Rounding Third (11 page)

Who is this guy? There’s no way Crosby has crossed someone in such a short time.

“All right, guys. Ella is to be treated with nothing but respect.”

The room quiets.

Dr. Trickle continues, “She’ll be handling your urine samples and paperwork.” He turns to me. “You want to hand out the papers?”

I stand and start passing out the paperwork, noticing that these guys aren’t the starters. They are second-string players and more than likely freshman and sophomores waiting for spots to open. That means, one of them got bypassed for Crosby. Once the smug asshole talking out of his ass sees Crosby defend third base at all costs, he’ll know why he was passed over.

“Man, Crosby sure has the luck. First, he gets third base, and now, he gets her.” The red-haired kid blatantly stares at my chest when I hand him the paper.

“You’re playing with fire. Lynch will scorch your ass,” the kid next to him says.

“Nice legs, nice ass, nick rack.” He winks his slimy green eye at me.

I slam a pencil on the table.

“Say one more thing about me, and I’ll shove the pencil up your rectum,” I murmur close enough so that only he can hear me.

“A feisty one,” he comments. Then, he shuts his lips, facing forward.

Dr. Trickle calls in the first kid, and the other five complete their paperwork. The line goes fast, an even stream of one guy in, one guy out.

The redhead is the last to go, and when he hands me his urine sample, he leans down close to my ear. “Your boyfriend’s luck will eventually wear out.”

I stand, my chair pushing against the brick wall, and I jab him with my finger. “Listen, asshole, I’m not sure who you are and that’s probably why you don’t own third base, but let me tell you one thing.”

He walks backward, and I continue poking his chest with my finger until we’re on the opposite side of the hallway, his eyes transforming from amused to frightened.

“Crosby is the best damn ballplayer on your team. He plays the hot corner better than anyone, and that’s why he has the position that I assume you desperately want. Enjoy the bench, asshole, because it’s not luck Crosby has; it’s pure talent.” I stop my feet, and my finger retracts.

Laughter rings behind me, and I whip around, finding Crosby, Oliver, Saucey, and Brax with another guy standing there. My face quickly heats up. A playful smile is on Crosby’s face. He’s clearly soaring from my compliments, and Brax is hitting him on the shoulder.

“She might hate you, but she just schooled Seaman.”

Crosby doesn’t move as his friends fiddle with the paperwork and pencils. Obviously, they’re familiar with the drill from years of playing.

“Sorry,” Seaman mumbles. He walks by me and passes the group of guys.

Crosby’s eyes latch with mine, and the smile couldn’t be smacked off his face even if I told him I’d never be his again.

“Seaman,” Crosby says, his eyes glued to mine. When he hears the cleats have stopped moving on the linoleum floor behind him, he continues, “If you ever want to put our talents to the test, I have no objections. But don’t you ever screw with my girl again.” His eyes glimmer with the declaration.

“Sorry, Lynch,” he says before fleeing out the doors to the field.

As the others concentrate on their paperwork, Crosby’s cleats click on the floor, making his way to me.

“I’m not your girl,” I correct him.

Still, those lips don’t turn down in the slightest.

“You’re always my girl.”

I tuck a strand of my hair that’s fallen from my ponytail back behind my ear.

“He wasn’t relenting in saying how
lucky
you were.”

We stare at one another, a silent understanding that neither of us are lucky.

“Thanks for correcting him,” he says.

“You’re welcome.” I go to move past him, but his hand grips my upper arm. Shivers tingle my skin.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” I continue walking, giving him no other choice but to let me go. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil from the table, I thrust them into his chest “Fill this out.”

“Next,” Dr. Trickle says.

The only player I don’t know in this group stands and goes in.

“So, Ella, do you have to hold it for us, too?” Brax asks.

Crosby checks him with his arm to Brax’s chest.

He coughs, gasping for breath. “Jesus, I’m kidding.”

“You should know better,” Oliver chimes in, fist-bumping Crosby.

“She’s my friend.” Brax argues back, but each of them ignores him.

“Hey, I’m going to watch the playoff games over at Field Goal tonight. Anyone interested?” Saucey asks.

