Caught (10 page)

Top of the 7
th

Chace

Walking out onto the pristine fields, I swallow the lump that has wedged itself in my throat since I woke up this morning.  Looking around at the green grass and freshly groomed dirt, I realize that I’ve never played anywhere this nice, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.  The nerves are something new for me.  I’ve been playing baseball since I was five, and I have always been confident in my abilities.  But being here, surrounded by college players that I have been following the last few years, is definitely intimidating. 

“Donahue!”

I turn to see Lester Wood, All Pac-10, All-American Catcher, and member of the Division 1 Championship team, jogging towards me.  Calling
my
name.
  Wait a second….he knows my name.
  Before I have the chance to speak he’s in front of me, his hand outstretched to meet mine.  I manage to throw my hand into his just as he speaks again.

“Glad to see you made it.  When did you get in?”

“Just last night.”  My eyes break away from Lester’s and I scan the field again, noting the hustle and bustle of activity that is surrounding us.  Guys are warming up, taking swings, and playing catch everywhere.  I take notice of the number of them. It seems like way too many to have on a team.  My nerves suddenly increase ten-fold.  There’ll be cuts, and suddenly I’m not so sure of myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to the conversation I had started with Lester.  “Don’t worry, man,” he says with a smile.  Obviously my panic is written all over my face.  “You’ll be fine.”

“How many?” I ask without hesitation.

“There’s thirty.  The managers only like to carry fifteen.”

My stomach churns as I realize I have a fifty percent chance of making the final cut.  “Shit.”

“Yeah.  But like I said, you’ll be fine.”

I’m glad someone’s confident in me.  “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I’ve been overhearing lots of the scouts talking about you.  Besides, you’ve got to be pretty fuckin’ awesome to be here as an incoming freshman. It takes most guys at least two or three collegiate years to get an invite.  So yeah, Donahue, I think you’re in the clear here.”  He grins and tosses me the ball he’s been holding.  “Now, I’m dying to see you throw, so let’s get that golden arm of yours warmed up.”

  ***

Lester was right. 

After striking out three All-American’s and inducing a handful of ground-outs in three innings work, I not only made the cut, but I became an instant part of the existing team.  In fact, I was told by one of the managers that I could expect to start in the season opener the following weekend.  My uneasiness was short-lived, and I was hella-thankful for that.  I definitely didn’t like feeling like I wasn’t in control…

“Told you you’d be okay,” Lester says as we walk towards the locker room.

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave it off.  “But in all seriousness, I’m just so damn lucky to even be here.”

“We all are.  It’s an opportunity of a lifetime.  Make sure you take it for all it’s worth, Donahue.”

I nod.  Lester’s reminding me of what I already told myself on the trip down here.  I need to focus on what this can bring for me.  I can’t be spending all my time worrying and wondering what’s going on back home.  My head needs to be on baseball, because it’s already apparent to me that this can open more doors for me than I initially thought possible.

Once I’m in the locker rooms, I open my duffel bag and grab my cell phone.  Hitting the button, I allow it to come to life.  Once on, it buzzes as text after text comes through.  Excited to have some communication from people I care about, I eagerly open up the messages to see a string of texts from Finley.

                
F: Modeling day!

F: Hope you’re having a great practice.  I’m thinking about you in those tight pants right now.

F: I miss you already.

F: Quinn better be awake when I get there.

F: I knew it.  That bitch is still sleeping.

F: I’m gonna shit a brick when I find her.

A slow grin creeps across my face as I continue reading.  The next text was time stamped about thirty minutes later.

F:  Just got here.  Talk to you later.

I open my messages back up to see if I have anything else in my inbox.  Deep down I know I’m hoping for something from Quinn, but my hope is short lived.  There’s only a lone text from Greg, asking if the Cape chicks are hotter than the girls back home.  My smile falls away as I realize I haven’t heard from Quinn since her dinky text that wasn’t really her at all. 

