Four Play: A Collection of Novellas (3 page)

Chapter 5

April 23              Game 26       82 degrees Fahrenheit

Saturday’s game came quicker than I wanted. It was already the third inning, and we were ahead by two. We were up to bat, and I was on deck.

“Hey, have you thought any more about summer camp?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah, a little. We can talk about it after the game. I need to really focus on my grades right now. I missed a test last week,” I said, taking a practice swing.

“Cool. Signup deadline is Friday.”

I nodded and watched as Wanda took the plate.

She stood a full three feet toward the backstop from home plate—closer to the catcher than I’d ever seen any player’s stance. She put all her weight on her back leg, and lifted the bat over her head.

Once Wanda was comfortable, the pitcher got her signal and rounded her arm for the throw.

Wanda swung, and made contact with the pitch. The line drive shot between the second baseman and shortstop, bouncing its way to the green.

Wanda rounded first base and kept her eye on the ball. But the outfielder fumbled her grasp, so she went for it.

She dug down deep, each cleat making dark red indentations in the gravel. The entire field moved, each player concentrated on their positions for the throw to second base, and both umpires hurried to the action to make the call.

The toss was fast, and Wanda dropped to her side, sliding foot-first into the base. A cloud of dust flew up around them, and by the time it cleared, I saw the two arms of the umpire stretched out.

Wanda was safe.

I let out a sigh and put on my helmet as I walked to the plate.

My bat, Lou—the same inspiration for the name of my car—was silver with a brownish-red streak down the side. A Louisville Slugger. She was thirty-two inches, and thirty-two ounces. She’d seen me through the worst of my game, and my best.

She was perfect.

I stretched her out, keeping one hand up to the umpire. He kept his hand up, making sure that the pitcher knew not to throw until I was ready.

I dug a small indent with my cleat, making a perfect space for me to set my sole. I adjusted my hair, tucking it into the helmet, and wiped any excess sweat from my brow.

I surveyed the field, looking for the best spot to place my hit. There was a small gap between the first baseman and the right fielder, so I positioned my stance to aim for it.

The umpire put his hand down, and the pitcher got her signal. She nodded and swung her arm around again.

I whipped Lou hard, but the ball fouled into the parking lot. I sighed, cracking my neck from side to side.

In this league, we played three-two count: three balls, two strikes. One more strike and I’d be out.

I waited for the umpire to retrieve another ball from his pocket. But there was some kind of delay.

Taking a step back from the plate, I waited as he tried to find a game ball. He walked to the opposing team’s coach and asked for one of theirs. The wasted time was killing me, and I almost wanted to snap his mask against his face.

He bounced to a stand just before picking up the ball from the ground, adjusting the neckline of his shirt. Then he turned around and threw the ball to the pitcher.

The umpire had sandy-blond hair.

Strong hands.

Tan forearms.

I looked down at the sand and replayed the throw from the umpire in my head.

I took a step away from the plate, trying to remember where I’d seen those hands before, and why they suddenly had elicited my belly-tumbling reaction to them.

Nolan.

My head jerked to the umpire behind me. The catcher was crouched in front of him, waiting just as impatiently to get the game started again as I’d been seconds earlier.

I peered through the black wire of his mask and saw the smirk in his eyes.

I’d spent the last few innings catching, crouched down in front of him—thinking about him, wondering when I’d see him next, and trying to come up with any excuse I could to get back to Jiffy Lube that wouldn’t cost me a hundred and twenty bucks.

And he’d been standing behind me the entire time.

Why was he there? Had he always been our umpire, but I never saw him? And if he was, then how could he have been at the hospital that first night? Has he been watching me all this time? Was our meeting a coincidence?

The catcher looked even more annoyed as I stood gawking at our umpire. But I couldn’t move. My arms were stiff and my mind raced with questions.

“You ready, batter?” Nolan asked, licking his lips to hide his smile.

I swallowed and took my position, shaking my head to refocus.

I thought there was a runner on second. Maybe first. All I could truly decipher at that point was that I was in the middle of a softball game, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care if we won or lost.

The pitcher swung her arm around, and at the same time, Nolan cleared his throat. I was so painfully aware of his presence that the ball zipped past me and landed in the catcher’s mitt.

I hadn’t even pretended to swing.

Nolan hesitated for a moment until he found his voice in disbelief.

“Strike three,” he whispered.

My teammates gasped, and the bleachers fell silent. I kept my head down and walked shamefully back to the dugout.

“You okay? What happened?” Jessy asked as I sat down on the bench.

I shook my head, disinterested in having the conversation.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you strike out before,” she added.

I waved my hand, dismissing her altogether. It gave the rest of the girls a signal that I didn’t care to engage in any discussion on the matter.

We were two outs away from me having to put my gear back on.

Two outs away from me having to come up with something to say to him.

