Southern Gulf University Series: Book 2 | Sequel to Finding Our Way | Not a stand alone
When Mason breaks Lexi's heart and her trust, she takes the job offer in LA and leaves him in her past. Or so she thinks.
Fast forward five years and Mason is t...
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I take a sip of my cold water from the bottle and screw the cap back on before adjusting my jersey from falling off my shoulder. It's the bottom of the 8th inning and I couldn't have been more wrong about Brooke and baseball.
For starters, she actually watches the game. I'm talking every. single. pitch. On top of that, she insisted we can only go to the bathroom or get food during a break in the innings. Oh, and we have to stay until the very last pitch even though the Dodgers are up 10-0.
It hasn't been all that bad but I also haven't been paying attention that much. I've been messaging back and forth with my boss on which new artist we're going to sign and when I should fly out to meet her. I checked a couple of emails and caught up on some e-books I've been meaning to read. Brooke didn't seem to mind, she just enjoyed having somebody to sit with and complain to about the umps.
The crowd goes wild as our relief pitcher jogs out to the mound for the final inning and I close my Kindle app to focus on the remaining three outs. With ease, the pitcher throws two that are pop ups and one final strike out. I adjust my across body purse and turn to Brooks, silently moving her along.
"Wow that was a great game, wasn't it?" She asks, making her way down the steep stadium stairs to the tunnel that spills out onto the concourse.
"Yeah it was great." I reply, throwing my water bottle in the recycling can. I never understand why people throw the bottle away when they place a recycling can right next to it.
"Oh please you weren't even watching!" She exclaims, linking her arm through mine so we don't get separated in the sea of fans.
I shoot her a tight smile but keep my mouth shut. Brooke wouldn't understand why it's hard for me to be back in a stadium let alone actually watch the game. I only got into baseball because of him.
Watching Mason play was exciting and nerve racking at the same time. The way he'd shoot across the baseline to ground an incoming ball, selling out his whole body to make the play was nothing short of amazing to me. I would ask him all the time how he wasn't scared he'd break a rib or worse, misjudge it and take a ball to the face. He'd laugh, a deep throaty sound that I felt to my core, before shaking his head and saying "it doesn't hurt as bad as it looks".
"You don't have to hide how you feel about him to me." Brooke says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"I don't feel anything for him."
Her eyebrows shoot up as if to say "yeah right" but instead she grabs the railing and says "Enough talk about baseball. Let's go to the bar!"
We cross the street and walk a block to the new country bar, Old Time Saloon, and stop at the end of the line wrapped around the building.
"Well at least I have time to freshen up my makeup." Brooke says, digging around in her oversized purse for a makeup brush and powder.
I watch as she moves the pink brush across her forehead, down her nose, and finishing on her chin. Then she pulls out a tiny mirror and an eyeliner pencil before reapplying mascara.
"How much makeup did you bring?" I ask, as she swipes a wand of lip gloss across her lips.
"A woman is always prepared Lex." She says, wiggling her eyebrows.
"I am not that woman."
She sticks the wand back into the sparkly pink tube and says "And that is why I love you."
I roll my eyes as we edge our way to the front doors before finally showing our IDs. I'm met with a blast of cold air when I open the heavy glass door and walk inside.
"Wow this place is huge." Brooke says, grabbing my wrist.
She's right, this is the biggest bar I've ever been in. To the right is a red bar with several stools around it, each set in front of a massive TV screen. To the left is a large brown mechanical bull with a comfy pit to fall on below it. Black padding surrounds the bull and pit with a small opening to allow riders to hop up into the ring. Straight ahead is a dance floor with a wooden lifted stage in the middle with signs pointing to a karaoke bar and a 90's bar.
"Let's get a drink!" She squeals and pulls me further into the place. We make our way up to the bar, each buying a fruity drink, then head for the dance floor. Music is blaring through the speakers as the DJ mixes one song after another and I can feel my hearing starting to go. Brooke and I dance around with each other, side stepping adoring men waiting for their shot.
A group of girls has gathered around the 90's bar squealing and throwing her phones around although I can't see what they're freaking out about.
"What are they doing?" I ask, leaning into Brooke.
"I'm not sure. Who cares, I'm going to get another round. Don't go anywhere." She warns, her eyes flicking over to a pair of guys who have been trying to dance with us all night.
I nod and suck down the rest of my drink before discarding it on the nearest table. Two drinks later, I'm feeling a tipsy as Brooke spins me around the dance floor. This is the lightest I've felt in a long time and it feels great to release some of the stress I've been carrying with me.
"I'm going to give you a big spin towards the bar so we can get another drink. Ready?" Brooke asks, taking my hand and raising it above her head.
I nod, smiling and laughing as she spins me towards the bar until I lose my footing and bump into a guy near it.
"Oof," I say, steadying myself against his chest, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you."
He loosens his grip on my elbow and helps me stand upright as a tall bouncer-like man comes over and separates us, stepping in front of my mystery savior.
"It's okay Nate. I know her." He says, reaching out for my hand. The bouncer steps aside as I adjust my purse while Brooke comes rushing up to me.
"Are you okay? I don't think you need another drink." says Brooke.
I turn to look at her to agree until the man laughs and says, "I can buy you both a round. What are you having?"
The laugh is low, throaty, and all too familiar. I look up at the man who kept me from falling flat on my face and I'm met with warm chocolate brown eyes that make my insides melt.
"Oh my gosh," Brooke squeals, "You're Mason Young."
