Page 7 of Stalked By the Shortstop
“Please go with me tonight.”
“Tere,” I groaned, “can’t we go to the next Omega party?”
“We both know if I agree, you will literally keep putting it off, plus I need to make an appearance at this one. Please!”
“Why don’t you ask Kim?”
“Because Kim has a research paper due. She’s stuck at the library this whole weekend. And I know you. If you have anything due within the next thirty-six hours, you more than likely have already finished and turned it in." She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Please!” she begged. “I will do anything.”
“Anything?” I asked.
“Your laundry!” I rolled my eyes.
“I just did it this morning.” She groaned.
“Umm, I’ll do the grocery run!”
“Tere—“
“And unload it and be on bathroom duty until the end of the month.”
“Why do you wanna go to this party that badly?”
“Sadie—“
“Just tell me, and you won’t have to do any of the things you just offered.”
“Porque eres tan chismosa?” she asked, and I giggled.
“I’m not a gossip. Gossip would mean I’d tell someone what you’re about to tell me, and you know I won’t do that.”
“Fine,” she sighed with resignation. “Okay, but no judgment?” Oh, boy! I was right; this was going to be good!
“Pinky promise,” I vowed.
“I kinda have a little bit of a crush.” The words tumbled out really fast, so it took me a moment to process what she’d said.
“You do?” I was unable to mask the surprise or incredulousness in my tone. This was new to me. “And he’s an Omega?” I winced, wondering if maybe she’d headbutted someone at practice and had a head injury.
Tere with a frat guy? I didn’t see it. She made a non-comital sound. Geez, she held so much close to the vest.
“Teresa,” I pushed, using her full name instead of her nickname, so she knew I was serious.
“Fine, yes. Sorta. I think. Look, I’m not positive.” That was not like Teresa. “He plays baseball,” she shared, and again, super unlike her. She didn’t like dating athletes. She’d told me time and time again about how into themselves they were.
“A baseball player, huh?” My lips twitched. “Fine,” I sighed.
“What?” she clipped, and I almost wondered if she had expected me to say no.
“I’ll go with you.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I just probably won’t drink.”
“You mind if I do? I need a drink,” she mumbled under her breath as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