Two outs away before I’d be bent over in front of Nolan—the absurdly attractive grease monkey who happened to umpire fast-pitch softball games in his spare time.

How was it possible? How had I missed him the entire season? Or worse, the past three seasons? What were the chances of my contented life filled with schoolwork and softball suddenly being thrown into upheaval within a week? I’d seen him three times! Three stupid times, where all we did was bicker back and forth. And he’d gotten me so worked up by his presence that I’d struck out for the first time in my life.

The inning ended and I’d come up with two possible scenarios:

The first was that I could ignore him—pretend he didn’t exist and find it in me somewhere to concentrate on the game.

The second was to try and come up with more witty banter and continue with our playfulness.

I hadn’t come to any firm conclusion as I slid on my mask. I walked slowly to the plate and saw him standing against the wired backstop.

The woman he was speaking to had on a yellow sundress with white flowers. She wore a lot of makeup—with dark red lips—and her curly blond hair bounced in the sunlight as she swept it from her shoulder.

And they were laughing flirtatiously.

She was beautiful. She was sexy. And she was…soft.

Softer than me.

There was a part of me that felt sick; a tiny feeling in my gut that I’d lost. I’m not a jealous person by nature. Never have been. But competitive? Yes.

Regretfully, I was sensible enough to know that anyone who beat me had just played a better game than I did. I couldn’t be jealous that she’d won his attention. He’d said so himself: he likes women like
her
.

Not like me.

With that, I disconnected. I no longer felt any pressure, and had no reason to be nervous. So I decided to push any disappointment—no matter how much—aside, and determined that if I’d lost one thing that night, I still had the opportunity to win the other.

By the time I reached the plate, I was seeing things straight. No more pining. No more flirting. And no more losing.

I crouched down and signaled the warm-up pitch. Izzy threw it straight into my glove, and I watched as all the girls positioned themselves in the infield.

With Nolan behind me—and out of sight—it was much easier to pretend like he wasn’t there. I was just thankful he didn’t speak to me.

I’d successfully evaded thoughts of him well into the ninth inning. We were ahead by six then, and I’d been up to bat twice since I struck out, each time getting to base.

Just before the last out was called, I packed up my gear and got ready to make a run for my car.

“Holy shit!” Wanda slurred.

“What?”

She leaned into me and kept her voice down. “The ump just took off his mask.”

I nodded without looking up. “Oh yeah?”

“And he’s looking straight at us. I’ve never seen a hot umpire before. Is he new? Where’s the old guy?”

“I don’t know.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I gotta go. Finals this week and all. Have a good night!”

I waved to the team and scurried to my car in the dimly lit parking lot.

After throwing my bag in the trunk, I fumbled with my keys, suddenly aware of how much my hands were shaking.

“Hey, Jack!” His voice came from across the parking lot.

But I didn’t make eye contact with him. I looked all around to make sure that none of the team members lurked, and then shoved the key into door.

“Jack! Wait!” he called again.

“Quit calling me that!” I snapped, and turned to him.

He wiped his forehead and quickly jogged toward me.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Really? Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get into—I could get
my team
into—if anyone found out we know each other outside of the game? We’re talking about scholarships canceled, futures at stake, and integrity thrown out the fucking window.”

He stopped a few feet in front of me and looked down to the pavement. “Oh, come on. You’re taking this too seriously. Relax. It’s just a game.”

My jaw flexed as I grinded my teeth. “
You
might be able to look at it that way, as I’m sure you’re getting all of what, twenty bucks a game?” I seethed. “But for these girls, it’s their lives we’re messing with.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Really. You can still have friends, can’t you?”

I shook my head and took a deep breath. “I have enough friends. Why don’t you go and chat with Blondie back there. She’s a much safer
friend
for you to have than I am.”

“Oh! That’s what this is about?” He laughed. “You’re jealous,” he replied softly, tilting his head. “That’s so sweet.”

“Fuck you.” I turned back to my car and opened the door.

As I set myself down into the bench seat, I felt his hips against my shoulder. But before I could push him away and shut the door, he climbed into the car and crushed himself on top of me.

And dammit, I didn’t struggle.

There was a small part of me that wanted to, but the rest of me was surprised—stunned at the situation.

Even worse, I wanted more.

“I told you, Jack. I don’t find you attractive,” he whispered into my ear while taking my earlobe into his mouth.

Holy fuck.

I was instantly aroused at the contradiction of his words. I could feel his growing erection against my thigh as I slipped my hands into his back pockets. I spread my legs for him to crawl between them.

“Just so you’re aware,” I stuttered, feeling his warm breath against my ear, “I don’t find you attractive, either.” I pushed against his ass and brought my hips up to meet his.

He snickered and tugged my shirt out from the waistband of my slacks. His hand trailed underneath my shirt and ripped my breast from its constraints. I heard the material tear, and I let out a groan.

