Game on, Love (Pitch and Pits #1)

23

Raina

FOR THE LAST TWO days, my evenings were spent going over Ma’s journal and reliving the memories from our last year together, and it was finally starting to catch up to me.

She hadn’t written each day, but I had seen the pattern. The days when she missed my brothers a little more were the ones she wrote the most on, almost as if it was her way of saying it to them, or when she had a really bad day because of her meds, were the ones where there were only a couple of lines, though all of them were only filled with guilt, but there was never an explanation to them. A part of me understood it, considering that she’d meant them to be only for her eyes, but she’d left them for Vedant. I wondered if they were meant to be part of something bigger, or maybe reading the older ones first helped, or maybe she wanted us to ask the other person in our life who also knew the bigger truths. I wasn’t sure, but there was a part of me that hoped it was anything but the latter.

And then there was a third type: the memories she’d made with me. They were a mix of two. Sometimes, longer when we’d fought—clearly, being a stubborn teenager with severe daddy issues had me acting like a brat—but there were also some special moments she’d written about, and all of them included baking different things.

While, I had only a faint memory of the fights we had, call it selective memory or what. I did remember the special ones vividly.

So, here I was, making Gujarati Magas. Unlike the other recipes in my journal—the one that was handed down to me—that were old and traditional Punjabi desserts which were passed down through generations. This was among the ones Ma had learned herself, and it was the one of the two things we made a lot of in our last year. Then, I hadn’t thought of it much, but now, I wondered if it was because she missed her boys too much.

I’d stopped by one of the Indian supermarkets after work to grab the handful of ingredients I needed, but I flipped the page to double check I had all of them in front of me.

Once I was sure, I grabbed my sifter and flour, and just like that, my mind was tuning out the thoughts.

I HAD FORGOTTEN HOW much of a workout it was to make these. I was twenty minutes into mixing the batter on the stove, and I had another good five to ten minutes left and my arm was dead.

The kitchen was filled with an unmistakable scent of cardamom and roasted flour; my mind was bouncing between the memories of Ma and the ache in my chest that was permanently there at her loss. It was like the grief was woven into my DNA, although often, when it got too busy, it covered itself in the strangest forms; then I’d sit on my bed at the end of the day and remember that she’s gone all over again. My therapist had said, ‘It was normal’ and ‘It was what you were supposed to do’ or even went as far as saying, ‘It was part of healing’. But the truth was, no matter if it was healing or not, sometimes, when those endings didn’t come, and the next time I would think of her, I would feel the guilt for forgetting her.

“What are you making?” Rihaan’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts like a hot knife, startling me. And if I hadn’t been leaning on the counter next to the stove, I was sure I would’ve jumped back.

Turning my head in his direction, I spotted him with a hand on the refrigerator door, which was open, and it was enough to tell me that he’d been planning not to make any conversation until he noticed the dessert.

“Majas,” I replied before clearing my throat after my croaked voice reached my ears.

Rihaan blinked, almost as if trying to… I had no clue. My brother was a stranger to me, how his brain worked, or who he was? It was a total mystery to me. But with him, I also never tried to fill the gaps. The thought often stemmed from the fact that as a kid, I knew the sweet boy who loved playing cricket, who, granted, would sometimes shut the door in my face when I tried to join him and Vedant playing video games, but he was my brother, but my last memory of him was him saying he had no clue who I was, and that he never wanted to see me again.

And sure, I wanted to blame that on him grieving, but it was years before that when he stopped interacting with me, and there were only so many excuses you could make for a person.

A loud noise echoed from the fridge, indicating it had been open for far too long, but it broke his trance. Shutting it close, he walked over to me, and I was… confused.

“Is that…?” Rihaan glanced at my journal, and I waited for him to finish. I didn’t want to lie until it was my last resort, and answering his unspoken question before him would indicate I knew what he was talking about. “Oh. What’s this?”

“It’s a mix of recipes that Ma taught me and some old ones that I haven’t tried, but they were passed down to Nani, so she wanted me to have them.”

Rihaan visibly gulped, his eyes meeting mine. “She taught you how to make Majas?”

“Yeah… Have you had it before?”

“It was my favourite growing up. Dad’s too.”

Oh.

Everything in me stilled.

He didn’t wait for my reply, his eyes focusing on the mixture before us, which gave me time to pretend I had recovered.

“It’ll be finished in another few minutes, but it takes a good couple of hours to set. I can bring you some… if you want?”

He nodded before his glassy eyes met mine. “I’m sorry.”

My breath hitched, unsure how to respond to that so I tried my best to force a nod. I wasn’t sure what it meant even as I did it… all I knew was that it told him I heard him, and for that moment, it must’ve been enough for him because he stared at me for another beat before leaving the room.

Somehow, taking the air in the room with him.

Oliver

I RUBBED A HAND over my face. The selection match was in less than two weeks, and though I felt ready… my mind had been a bit over the place. I wasn’t exactly distracted , and while Sean would definitely disagree with me, I was just living my life instead of existing in the world of cricket.