Not only have I not heard anything, but it is extremely unusual for the girls to be together and for me to not be hearing from both of them.  They always, and I mean always, texted me with their little gripes about the other when they spent any amount of time together.  Not necessarily because they dislike spending time with each other, but it was more of a game for them.  I was the impartial party that they could unload on.  Neither of them knew that the other was texting me as well. I was a freaking vault.  Besides, I secretly enjoyed their little cat and mouse game of drinking the hater-ade.

I look around the locker room at the guys I’m going to be spending the summer with.  They’re whooping it up and anxiously talking about the upcoming season.  Some of them are making plans about going out, and I can’t help but be a little jealous.  They all seem to be carefree, and here I am worrying about shit that I shouldn’t be.

My phone goes off in my hand and my heart leaps.  It literally leaps as I wonder if it’s Quinn.  Then my conscious grabs ahold of me and gives me a hard shake, bringing me back to Earth.  Quinn isn’t mine.  I have no right to be craving communication from her.  I let out a sigh as I notice its Finley’s name on my screen.  I shake my head in disgust.  I should be excited to hear from my actual girlfriend.  But for some reason I’m just not.

Not really caring, I open the new text from Finley.  A picture of her and Quinn pops up on my screen.  They’re both all dressed up with their hair and makeup done to make them look older than they actually are.  Finley is in her glory, all smiles, and looking gorgeous as ever, but my eyes are drawn to Quinn. 

My best friend.

My Quinn. 

She’s smiling, but it’s clear to me that she’s annoyed.  It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone that doesn’t know her like I do.  Using my thumb and forefinger, I touch the screen, zooming in on her face.  The fake smile on her face doesn’t fool me.  Her eyes tell me everything I need to know; she’s sad.  Things are eating away at her already, and it kills me that she won’t admit it.

“She’s hot,” Lester comments, looking over my shoulder.  “Your girlfriend?”

I quickly zoom out, so that both girls are visible in the picture again.  “Nah, my best friend.  The blonde’s my girl.”

Lester leans over to take another look.  He sits back and lifts an eyebrow at me.  “Damn, Donahue.  You got it rough man.”  He laughs.  “Why don’t you share the wealth?   Hook me up.”

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to lunge at Lester and pound the piss out of him.  All-American or not, wanting to ‘hook up’ with Quinn is grounds for a formal meeting with my fist.  But that probably wouldn’t bode well for my CCBL debut. 

I take a deep breath.  “Quinn would eat you alive.”

“Doubtful,” he scoffs.  “Greedy much?”  He laughs again, which is good for him, because it lets me know that he’s just joking.  “No worries, Donahue, you can have them both.  I’ve got plenty of California girls waiting on me back in LA.”

My muscles relax knowing that he was just messing around.  He didn’t
really
want to hook up with Quinn.

I let out an exasperated sigh.

This focusing on baseball thing is going to be hard.

Bottom of the 7
th

Quinn

My phone buzzes, and I instinctively pick it up. Finley’s rambling about all this college stuff she’s looking forward to, and I just want a damn distraction. I stare down at my screen, instantly regretting the distraction I picked.

Chace: Just wanted to say I’m sorry and I know I’m responsible.

I glance at Finley, who is flinging off the last outfit she had on, taking her sweet ass time getting the clothes she wore here back on. I don’t want to reply, really I don’t. But curiosity gets the fucking best of me.

Me: For what?

I leave my text completely open for him to explain whatever it is he’s either sorry or responsible for, or both. The ball is completely in his field. I snicker at that thought, since it’s so fitting with Mr. Baseball Player. Or Mr. Player. That’s yet to be determined.

“Why hasn’t he replied yet?” Finley huffs, expecting the ceiling to part and an overwhelming brightness from the sun to shine in with a deeply profound voice to answer her question. I don’t even need to ask who she’s talking about. The little voice in my head answers her back mentally with its squeaky, sneaky voice, saying,
“Because he’s texting me, Biotch!”
I snicker again, but this time it causes Finley to whip her head in my direction and give me a disapproving glare.

“Something funny, Quinn?” My phone buzzes and her eyes shoot down. I know where this is heading if I don’t do some quick work.

