. Burt's had become one of the few places in town that didn't remind me of my old life. It was purely something new that Olivia and I had discovered. I didn't feel cold sweats when I walked through the door. I wasn't nervous to run into any of my old friends from college. It was a safe haven for me.

As I was halfway through the monstrosity in front of me, Olivia caught my eye over her cup of coffee. The look on her face told me I was not going to like what she was about to say. It was a look I'd come to know well whenever she was planning on pushing me out of my comfort zone.

"What if we went tonight?" My fork stilled halfway to my mouth. She wasn't asking what I thought she would be asking. Of all the things that I thought would come out of Olivia's mouth, that was at the bottom of the list.

"We always watch Pretty Woman after Burt's."

"What if we didn't?" Olivia looked at me with her signature puppy-dog eyes.

I started to shake my head, putting my foot down about this one tradition. Olivia probably thought this was the perfect opportunity to get me out of my apartment, but there were just some things I wouldn't give up, and watching Richard Gere fall in love with Julia Roberts was one of them. But Olivia continued to give me those stupid puppy-dog eyes, and I knew I was a goner.

Those puppy-dog eyes were the exact reason why I found myself in a dress at a nightclub and not on my couch with my favorite blanket while watching Pretty Woman. I wasn't the only one that wasn't comfortable with the club environment. Olivia's sister, Charlotte (or "Lottie"), joined us tonight. Olivia had gone on during the car ride about how Lottie needed a night away from her clinic. Lottie was the best sports physical therapist in the city of Chicago and worked at a private practice where she spent practically all of her time. She was ambitious, with the goal of joining the staff of one of the professional teams in Chicago, and worked exhaustingly to try to achieve that goal.

The three of us scanned the crowd, looking for the VIP section where Jamil had told us they'd be. The club was all of the things I hated: loud, crowded, and poorly lit. It was more packed than a stadium during the World Series, the music was reverberating through what felt like my very soul, and I had the urge to pull out my phone to use the flashlight just so I could make it through the dance floor without falling over some poor guy passed out on the ground. And all of those very reasons were why Olivia would be having the time of her life by the end of the night and I would be counting down the minutes until I was safely under the covers in my bed.

Olivia pulled her sister and me in between bodies and around couples displaying a little too much affection on the dance floor before we finally ended up at a roped-off section that was elevated from the rest of the club. I spotted Jamil holding court with some of the younger players. Most of the married guys were nowhere to be found, probably at home with their families. I found myself jealous of them as Olivia gave the bouncer our names and he unclipped the rope to let us in. Jamil noticed us a few seconds later and excitedly motioned for us to come over.

"Are my eyes fooling me, or is Canon bestowing us with her presence on a night out?"

I rolled my eyes at him before letting him wrap me up in one of his massive bear hugs.

"It's all Olivia's fault," I mumbled into his ear.

"Sounds like Olivia deserves a drink on me," Jamil exclaimed as he turned to embrace my best friend. Olivia loved Jamil as much as I did. The two were like twins, and I was sure there would be disastrous consequences from them partying together tonight.

Jamil set Olivia down. "And who is this?"

"This is my sister, Lottie." Olivia introduced her sister to the group.

"Your sister?" Jamil reached out to give the back of Lottie's hand a kiss. Lottie's eyebrows shot up toward her hairline, not yet used to Jamil's antics.

A chorus of hellos echoed around the rest of the group. Lottie gave them all a wave before finding an open spot on the couches. She immediately pulled her phone out and began typing away on yet another work email. She had been practically glued to her phone the entire car ride over.

Jamil and Olivia disappeared to the bar, leaving me standing by myself in the entrance of the VIP section with guys from the team I was not familiar with. At the stadium, I knew my place and felt confident in it. Outside the stadium, I felt like a foreigner. I glanced around the seating area, hoping to find somewhere I could sit and immediately blend into the couch.

"Hey."

My eyes snapped over to see Tommy sitting on one of the couches with an empty spot right next to him. So much for trying to avoid him for my own sanity.

