mahigurl77
I've always believed that life can be measured in ink. Black ink for facts, blue ink for dreams, and red ink for the mistakes you never want to make again. My planner was a sea of black and blue until I met Jax Sterling. He was the human equivalent of a red ink spill-messy, permanent, and impossible to ignore.
The air at the stadium smelled like a mixture of expensive cologne and dirt. It was my first day as the liaison, and I was determined to be the best one they'd ever had. But then I saw him. Jax was leaning against the dugout, spinning a baseball in his palm like he owned the gravity that kept it there. He looked at me-the girl with the organized binders and the buttoned-up cardigan-and he smirked. It wasn't a nice smirk. It was the kind of look that told me my perfectly ordered world was about to be turned upside down.