“Not everything’s about you, Fin. Greg said something funny.” I hold my phone up to calm her tits and the accusations that I could literally see brewing in her eyes.

“Oh, good.” Her body relaxes a bit, but not too much, because that would be considered being a lazy sloucher, as her mother calls it. Or as Finley calls me. She sits down, sliding her feet into her peep toed heels. “That still doesn’t explain why Chace hasn’t replied to that pic I sent him yet.” She picks up her phone, doing a double check. And I look back down at mine, knowing exactly why she hasn’t heard from him yet.

Chace: The pic. You look sad. Don’t say you aren’t. I know you are. And I know it’s my fault.

Me: I’ll be fine, Chacer. Text your gf and tell her how hot she looks in the pic. She’s spazing out that you haven’t replied yet. Later.

I throw out the nickname, hoping it will lighten his load some. I don’t need him stressing about me and what I’m feeling when he needs to have his head fully focused on his future and what this amazing opportunity can do for him. I’m going to do everything on my end to keep this from turning into some kind of Jerry Springer type drama. I snicker again, picturing Fin and I on that stage, pulling and slapping at each other. She doesn’t give me the stank eye this time about me laughing to myself. She’s too busy talking to her boyfriend, who thankfully took my neon flashing light clue and called his girlfriend.

I hear her tell him she loves him before hanging up, and I know all is well in
Finley’s World
.

Party time. Excellent. 

Shoot me now.

“All good in da hood?” I ask, playing the part.

“I have the best boyfriend in the world!” She lets out an overly happy sigh before bending down to grab her purse.

“If you only knew”,
the little squeaky, sneaky voice in my head says. This time I refrain from snickering.

****

I usually don’t care to go shopping with Finley. Only because our tastes aren’t the same. She’s more into clean, symmetrical, plain, boring type stuff. She calls my taste messy and a huge eye sore. I call it colorful, eccentric, moody, loud, fun, expressive, and I could keep going. She asked me yesterday if I’d tag along while she shopped for her future dorm room, and I agreed because, unbeknownst to her, I have a dorm room to shop for as well.

She holds up this white ruffled comforter. “What do you think of this?”

“I think white will be a bitch to keep clean.”

“Fine,” she groans. “Help me find something then.”

“You’re on your own, babe. I’m looking for myself today,” I say from the next isle over.

“Why?” I hear her heels clicking the closer she gets to me. “Why do you need a new bed set if you aren’t going off to college?”

I’m not sure why, but what she just asked strikes a nerve. Like just because I’m not going off to college, it’s not as big of a deal.

“I’m going to college. Just because it’s not an expensive one that mommy and daddy are paying for or are tight with the dean at, doesn’t mean it’s not important.” My words piss her off and I like it. But I’m not trying to start a fight, so I decide to tone it down a notch. “Look, everyone I know is running off to college and I’m not. I just want to feel like something has changed for me at least when you all leave. If changing my bed set can do it, then I welcome it.”

Her high arched brows drop, and sympathy fills her face. “Oh, Quinn.” She reaches in and hugs me. “We will visit and chat all the time.” Her words should comfort me, but they don’t. I’m lying to my best friend, and I’m a shitty friend for doing so.

After Fin charges up her parent’s credit card and I dwindle down my graduation money to buy new clothes for our beds, we head back to her house. I have been so good at dodging FaceTime moments with the happy couple. But Finley is starting to poke and prod at me for not wanting to.

“He’s been gone for three weeks, Quinn. Twenty-one days, Quinn. Five hundred and four hours, Quinn.”

“Gah. I get the point. He’s been gone thirty thousand, two hundred and forty minutes.”

“Do you not miss him?” She falls back on my bed, and I fall back the opposite of her.

I refuse to answer her question, but it’s time I put any future ones to rest.

“When are we doing this?”

“Yay!” She jumps up and falls on me. “Chace will be so happy.” She lies at my side and pulls her phone out. “Let’s do it now. It’ll totally surprise him.”