If I thought he was gorgeous in his practice uniform, he was beyond sexy in a short-sleeve white button-down that had most of the buttons undone, revealing that the tattoos on his arms weren't the only ones he had, and a pair of black pants that were rolled up at the bottom. His dark hair was tousled in a way that only guys could pull off—perfectly imperfect. I stared at him for a few moments, trying to weigh my options before I decided that the open seat next to him was more appealing than fighting back through the crowd of people to find Olivia and Jamil.

"Hi," I finally replied as I sat down.

Tommy's arms were stretched out over the back of the couch, his body turned so he could keep an eye on the rest of the guys in the VIP section. His eyes danced over to them, watching as they talked with each other. There was a glass of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him, but it looked like it hadn't been touched.

"I thought Jamil said you don't normally come to these." Tommy looked over at me to assess the black dress I had had to pull from the back of my closet for tonight. The last time I had worn it was in college, which was probably also the last time I was any fun. Every place his eyes roamed over my body felt like they had been lit on fire. It felt like he was taking his time as he drank me in from head to toe. I wanted to preen from the attention, but then my brain remembered those pictures of Tommy leaving the club. A small part of me screamed to remember his reputation and to stop swooning.

"I don't."

"But you're here," he noted, his eyes returning to look at his teammates.

"I am."

Tommy didn't respond, thankfully, and it gave me the perfect opportunity to study my surroundings. But mostly him. I noted his glass of whiskey and saw that condensation had started on the outside, confirming my suspicions that it hadn't been drunk yet. My eyes drifted to the rest of the guys around us. Some of them were talking among themselves, but most of them had found a girl that they were in deep conversation with. If someone were to ask me what I thought this very scenario would look like tonight, Tommy Mikals being one of the few guys who wasn't drunk and wasn't talking to a girl would not have been on my bingo card.

"You said earlier that this isn't your scene."

I froze when I realized Tommy was talking to me again and had probably caught the fact that I was staring at him.

Smooth, I told myself.

"So what is?"

"What's my scene?" I asked, watching him dip his chin slightly in a nod of confirmation. "A night in with a bottle of wine, a good romantic comedy, maybe a pint of ice cream, and my skin care routine. This"—I waved my hands at the scene around us—"hasn't been my thing since college."

"So what got you here tonight?"

Everything about Tommy seemed put together. He paused before every time he spoke, like he actually thought about what he wanted to say. His words were sure, and his gaze was even as he looked at me. It was utterly intimidating because I was anything but put together. My brain never felt like it could expertly navigate through a conversation with a new person. I also avoided making eye contact with people, mostly because I didn't want them to see the parts of me that weren't whole anymore. Everything about Tommy scared the hell out of me.

"Olivia." I motioned toward my best friend who was leaning against the bar, laughing with Jamil as they waited for drinks.

Tommy didn't follow my hand motion though. He just kept his eyes focused on mine. He was giving me his undivided attention. I could feel those damn butterflies soaring back around inside me. Desperate to take my mind off the way my heart felt like it was squeezing with emotion, I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. "She's the extrovert, and I'm most definitely the introvert of our friendship. She's like the yin to my yang or the splish to my splash."

Right after those words escaped my lips, I wanted to stuff them back in. I wasn't sure what it was about me making a fool of myself in front of Tommy today, but I was officially two-for-two. I guess if there were any place to die from embarrassment, a club I never wanted to be in wearing a dress I didn't want to wear would be perfect. Tommy just continued to stare at me for another few painful seconds before a smile broke out across his face.

"You're funny, you know that?"

The smile stayed on Tommy's face, which gave him a boyish look that softened his hard edges.

Dammit. Why does he have to be so goddamn attractive?

My mind flashed back to those articles about him leaving clubs with models on his arm. I knew that I would be the last girl that he would pick out in a club like this to leave with him in front of all the paparazzi waiting to get the perfect picture to smack across every news outlet the next day.

"People don't normally call me funny," I told him, torn between wanting to stare at him and admire the lines of his face or avoid making eye contact with him because it seemed like he had the same thought about studying me.