Mum, on the other hand, was clearly pleased at the fact. At our dinner the other night, I think she took each chance she could mention that she was so happy I’d been focusing on creating a balance between life and the game before some of the busiest years of my life began. She had always been that way, though earlier, it was more me focusing on school and getting a degree—just as a backup. Though at that time, it came from a place of concern after her brother had lost his competitive athletic career after an injury, but after Dad’s diagnosis, she had been more focused on that than anything.

But today when Coach and Sean had recommended going over the footage, considering the selection was soon, it felt like being splashed with ice water. The past month, I had barely spent any time going over any footage when it was something I did with a religious fervour. Once Rihaan and I got home around midday, I spent the whole day in the theatre room, going over the Border–Gavaskar Trophy Series.

The good thing about having a bathroom in the theatre room meant we had no reason to leave during the match; the bad thing, on the other hand, was not being able to use it as an excuse so I could step out and see Raina. She’d gotten back at some point, which I only knew because Rihaan had gone to the kitchen to grab us some snacks at some point and instead returned with a look that was enough to tell me he had seen her. And the one time she had come to the theatre room, I’d gone up to take a piss.

I was irritated with myself for the rest of the game; no part of me was glad at missing the world’s most awkward encounter because what in the world happened that made her comfortable enough to come up here and give him the treats that he clearly loved so much.

Rihaan had offered me a single piece before he had annihilated the rest of it. Though, knowing Raina, I knew she’d have more downstairs. It had been only a couple of minutes since we were done. I wasn’t exactly sure why I hadn’t gotten up the moment he left, but I was glad I hadn’t because this way, he wouldn’t question it if I walked into her room—even though I’m pretty sure he already deduced the fact that she and I were friendlier . But going into her room would raise questions that I didn’t want to answer just yet.

When Milo walked into the room, I knew I was fine to leave; considering how much he still hissed at Rihaan, there was no way he was still nearby.

I stood up and closed everything before grabbing my stuff in one hand, and Milo, who hadn’t been thrilled at the fact I was planning to leave just as he had entered the living space in the other hand. Taking a few steps, I was in front of Raina’s room, where I froze.

Rihaan was standing a few steps ahead of me, his back to me, while Raina was in front of him. And just like in the way she always did, she found my eyes which were already on her. He noticed her gaze and turned, instinctively taking a step back as he noticed Milo in my hand.

“What are you doing?” Rihaan asked, his voice a mix of confusion and wariness.

“Stopping by to thank your sister for her treats,” I replied, easily as a grin took over my lips, spotting his gaze on Milo. “And asking if there’s any more because you gave me a single piece before destroying the rest in seconds.”

I spotted the gleam in her eyes the moment I said it, and warmth filled me.

“They are mine,” Rihaan grumbled, shaking his head.

“Learn how to share, jerk.”

“No.”

I lifted Milo in his direction, who instantly hissed at him, and I chuckled lowly at my new partner in crime. “Say, yes.”

When he didn’t, I took a single step before he caved.

“Fine. Whatever, asshole. Just keep him away from me.”

I just grinned, giving Raina a nod. She was watching us with a lightness, and I took a mental picture before climbing back up the stairs.

THE SOUND OF A SOFT knock on my door filled the air just as I stepped out of my bathroom.

“Yeah?” I called out, pulling out my duvet back.

Raina opened the door slightly and squeezed in with a tiny bowl in her hands before shutting it back behind her.

“Hey, Gorgeous,” I said, my eyes soaking in her presence.

“Hey,” She replied softly, walking over to the small mini fridge I had in the corner. “I took some pieces out for you. I know he said he’s fine with you having some, but they could very well be gone by the time you wake up, considering I heard him setting up his gaming stream.”

I laughed because even though she liked to say she didn’t know him much, she was spot on. But it was quickly replaced by the warmth I felt all over me at her small gesture, so I dropped my duvet and walked over to her. She straightened up, her back bumping with my chest, as I leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek.

Her soft skin warmed up slightly under my lips, and I whispered. “You’re cute. Thank you.”

She nodded, relaxing against me, catching me a little by surprise but almost like it was the most natural thing, I placed my arms on her hips, holding her in place. “I’m glad you liked them. I kept on thinking about them when I was reading my mum’s journal, so I thought I’d make them again.”

“I think they beat the bagels in the ranking, but your brownies still hold firm at the top.”

I wasn’t sure what in particular I had said, but a smile took over her face before stepping out of my hold. She met my eyes, and it felt like I no longer needed oxygen to breathe; the emotions in her eyes were enough to make me feel like I hadn’t even been alive before, and it was that moment that taught me the true meaning of breathing life into someone. As she’d just awakened something in me I didn’t even know existed.

“What?” She asked, and I shook my head, my hands running down her side. This time, it wasn’t even about her; I needed to give myself the luxury of knowing the feeling before I shared it with her, instead of overwhelming her.

Her gaze shifted to Milo lying on my bed, and she sighed. “I think I can officially start calling you a cat stealer.”

