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( chapter two. ) who's dru?
LITTLE BIT BY DRAKE ( feat. LYKKE LI ) ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
Throughout the one — almost two — decades that Brandon had been playing baseball, Lyla could probably use one hand to count how many times she had attended and showed support for her brother. Not that she didn't support him, it's just that she had other priorities during her high school years. But now that she was out of college for a couple months, spending the hottest days of the year with Brandon and his roommate, she didn't have priorities to excuse her absences from the games.
Though, she wouldn't even say her mind was completely in the right place with her on-going deal with her new roommate still intact.
It was hard not to be sidetracked by him, her eyes were drawn to him every time he stepped onto the field and made a diving play or every time his walk-up song echoed throughout Citizens Bank Park, hypnotizing every fan to sing along. But right now, she was infatuated.
He stood next to the dugout, confidence radiated off him from the recent win, a pair of headphones sat on the top of his head as he talked into the microphone. Lyla leaned over the railing of the club box suit that the other Philadelphia WAG's had welcomed her in, her elbows against it as she watched her brother come into sight with another, very tall man, collectively holding a water jug.
She was too drawn into their antics to notice the petite figure that joined her company, "They do this every game, it never gets old," The voice of Kayla Harper made herself present as the boys simultaneously doused Bryson.
"You're joking," Disbelief laced Lyla's voice as she raised her eyebrows making the woman next to her chuckle.
"Well, every time they win," Kayla corrected herself, "It's usually Bryson and Brandon dumping the water though, but Bryson's the player of the game."
Lyla loudly laughed at her explanation, she didn't realize how significant Brandon and her new roommate were to the team.
And most importantly the fans.
"Player of the game. How cute," She teased with her lip trapped between teeth as she watched the boy below them, the way his jersey stuck dangerously to his biceps and sculpted body or the way his ( assumed ) very pricey chains laid on his chest, blinging under the lights.
He was dangerous.
And honestly, Lyla didn't care very much. Because she was aware that she would be as equally as dangerous too, if not more. And maybe, just maybe, two wrongs could make a right in this situation.
