𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✰ 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳 ✔

s e v e n ✺ sleeping satellite

s e v e n ✺ sleeping satellite

2 Weeks Later

"Order up for Rease!" the barista said as she whipped out the raspberry tea I had ordered. I grabbed it, and left.

It had been two weeks since the incident, and I hadn't talked to Chris since then.

However, I had made a new friend: Danny Farquhar.

"Hello?" Danny answered on the second ring.

"Hey!" I greet him.

"Hey, R, what's the word?"

"Nothing. You?"

"Hanging out with Chris. You want to come? We've been eating ice cream and making fun of Donald Trump all day."

"Um..." I trail off. "I don't know. I haven't talked to him after...the incident."

'You're serious." Danny huffed.

I pulled the car over. "Obviously."

"He may seem like an arrogant ass," Danny said, "but inside, he really cares. I mean, he's got the biggest heart. His first impression, maybe, wasn't the best, but seriously, he's over it. And you should be too."

I stay silent, wanting to say something, but not being able to.

"Just come say hey."

"All right." I then hang up, and head in the direction of Danny's house.

Danny must've lied, I thought, as I neared his house. He may have said Chris was gonna be here- actually, he said only Chris was here- but by the look of fancy BMWs and Mercedes cars, it meant the whole team was here. It made my Toyota look bad.

I grab my tea and knock on the door. There, a shirtless Jake Odorizzi greeted me.

"Come in, playa!" He guided me in. I look around for anyone who wasn't stupid as hell (I knew Richie wasn't here), and found Matt Moore in the process.

"Hey, little one." He hugged me. Matt was one of the only players I trusted, next to Danny and Richie.

"Hey, Boaty McBoatstein." Matt had told me a story about some British ship people who gave the public a chance to name their boat and they named it-

"Boaty McBoatFace." Matt corrected.

"Yeah, that's what I meant." I nod.

"Where's your brother?" Matt asked.

"Probably playing golf with Mikie." I shrug. "I don't really keep up with him.

"Why are you here?" Matt uncapped his water and took a gulp.

"Danny invited me."

Chris, who had been standing behind Matt, was now in front of Matt.

"Farquhar?" Chris groaned. "I don't think you should trust him."

"What?" I looked at Chris. "He's really nice, and has helped me out throughout the last two weeks, since you've been an asshole."

"Just a warning." Chris shook his head. "You're a young and beautiful girl, and sometimes players prey on that."

"Uh, excuse me."

As I walked away, I pull up my shirt. If what Chris said was true, I don't want any twenty-somethings prowling on me.

After a while, most of the guys were too drunk to function. I mean, there was a few exceptions (me, Matt, and I'm pretty sure Chris was sober), but the guys were stumbling over themselves, mumbling sweet nothings to plants, and cursing Donald Trump for being a piece of shit.