"Maybe you don't hang around the right people."

It took everything in me not to let my mouth drop open in surprise at Tommy's response. Was he actually voicing that he thought I was interesting? Earlier today, it felt like that was all in my head. But I was sitting next to him on this couch in a bar full of women who were much more attractive than I was, and still he was choosing to give me all of his focus.

I thought about the photos of Tommy stumbling out of bars looking bleary-eyed and greasy like he had consumed way too much alcohol, and tried to reconcile that with the sober guy who was talking with me like I was the most important person in the room. The guy who didn't know who he was when he left bars at three in the morning was the type of guy I'd never be caught dead with. I finally braved the idea of making eye contact with him again, only to see him staring directly at my lips. I cursed the way my mouth went instantly dry and the way my legs felt like they would give out beneath me if I tried to escape.

Luckily, I was saved by Jamil and Olivia coming back into the VIP section with their arms loaded down with beverages. Both of their personalities seemed like they could fill up the entire space from the way they laughed with each other, and that energy was a thankful distraction from Tommy's intense stare. Jamil collapsed back into his seat and pulled Olivia down next to him as they continued their conversation. Lottie had finally gotten off her phone and was busy describing different routines some of the rookies should implement in their pregame warmups to help with their arm health.

Great. There go my lifelines in this club.

Whenever we went out, I relied on Olivia to introduce me to the other people she so easily befriended. She always made sure to insert me into the conversation to help me feel included because she knew that if I was left to my own devices, I would slink back to a dark corner of the room and avoid conversing with any humans the entire time. And on nights like tonight when Olivia decided it was her time, my inability to socialize was forgotten.

It felt like the walls of the club were closing in on me the second I realized that I was on my own. The dress I was wearing began to feel too tight, and the music started to feel like it was pressing on every part of my head. My eyes searched for an exit that didn't include me shoving my way back through the dance floor, but I struck out.

"Need to leave?" I jumped when I realized that Tommy's mouth was inches from my ear.

He must have shifted closer to me during my mental breakdown. His breath tickled the inside of my ear and sent shivers down my spine. A traitorous thought of his lips brushing against the skin behind my ear flashed in my mind. Goose bumps spread across my skin as I imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him. Judging by the way that Tommy did everything else in life, I was sure kissing him would be all-consuming. My skin burned hot enough to finally make me realize that I was dreaming in a room full of people with the main character of my dream sitting right next to me. I blinked a few times, trying to clear that image away before it became obvious that I was thinking about something I shouldn't be.

"Uh . . ." I shifted between glancing at Tommy and back toward the club's entrance, debating if I could fight my way through the horde of people on my own. Part of me knew that if he was offering to help me get out of here and I took it, I would then be that girl that left the bar with Tommy Mikals.

"Come on." The next thing I knew, his hand was wrapped around mine and he was pulling me toward the dance floor. Olivia didn't even bother to look in my direction as I tried desperately to grab her attention. She was too wrapped up in the conversation she was having with Jamil. Tommy put himself firmly in front of me as he carved a path through the sea of bodies. It was like watching Moses part the Red Sea. I was sure that no one could actually tell who he was, but the way he carried himself demanded that people move out of his way. Before I knew it, we had emerged from the mosh pit unscathed and out into the cool spring Chicago air.

"Thank you," I told him as I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call for an Uber. Olivia had driven me to the club, and there was no way I was getting on the L this late at night. A homeless man kept trying to touch my hair the last time I found myself on the train after midnight.

"Need a ride?" I glanced up to see Tommy still standing next to me, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His shoulders were bunched up near his ears to help fight off the slight chill in the air. He had definitely dressed for the heat of the nightclub and not spring Chicago weather.

"You didn't bring a coat?" I asked him, Uber forgotten, as I pulled on my own jacket.

"I never wear a coat when I go out."

"You never wear a coat when you go out?" I repeated, my voice climbing a couple of octaves. "You do know you moved to Chicago, right?"