“Someone is going to see us,” I said, still aware of our surroundings. He took my breast into his hand and rubbed my nipple between his fingers, seemingly not concerned with who might get a peek. And although we were fortunate that I’d parked in the back part of the lot, shaded by trees, it was still too close for comfort.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” he growled.

Chapter 6

I followed Nolan back to his apartment, and kept my eyes on the taillights of his truck. Each stop sign was painfully aggravating, and at every red light he paused only briefly, blowing through it if there were no other cars around.

It seemed as though he was in as much of a rush as I was to get there.

My throat went dry, and my pulse raced with every deep breath of anticipation. It had been the longest five minutes and thirteen seconds of my life.

We pulled into a small parking lot surrounded by trees that sat in the shadows of a large apartment building. I hadn’t been in my car long enough to get the air conditioning on full blast, and my entire body felt sticky, dirty, and achy.

He pulled into a space up against the building, and before I could put the gear in park, he was jumping out of his truck and jogging to my car.

I tried to swallow as I opened the door and got out, but a small lump formed in my throat instead. I tried to close my door, but his arms were around me and his lips were on mine.

I leaned back against Lou as his hands cupped my ass. He lifted my hips and carried me to the trunk of the car. With his feet planted firmly into the ground, he set me down and quickly brought his hands behind my head.

His kiss was ferocious and eager. His tongue swirled against mine, and I could almost taste his desire.

I wrapped my legs around him and twisted a knot into his shirt with a firm grasp. I pulled him down onto the trunk, and his hands found the tender skin underneath my shirt. He moved them smoothly around my sides and tickled my sensitive flesh.

“Nolan,” I said when I was able to take a breath.

“Mmm?”

“I think we should go inside. I should take a shower before we…” I trailed off.

He lifted my shirt and brought his tongue to my stomach. My head nodded backward on its own accord and my hands found his hair.

“I like you dirty,” he managed to say, only taking a second away from his torment. His lips moved upward and he released my breasts from the tattered lace of my bra.

I looked up at the building and spied each window to ensure that no one was watching us. Only a few windows were lit from behind their curtains, but I knew if I didn’t stop this soon, I’d be taking too much of a risk that the entire neighborhood would see a hell of a lot more than I wanted them to.

“Nolan. Someone will see us.”

His pace began to slow and his grip on my breasts eased slightly.

I chuckled. “I think your patience can afford the forty-second walk to your apartment.”

He stopped, and after a moment, he laughed. He stood up straight and pulled me to a stand. “Afraid of showing some skin?”

I smirked and shook my head, following his lead.

Our walk to the apartment doors was slow. He’d look at me, and when we made eye contact he’d look down to the ground and snicker.

His pinkie edged toward mine as a gesture he wanted to hold my hand. And by the time we reached the doors, I’d laced his fingers through mine.

“So you don’t date during the season, huh?” he asked.

Slipping his key into the lock, he hesitated in opening the door and looked at me for an answer.

I took a sharp inhale and battled with how I’d answer him. I didn’t want to think about the consequences of this—of him. I hadn’t taken any time to rationalize what I was doing. For too long I’d concentrated on nothing but the game and my grades; taking one night away from it all didn’t seem unreasonable.

But now that I was put on the spot, I didn’t know what kind of answer he was looking for. Was it safer for him to know that there would be no strings attached to this night, or was he looking for an entirely different response?

There were also the girls to consider. I’d never have any intentions of putting the game—or their futures—in jeopardy, but I wanted this man so desperately that I was willing to risk it.

It was a horrible thought, and I was pissed at myself for thinking it. But I’d been so captivated by him that the game was the least of my worries.

I took a few seconds before I answered. “I have things in my life that are important to me.
More
important than any complications that could come from a one-night stand.” I gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t want to think about any of those things tonight.” I swallowed and hoped I wasn’t giving away too much. “But I’m not ruling out the possibility of
someone
becoming just as important to me as my game.”

A smile rose to his cheeks and he let out a small laugh. After taking his key from the door, leaving it unopened, he took a ragged breath. “Good.”

I panicked a little. His refusal to let me into his apartment was giving me the message that I’d said the wrong thing.

Dammit.

I’m not gonna get laid tonight.

My facial expression must’ve given away my position, as he suddenly took my chin in his hand. “Look at me, Jack.”

My brow furrowed and I brought my eyes to his.

“As much as I want to take you upstairs tonight,” he said, raking his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh, “we’re not going to stand a chance at something
more
if we do this…tonight.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying I want to take you on a date.” He scratched his chin nervously. “You know, flowers, candles, dinner.” His eyes wandered over my hips and up to my chest.

I scowled. “Or we could just bypass the steak and go back to the trunk of the car,” I pleaded. “Unless you’re just doing this to get me in a dress…”

“Well, if you’re going to wear a dress, then it’s a done deal.” He laughed.