Brax and Oliver don’t waste any time in saying that they’ll be there.

Field Goal is the sports bar in downtown Ridgemont. It has fifty-inch flat screens plastered to the walls.

“What about you, Crosby?” Saucey leans forward.

He looks at me, and his teeth scrape his bottom lip. “Sure.”

Oliver and Saucey start trash-talking the teams that will be playing them. Brax smacks Crosby on the shoulder, and they share a smile. It’s nice to see him making friends. He needs to trust others and know that he won’t lose them.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he is healing from the accident. Having a connection to others was the hardest part, and still, I find myself keeping my past away from Jen.

I
walk
into Field Goal Bar and Grill, and every game imaginable is being broadcasted on no less than sixty flat screens. Shit, they even have a polo match playing on one television. I search the room, finding Saucey talking to some girl.

Originally, I planned on going to see Ella and begging her to forgive me for not telling her about the dickhead cheating. Regret has been my best friend today, confirming I should have been straight with her instead of making her see it with her own eyes. Brax’s approach wasn’t cutting it for me, and I didn’t want one of those situations where she didn’t believe me or some crap. I knew, if she saw it, she would know it was true. I never fathomed I’d be the jerk in the situation.

The girl slithers away when she spots me approaching. I think he’s got something going on with Jen, and I really hope Saucey isn’t like Ella’s ex because I’ll lose respect for him.
Why am I always catching guys in compromising positions?

I slide out the stool across from him, checking the score on the Sox game.

“Who was that?” I ask, not looking at him. I hope my question isn’t as investigative as it sounds.

“Who are you, the damn relationship police?” He laughs off my question.

If I add up what I’ve witnessed about him, my guess is, he’s a cheater. After the girlfriend and Jen on the first night, the frat party, and tonight, it’s all too suspicious not to call him out. Then again, I’m the newbie here. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut.

“If you have to know, Jen and I have an open understanding,” he chimes in, his eyes pinned on a television behind my head.

“Hey, man, I just asked a question.” I raise my hands in defense.

He continues talking, which, to me, means he’s guilty, “No, you were implying. You’ve been here a week. We’re fucking ballplayers. You know how much pussy you can have?” He leans in, as though it’s a secret.

Half of the team probably continued to play ball strictly for the girls.

“First, I’m not implying anything. Whatever understanding you and Jen have is between the two of you. Second, I know exactly what being a ballplayer means, but I worry more about my balls on the field than off.”

The waitress comes over, placing a napkin in front of me.

“Who’s your new friend, Tyler?” Her eyes light with a glimmer in my direction.

“Kami, this is our new third baseman, Crosby Lynch. You should give him a warm welcome.” He places his hand out in front of him, and she steps closer.

“Nice to meet you. I have a break in ten minutes. Why don’t we meet in the alley?” She sticks her pen between her breasts that are about to pop out of her second-skin fabric.

“Sorry, but I’ll just have a Miller Lite tonight.” I ignore her obvious tactics to knock off the entire baseball team like a to-do list.
First base, check. Shortstop, check.

“If you change your mind, the door to heaven is right there.” She points to the door labeled
Emergency Exit
. She winks over to me and saunters over to the bar.

After she’s gone, I rest back in my chair and watch the Sox game.

“Hey, man, I don’t know what kind of history you share with Ella, but she can’t be worth passing up all the pussy.”

“She is,” I confirm. I say nothing more, my eyes never leaving the television.

“If you say so.” He shrugs, and we watch television in silence.

Oliver and Brax walk in five minutes later, heaving their breaths, sweat pouring down their faces. Each is wearing track pants and a T-shirt. Classic baseball player attire.

“What’s up?” Saucey asks.

They each slide a stool out to sit down. Brax raises his arm to Kami, and she retrieves two more beers from the bartender’s hands.

“We ran over here. Coach has been on my ass about my sprints this week,” Oliver says.

The guy is an anomaly. He’s tall as fuck, at least six-five, but when he runs, it’s in slow motion. He looks like he’s running, but he never reaches his destination.

