Beyond Home

Lauren

Practice today was brutal. The hot Miami sun was scorching. Thankfully, we started at six this morning to try and beat some of the heat. Now, here I am at noon sitting on the couch, soaking up the air conditioning, thinking about Camila. Max and the guys wanted me to go for lunch, but I wasn't feeling it. I'm not in the mood for them to give me about the girl who I'm quoting, Jackson on this one, "has got me by the balls." I won't deny it. Well, maybe not the balls part, but she's in my head.

It's been a few days since I've seen her, and I can't get our last conversation out of my mind. She asked me if it was the chase, and I'm certain it's not. However, all I've thought about since she asked me is her and what it is that about her that draws me in. Stating the obvious... she's gorgeous. And it's not the chase, but it's because of it. I'm used to women falling at my feet. My dad played as a professional player my entire life, so I've been and out of the spotlight. As soon as they found out who I was, who my family was, they- meaning most women- offered themselves to me on a silver platter. I took full advantage in my younger years, and hell, even my first year in the majors, but just as fast as the frame and the women came, the novelty wore off. I grew up in a large family full of men who worshipped their wives, and it's hard to not want that for myself. The past couple of years, I've steered clear from groupies. Sure, there's the occasional hook-up but nothing like the majority of my teammates.

It wasn't until I first laid eyes on Camila, that I started really thinking what it would be like to have that one person, all of my own. Someone to come home to after a long stint on the road. Someone tii in share my nights with, and the off-season. The more I think about it, the more the idea forms a foundation. The only problem is that in those daydreams, all I see is her.

Camila.

And she wants nothing to do with me. At least that's what she wants me to believe. I can see it in her eyes, the internal battle she's waging to resist me. I wish I knew what it was that was holding her back. If I knew, I could assure her that whatever it is, it's not to big a mountain to climb. Not in the grand scheme of what could be .

I don't know what it's going to take to get her to take a chance on me.

Flipping through the channels, I stop on an ad for a local florist. The ploy is "let her know you're thinking about her." Normally, I would keep surfing channels, but this time, the commercial works and has me reaching for my phone. I spend the next thirty minutes on the phone discussing the best flowers to send her; the lady on the phone was extremely helpful. She even promised to keep this out of the press. Not that I care about that. I couldn't care less who knows that I'm in knots over this girl. However, my gut tells me that if my interest was to get out, it would push her further away.

They promised delivery to her work today, so I wait to hear from her. The afternoon turns into evening and still nothing. The urge to grab my keys and drive to her work, to be there waiting when she gets off, is strong, but I fight it. I don't want to stalk her. I just want the chance to get to know her. So instead, I settle for watching Sports Center with my phone clutched in my hand, waiting, hoping, wishing she would call. I received an email confirming delivery was made hours ago.

What is it going to take to get her to give me a chance? That's my last thought before drifting off to sleep. Hours later, I'm jolted awake by the alarm on my phone reminding me it's time for my morning run before practice. Silencing my alarm, I turn my head, stretching out the kinks from sleeping on the couch all night. Practice is going to suck. Reaching for my phone, I check my messages and notifications. Nothing from Camila.

Time for me to step up my game.