"Oh, I hadn't realized." Tommy turned around in a circle. "The hot dog stands on every other corner and the fact that anytime anyone runs into me they say ‘ope' definitely didn't give that one away."

I stood there, my mouth hanging open at his sharp comeback. There was a playful glint to his eyes as he watched me struggle to figure out a response. Playful banter was definitely not on the list of things I imagined him to be good at. I would have placed my money on him firing off a rude response. It took me so much by surprise that I remained there in front of him opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. Tommy, thankfully, saved me from the further embarrassment of being dumbstruck by him.

"Do you want a ride?" he repeated.

It was telling enough that I was seriously debating risking having some homeless man try to braid my hair versus getting in a car with Tommy Mikals. But I realized that my capacity for public spaces had been met for the day, so I found myself nodding at Tommy's offer.

"I'm just around the corner." Tommy's hand went to my lower back as he steered me around the side of the building toward the parking lot behind the club. I hated myself for actually liking the feel of his hand pressed into the back of my jacket. It felt strong, secure. Like if someone were to jump us in the alleyway right now, I'd probably live to tell the tale.

"Tommy!" Maybe I had thought too soon about someone jumping us in the alleyway. A flash went off, and I barely had time to cover my face before I was blinded.

Ohshit.

I heard Tommy curse a much worse word under his breath before that hand on my back started to apply a little more pressure to quicken our pace. The lights on a car ahead of us started to flash as he hit the unlock button on his key fob about a hundred times. I glanced over my shoulder to see a man with a camera coming after us. A part of me wanted to tell him that there were so many better ways to use his photography skills than taking photos of celebrities, but then reality hit me.

That photo.

If it hit the news outlets tomorrow, the optics would probably look less than stellar. An innocent situation would look more like any other picture of Tommy leaving a nightclub than what was really going on. I would be lumped in with the rest of Tommy Mikals's one-night stands, and I'd probably find myself in May's office with my job on the line as soon as I stepped into the stadium. There was a strict no-fraternization clause in my contract that, if broken, would be grounds for immediate termination.

Wonderful.

Tommy pulled my door open, keeping his body between me and the paparazzo before he hurried around the car to the driver's side. I kept my hand firmly in front of my face as the guy continued to take pictures of us through the front window of Tommy's car. Luckily, he gave us enough room to leave the parking lot without hitting him.

"That was . . ."

"I'm sorry you had to experience that," Tommy interrupted me. "I didn't think there'd be any paparazzi out tonight."

I just nodded, because honestly, what was I supposed to say to that? Never before in my life did I have to worry about whether or not someone would be waiting to take my picture while I was out having a good time. Tommy's hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as he pulled out onto Lake Shore Drive, his knuckles going white. We drove in silence for a moment before he let out a breath.

"Where to?" he asked me after the tension slowly dissipated from the car. I rattled off the directions to get to my apartment before letting the car go quiet again. Tommy's eyes were fixed on the road in front of us. The way he drove the car was exactly like how he moved on the baseball field—confident. After a moment, his eyes slowly looked back over toward me.

"So how'd you get to be a photographer for the Cougars?" He was clearly trying to make an effort at conversation, but the last thing I wanted to do was fight through a normal conversation with the guy I had imagined making out with. Especially while I was wondering if I'd have a job in the morning.

"That's a long story," I told him, watching as Lake Michigan went by in a blur of streetlamps and black water outside my window.

"I'd like to hear it."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise at his comment, but I kept my gaze firmly out the window as Tommy pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building. My entire experience with Tommy was the opposite of what I'd pictured him to be. He had barely drunk anything, had no women falling over him, and he seemed genuinely interested in me. A nobody. All of those things were dangerous. They canceled out every reason I had firmly placed him in the no pile. If none of those reasons were true, then I was in serious trouble. There was no practical reason to deny the way my body seemed to react around him.

"I don't want to tell it." I opened the door and stepped out. "Thanks for the ride."

I didn't bother to see Tommy's reaction. My mind was firmly worried about the fact that I might be out of a job by tomorrow morning thanks to a guy with a camera. Kind of poetic.