“So, our good captain suggested we do hill sprints. Fucker.” Oliver swipes my napkin and dries off his face. “What’s the score?”

“Sox are up by two,” I answer.

Brax’s hand flies up in the air for a high five. We slap hands, commemorating our die-hard Sox-fan relationship.

“How on earth did I end up with two Sox fans as roommates?” Oliver, the Indians fan, shakes his head.

“Your team isn’t even in the play-offs. You might as well come over to the better side,” Brax says, swinging his arm around my shoulders.

“Sox rule,” we say in unison.

“Fuck you.” Oliver throws the napkin at us and nails Brax’s beer.

“You finally made a throw!” Brax remarks at Oliver’s slight slump at first base yesterday at practice.

“Tonight, we’re throwing,” Oliver says.

A mischievous gleam hits Brax’s eyes.

Saucey is quick to step in. “No way. Last time, we broke the lacrosse team’s windows, and Coach was pissed. Let’s hang out here tonight.”

“Fuck that. After the game, it’s on.” Brax eyes Oliver, who only leans closer to see how serious Brax wants to make it.

“What am I missing here?” I ask.

Saucey shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure you do, and I call dibs on Cros. He’s going to put you all to shame,” Brax interjects, tossing a nice compliment my way.

“Screw you. I get the new kid.” Oliver grabs my forearm, and soon, they have me in a tug-of-war.

“You saw him at practice, and you know he’ll hit your glove every damn time. He’s been mine since he was six.” Brax brings up our history.

Many times in the past two years, Brax has been mixed in the nightmares that have tortured me since Noah died.

“Damn right. The kid can hit, and the kid can catch. So, why can’t the kid get his girl?” Oliver slaps the table, and they each roar in laughter.

“Let’s leave my romantic relationship out of this,” I comment before sipping my beer.

“I told him, he’s passing on way too much pussy while chasing Ella,” Saucey says.

Oliver shakes his head. “Hey, when you find the real deal, sometimes, it’s better than having random diamond chicks for half the night.” Something in Oliver’s eyes says he’s experienced what I have with Ella once upon a time.

“Don’t waste your breath. I love Ella like a sister, and I’ve been telling Crosby since he was fifteen not to get all serious, but it’s a done deal. The lineup is in, and there’s only one name on the roster.”

“We’re going to place a bet.” Saucey rubs his hands together, like the devil coming up with a plan.

Nothing good comes from a bet.

Oliver brings his beer bottle to his lips, downing a swig. “Leave the young lad alone. Love can conquer all.” He winks over at me.

It’s condescending but better than Saucey trying to talk me into getting my dick sucked by randoms.

“Love it. What’s the bet?” Brax is eager to find out the terms.

The kid makes more bets and takes more dares than anyone I’ve met. Once, he made a bet to his parents that he’d get straight A’s in exchange for a brand-new car when he turned sixteen. The bastard did it, and his C average was brought up to a B, earning him a brand-new truck.

“Whoever can steer away our prince of a third baseman from his Cinderella claims victory,” Saucey says.

“I’m out.” Brax sits back. “I don’t know how else to tell you this, but he’ll never stray.”

“Okay, okay,” Saucey says. “Since he’s a faithful fucker, let’s take odds of when he’ll get her back then.”

Brax leans forward. “Definitely in on this shit.”

I lean back in my chair, gulping down my beer, waiting for their guesses. Surely, I can take a bet that I’m in control of.

“I say, by Thanksgiving.” Oliver slaps his hand on the table.

“I say, two weeks,” Saucey bets.

“What? That’s crazy,” Oliver says.

Brax looks over at me with a clear smirk on his face. “Nope. I know their history. Hell, I’d say tonight if he groveled enough.” Brax jumps up, seeing the Sox score a run. “Fuck yeah.” He points to Oliver. “Told you. Hop on victory train, Ollie. We’ll take your fair-weather ass.”

After Brax does a lap around our table, Saucey stares me directly in the eyes.

“Actually, I say never.” He’s almost testing me, and I’m unsure of where his challenging stature is coming from. “You’ll ruin it, proving my theory that no hot-blooded, testosterone-filled male can deny the power of the pussy.”

