Read For the Win (Playing for Keeps Book 1) for Free Online Page B

While reading over Cooper’s responses, I pictured his face, how it lit up whenever he talked about baseball. Surprisingly, he had almost the same expression when he talked about his grandparents. Rarely did I meet guys like that, and it confused me.
    It was like Cooper had a split personality or something. On the one hand he was a doting grandson, passionate about baseball. I knew from the research I’d done that he got straight A’s in school too. That Cooper, the one that I felt drawn too while interviewing, was straight laced, the perfect student and all around good guy. But the other side of Cooper was the one I’d been familiar with all throughout high school. He was arrogant and rude, a flirt, a player, a partier. I may not have been Calista’s biggest fan, but I was still disgusted by how easily he dismissed her at both practice and the game. Clearly they had some kind of relationship by the way she was acting, and it bothered me that he brushed it off as nothing.
    It was hard for me to reconcile these two sides of Cooper. That’s why I stuck to the subject of baseball in the article and didn’t allow my personal feelings to interfere. I wasn’t sure who Cooper truly was, but when he spoke of baseball I felt like he seemed authentic and real, so that’s how I portrayed him. I didn’t mention his grandparents, but I did add in what he told me about his mom saying that he was born with a baseball in his hand. I thought it added a nice touch.
    My handwriting was so atrocious there were a few words I had to read repeatedly before understanding what it said. As I snatched up the article and stood, I wished for the umpteenth time that we had a computer here. We used to have an old desktop, but it crashed last year and we’d yet to purchase a new one. Dad was out running errands, so I’d have to ride my bike to the library to type up the article. Stretching, I let out a yawn. My bed was calling to me, but I shook away the thoughts. Why was I so damn tired lately? I thought about how the flu was going around at school, and I silently prayed I wouldn’t get it. I made a mental note to take some vitamin C later, as I headed outside.
    The air was even warmer than it was this morning, and I was already wiping sweat off my forehead when I jumped on my bike and pedaled down my driveway. By the time I reached the street, I was grateful that Skyler hadn’t spotted me. If she had, she’d offer for me to use her computer. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it, but it was so loud at Skyler’s house. Her brothers were rowdy, and her parents were talkative. I was used to quiet, so it was all a little much for me.
    I rounded the corner and guided my bike up on the sidewalk. Pedaling swiftly, I passed a man watering his grass and a group of kids playing in their front yard. A woman that I assumed was their mom sat on the front porch, a magazine spread over her lap. My heart pinched at the scene. I remembered my mom sitting on the porch watching me play when I was younger. She had the best smile. My dad used to say that it wasn’t just her lips that smiled, it was her whole face. I’d never met anyone else filled with such genuine joy and kindness. In the end, it was her undoing.
    And that’s why I was so guarded, careful to never be too friendly, too trusting. Skyler often told me I had “resting bitch face,” and I think she meant it as a criticism. But I took it as a compliment. That “resting bitch face” was my defense mechanism. If only my mom had used it, maybe she’d still be here.
    Shaking away the thoughts, I took a deep breath and pedaled harder. Thoughts like this weren’t helping. No amount of wishing could bring her back. If it could, she would have returned years ago. I can’t tell you how many nights I lie in bed after she left us, prayers for her return tumbling from my lips. The words lingered in the air, desperate wishes scrawled in invisible ink. I prayed they would reach her and yank her back to