Page 9 of Stalked By the Third Baseman

And if he did, he wasn’t interested in me as anything more than his friend because he never said a thing.

But that wasn’t the only reason I liked working the night shift at the school gym. It was quiet and peaceful. I wasn’t a huge workout buff, but working at the gym forced me to get my steps in for the day and do some strength training while I was on shift. Not to mention that after a certain time, no one ever came in, meaning I got a huge amount of my reading done.

Tonight was no exception.

It was quiet sans a group of four girls I noticed usually came in, worked out, and talked about the frat parties they would hit up. I was pretty sure they were in a sorority, but I didn’t want to assume. Either way, they spoke loudly enough that their conversations kept things interesting enough so I didn’t fall asleep in the middle of my shift.

A tall raven-haired girl walked in and scanned her ID. I smiled and muttered my usual “Have a good workout,” before she rushed to her group of friends. You could tell they were all together because they were all wearing the same sort of workout outfit, or something similar, consisting of a sports bra and leggings or biker shorts, combined with a long-sleeved skin-tight zip-up but in different colors.

The girl who had just checked in hugged each one and announced loudly, “They’re back!” She grinned from ear to ear.

“Who?” a blonde wearing a pink set and more makeup than I had for a frat party asked.

“The baseball boys! They’re back early tonight!” the raven-haired girl announced, and squeals of joy almost echoed in the empty gym.

I winced at the sound and the announcement. To be fair, this was usually the way I got information on said baseball boys and a particular third baseman I was stupidly and hopelessly in love with.

“Oooh!” a brunette with a bob said, “maybe we should go to that Lamda Lamda party after all! You know that’s where they all go!”

“Maybe Fergie will be there!” a girl with pink hair squealed.

“Or the tatted-up one on third!” Another girl waggled her brows.

“Girl, you love to go for the impossible.”

“Pshh!” she huffed and leaned in closer.

Suddenly, their loud talk wasn’t so loud, and I couldn’t help the way my stomach turned into knots. Adam was the tatted guy on third. What are they saying? Is it about Adam?

“Hey.” A deep voice startled me, and I turned to look at the guy on the other side of the check-in desk.

“Trevor,” I said, unable to hide the surprise I felt at him standing there.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He winked and leaned against the counter. “Quiet night?” I swallowed, shrugging slightly.

“Mostly,” I mumbled. His gaze went to the girls, who had somehow suddenly noticed him standing with me. They’d more than likely recognized the tall hockey goalie.

“Jock bunnies,” he mumbled and made a face before his gaze moved back to me. “Have you eaten?” The question was so simple it took me a moment to process it. “I can bring us some dinner.”

“Dinner? Here?” I asked, completely confused.

“I mean…” He shrugged. “Why not? I would ask you to the Lamda Lamda party, but I just came from there.” He shrugged. “And you weren’t there.”

“You left a frat party and came to the gym?” I’d told him I had work a couple of days ago when he’d brought it up.

“Yeah.”

“This gym?” I took him in. He wasn’t exactly dressed up, but in a plaid button-up and jeans paired with boots he looked more ready for a party than to work out.

My stupid Adam-deprived brain brought up images of what Adam looked like when he went to a party and to the gym. Both made my head swim with so much lust and love swirled around one another I had to force myself to shake the images away.

“You said you had to work,” he reminded me. When Trevor had brought up the frat party, I’d thought he was just trying to make conversation, small talk.

“I did.”

“So… hanging with you is better than jock bunnies trying to get at me.”

“Hanging with me?” I laughed. “Well, thanks, I think?” I looked up at Trevor and didn’t miss the genuine look on his face.