Man, either this guy has been hurt, or he is a player to the core.

Oliver and Brax glance over to me.

“What’s the prize?” I ask.

“I’ll give up my master bedroom to the winner after Christmas break.”

Oliver leans in. “He’s got a damn Jacuzzi tub and a shower all to himself.”

“I’m in. I’ll get her back in one week,” I say.

“You have to stay together until Christmas though to earn the room,” Saucey adds.

I place my hand out in front of him. “Deal.”

He shakes. “Deal.”

The other two bring their hands over ours.

“May the best winner win—which will be me, of course because I win no matter what,” Brax brags.

I cock my eyebrow, and again, he swings his arm around my shoulders. “God, it’s good to have you back!”

The friendship part of my heart warms with Brax’s words because I’ve missed the void Noah left.

I've missed Brax. Back in Millcreek, I was a loner, but I should have known when I decided to come to Ridgemont, Brax would never let me be reclusive. As hard as it was to see him again, I'm thankful for him.

* * *

T
he guys are
in the backyard, knocking over anything and everything to see who can hit the most. My only assumption is, they stole the fake milk containers from a carnival that ran through town once.

With me bowing out, Saucey didn’t seem too pleased with having to be the catcher for both Brax and Oliver. I almost mentioned that they should do it in front of something that would catch the balls, but after Saucey’s challenge, I kept that suggestion to myself.

I have a week to win and keep her. Man, after the words left my mouth, even I doubted myself for a second. But, with the bragging rights, to have that master bedroom would be a bonus.

Unable to wait to win Ella’s trust again, I pull out all the stops, I go up to my room and grab the one thing that will soften Ella’s rage.

Fifteen minutes later, my truck pulls up to her apartment building, and she’s there. She’s talking on the phone, pacing the floor in front of their large window. Her free hand is on her mouth as she nibbles on her nails. It’s a nervous habit I’m all too familiar with. My curiosity piques as I wonder whom she’s talking to and why she’s nervous.

I climb out, the bouquet in my hand. I toss my fingers through my hair, making sure the hairs are in place after Brax’s obsessive need to give me noogies each time he sees me, and I ring her doorbell. My heart springs when her blue eyes peek out, and then she shuts the door. She slides the metal chain and opens the door.

She hijacks my breath when I see her in a pair of short pajama shorts and a tank top that squeezes her tits so tight that my hands itch and my mouth salivates, like a dog waiting for his reward.

“Crosby,” she says.

I bend down on one knee and reveal the bouquet of chocolate Tootsie Pops from behind my back.

“You didn’t.” A wide smile crosses her face.

I’m instantly assured that I made the right decision. She’ll never be able to deny my advances.

“Went through six bags,” I commend myself on searching through bags of Tootsie Pops to only get the chocolate ones.

She takes it from my hand, our fingers brushing, and my stomach flips.

“Thank you. Better than flowers.”

“They come with a condition.” I stand back up to my feet.

She tilts her head my way, waiting for me to continue.

“Your forgiveness.”

She turns around and walks into her apartment, and when I don’t follow, she turns back around.

“Are you coming?”

I urgently step over the threshold. “Yeah,” I say a little too enthusiastically.

She sits on the couch, crossing her legs under herself, and flicks the television to mute. She pats the cushion next to her. “Speak.”

I sit down and toss my arm on the back of the couch, leaving my fingers only mere inches from her bare neck. I’ve never forgotten how much she turned me on with no makeup and her hair swung up into a ponytail. If she wore this nighttime getup back in high school, I would have blown my load at the door.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have. I get why you did it, but you know me. I shouldn’t have pushed you though. That was wrong. I was embarrassed that all these people knew he was cheating on me, except me.”

I slide closer, my fingers playing with a loose hair. She doesn’t stop me, but her breathing falters slightly.

“He should be the one who’s embarrassed.”

“I saw one of his frat boys today in my biology class. He actually asked me out and said he always wanted to tell me about how Liam would be with a girl right after I left, but brothers don’t betray brothers.” Her eyes cast down, and she picks at her nails.