“I did not steal your cat,” I chuckled as she walked over to him. “If anything, he chose me.”

“I know. That makes it worse,” Raina muttered, climbing my bed next to Milo. He opened his eyes, and when she pulled him in her direction, he went easily, making her smile. “I think it may be your bed.”

My heart raced at the sight of her in my bed, and the feeling of how perfectly she fit in the pieces of my life seeped into my skin.

“It’s definitely me.” I teased before walking to my bedside and lying down on my side opposite her.

“He doesn’t even sleep in my bed, much less cuddle me like this.”

“You can stay here as long as you want.”

She groaned as though remembering something. “I left my lights on in my room. I’ll need to go back at one point or another. Why are you shaking your head?”

I opened my phone and placed it in front of her. “We have smart lighting in the house. I could turn it off with a click.” I swiped over a couple of things before pulling up the map of her room, where I could see all of the lights that were turned on.

“That is smart but also creepy at the same time.”

I chuckled. “Want me to turn them off?”

“No, it’s okay,” She tugged on her lower lip. “I need to finish my work on my notes for Austin. I have to send a draft to Hazel by tomorrow.”

“When is your flight?”

“Wednesday afternoon.”

I nodded, enjoying watching her relax more and more by the second.

“Why were you watching the India v Australia Test series?” Her eyes were filled with curiosity, and I smiled.

“I have a selection match in a month for the Ashes,” I replied, and her eyes trailed over my face. “The series is called the Border–Gavaskar Trophy. The last one took place in Australia, last December, and if Rihaan and I get selected, the Ashes would be the first one we play in January. We were just going over the plays the Aussies made to see the different advantages they had at home ground.”

“Is a selection match normal?”

I hesitated. “No. They used to before, but now the ECB, or the English Cricket Board, usually make a pick from the data they already have; they monitor the domestic matches and obviously the England Lions before they announce the squad.”

She frowned. “Then why do you have to do a match?”

“It’s not a formal match,” I muttered, unease settling in my stomach. “I was actually a part of the Performance Programme and even part of the Ashes squad last year as a development player. But I hadn’t gotten the chance to play.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“Two months later, I got in an accident,” I held her eye contact, and she froze, but now that I had started it, I needed to finish it. The urge to not relive the night crawled up my spine. “I’d gone home on the night of our ODI championship win to surprise my parents, who had missed my finals for the first time due to it clashing with my Dad’s medical appointment. But my Dad had lied to me; they’d already received his diagnosis, and they just didn’t want to tell me how bad it had gotten. It took me one look to know something was seriously wrong.”

Raina leaned forward and held my hand like she was trying to find a way to ground me, and that was all I needed to continue. “Before I had my car, I used to love riding my motorbike. I literally took that thing everywhere—it made me feel the thrill I felt when I was on the pitch—and that night, I’d gone home on my bike for the first time. But, after hearing that news, instead of staying home with them… I left. I was so frustrated with them hiding it from me, and maybe it was the adrenaline crashing or the hurt, but somewhere on the A3, I lost control and crashed.”

Her eyes were glassy as she let go of Milo and closed the gap between us.

She wrapped her frame around me, and a wave of calmness flowed through my veins, soothing every part of me as I slipped an arm around her.

I wiped the tear that had slipped down her cheek as I added. “I’m okay.”

We stayed like that for a while, drowning in the presence of each other. I needed the silence more than the words, and she understood that without me having to say it.

“What happened after the accident?”

“I managed to get out with a couple of fractures and bruises. I had my gear and it was only just a skid and slide. My injuries meant I could no longer tour with the team and make my debut, but my recovery is what set them back. I’d taken a long time to digest the news, but when Sean—my agent, got the whispers of the selectors monitoring my data during the last few matches of the County Championship, he went around me to my Dad to arrange this unofficial selectors match.”

She tugged on her lower lip before asking. “Have you driven a bike since?”

I shook my head. “I think my Mum would actually disown me if I touch a bike again.”

A pained laugh left her lips because, from one interaction, she’d realised that I wasn’t kidding, though it was mixed with a sense of relief. “We’ll just have to find you something else that makes you feel like that.”

I already have.

But I didn’t say that as she watched me with an unspoken question.

“What?” I asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Are you not happy that your agent did that?”

I paused. “I’m not not happy … It’s just that I didn’t earn it.”

“Yes, you did,” She frowned. “You said it yourself that they had been monitoring your stats, and you have an amazing career behind you to prove that you are talented. Sure, the match itself is an exception but did they promise you a place in the squad? No. They’re giving you a fair chance to show your skills. Plus, you were already selected by them once—so even if it’s ‘unauthorised’, they’re allowed to treat you differently because you are, but your last name doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

Everything in me stilled, and I felt my chest crack wide open before it was filled with a feeling I couldn’t explain as I stared at her. I had never felt it before, had never known what it was like to be slowly consumed by it. But now that I had felt it—felt it for her— I never wanted to go without it.