Read The Boyfriend League for Free Online Page B

his head. “I hope I didn’t sound weird, saying what I did about him.”
    I shook my head. “I know he’s great. I live with him.”
    He leaned forward a little bit, resting one forearm on the table, like he needed it for support. “It’s just that last night…I felt like I was playing pitch with my dad. I’ve never done that before.”
    â€œYou’ve never played pitch with your dad?” I asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of my voice. I’d played pitch with my dad since my hand was big enough to curl around a ball.
    Jason really concentrated on his ice cream. “My dad was never around when I was growing up.”
    â€œNever?”
    I couldn’t imagine anything more awful. My dad was an incredibly important part of my life.
    And why had I suddenly turned into a question repeater? I sounded like some sort of game-show host trying to make sure the contestant understood the question. As a reporter-wannabe, I needed to learn to initiate the questions.
    Jason shook his head. “Nope, he took off when I was a kid, after brother number three was born. It’s always just been us and Mom.”
    â€œAre all your brothers younger?”
    â€œYeah, two are twins, a year younger than me, then my third brother is a year younger than them.”
    â€œThat had to be hard growing up.”
    He shrugged. “Never knew any different, really. Mom was there, Dad wasn’t. She used to play pitch with me. I always thought that was cool.”
    â€œThat is cool. That she made time for you like that.”
    â€œYeah.”
    He concentrated on eating his ice cream, and I wondered if he was thinking about his mom. I couldn’t imagine being away from my parents through the summer.
    â€œWhy number eleven?” I asked, to fill the silence. In baseball, jersey numbers weren’t assigned according to positions. Players could select the number they wanted. “Is it special or random?”
    He glanced up. “Nothing too significant, really. I was eleven when I started playing ball, so I asked to have number eleven, like I thought I was going to be eleven forever. And I’ve just kinda stuck with it over the years.”
    Weird. The number on my softball jersey was eight—for the same reason.
    â€œHow was work?” I asked to keep the conversation going. Even if it was a downhill direction, movement was movement.
    â€œOkay. Busy. Way too many orders for fried pickles. Apparently people here like to eat out.”
    â€œOh, yeah. As a matter of fact, I hope you didn’t think last night’s home-cooked meal was our normal routine.”
    He smiled. “Your mom warned me that she has all the local restaurants on speed dial.”
    I laughed. “Yeah. It’s kinda funny. Every January, her New Year’s resolution is to startcooking meals every night. We’re going to eat healthier: fruits, vegetables, low carbs. By the end of the month, she’s back to bringing home takeout.”
    Then I furrowed my brow, remembering last night’s dinner conversation. “When did my mom tell you about her speed dial?”
    â€œLast night, in the hallway, after she came out of your room.”
    â€œYou were talking to my mom? I heard you laughing. I thought you were talking to Tiffany.”
    â€œI talked with her a little later. You’re the only one in the family I haven’t really talked to.”
    â€œYet, here we are talking.”
    â€œYep, we’re doing that, all right. Since you like baseball, I guess you know what a closer is?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œTiffany doesn’t.”
    â€œTiffany is so not into sports.” She thought a baseball diamond was a type of gemstone. Seriously. Don’t even ask how that revelation came up.
    â€œShe’s interesting, though,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a beauty pageant contestant before.”
    I rolled my