2. Ace
TWO
ACE
“Studying hard?” my pitcher, Riggs Valentine, says, startling me from where I have my face buried in my Kindle. We’re currently flying from Daytona to Philadelphia to kick off a new series. I was able to secure my spot in the Human Sexuality elective for the summer semester, but after flipping through the textbook a couple of times earlier today, I opted for a smutty romance novel instead. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this course to be as in-depth as it seems to be, but with a few days left before my first assignment is due, I’ll try again later. At least the people in my books use terms I can understand. All that scientific stuff doesn’t really make sense to me.
“Uh, yeah,” I stutter, clicking the power button and pulling up the generic screensaver I use so none of the guys see what I’m reading. I’m sure if they saw the covers of some of these books, I’d never live it down. I can only imagine the shit they’d give me if they saw me carrying around an e-reader with a picture of a shirtless dude on it. I’ll stick with the images that come preloaded on the device, thank you very much.
He plops down into the seat next to me, reclining back slightly. “Jacks said you’re taking Human Sexuality. That seems like a pretty easy class. Do you even need to look at the book for that, or can you just send video proof from any given Saturday night?”
I snap my head up to look at him, but recover quickly. I’ve never talked about my past with any of the guys, and I definitely don’t want to start now. Even though I’m still fresh meat, they’ve surprisingly welcomed me into their family already. But if they knew everything, they’d probably think twice about inviting me to go out with them. I’ve put on a good front that I’m just as much of a playboy as the rest of them, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Do I make out with girls on the dance floor? Hell yeah, I do. Kissing is one of my favorite pastimes. Sometimes I’ll let them grind on me for as long as I can take it before I come close to embarrassing myself, but that’s usually as far as it goes. I have more baggage than the cargo hold of this airplane, and I’d like to keep it locked up in the same vault it’s been in for the last three years.
I laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear how nervous I am about this even being the topic of our conversation. “Nah. I think I’m going to have to do the homework the old-fashioned way for this one.”
“At least it’s not something hard like calculus,” he says. “This won’t break your focus from the game. I need you sharp out there to make the right calls so I can look like a star.”
I chuckle. Riggs got himself into some trouble earlier this season, but now that his girlfriend, Monroe, is living with him in Daytona, he’s calmed down a lot. I’m not sure he really needs me to look like a star, but I’m happy he’s giving me some of the credit. It feels good to be a part of the team.
“Right,” I agree, resting my head back on my neck pillow and closing my eyes. Although I do need to keep my head in the game, he’s far from the truth in thinking this class will be a cakewalk for me. I definitely give off the impression that I know a lot more about human sexuality than I do, which will make passing a little more difficult. Hopefully, I can figure out a way to get this over with before it starts affecting the way I catch.
At twenty-one years old, I’m still young in this league, and I know my spot on the Fury roster is not guaranteed. There are plenty of other catchers who have more experience than I do, and if I lose the competitive edge that’s carried me this far, there’s a strong possibility I could see myself back in the minors. Since I was a kid, I’ve dedicated every waking moment to becoming the best, so that someday, I could make it to the MLB. It’s a dream to be here, and I can’t let any distractions get in my way. I just need to get through this class so I can graduate and focus on my career.
I have to admit that when I looked at the syllabus for the semester, I almost shit my pants. It’s taken me three years to get through a two-year degree because of how demanding my baseball schedule is, and that’s with classes that have three-month curriculums. This one still has the same amount of work, but the course only runs for six weeks. So, if I thought it was hard before, this is going to be nearly impossible.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to give up on graduating since I started. But I understand why it was so important to my grandmother that I see it through. When my mom had me, she was only sixteen years old. She dropped out of school before I was born, but for her, having a social life became more important than taking care of her son. She left me at home with her mom almost every weekend, until she finally moved out when she was eighteen. The problem was, she didn't want to take me with her.
My grandma stepped up, being the best parent she could possibly be. We lived just a couple hours from Daytona, in a small town where a lot of people never get the opportunity to leave. But from the very first t-ball game I played, I knew I wanted more—and she did everything she could to make it happen. Baseball is an expensive sport, so she had to work several odd jobs to pay for everything, and somehow still managed to make sure she never missed a game. Even though a career in the MLB was the only option I gave myself, she wanted me to have a backup plan. She agreed to continue to foot the bill for all my lessons, equipment and traveling fees as long as I promised to get a college degree, no matter what.
I could’ve given up after she passed away, but it just didn’t feel right. She bent over backward and worked her fingers to the bone to make sure she held up her end of the bargain—the least I could do was hold up mine. Plus, I was already almost there. The spring semester should’ve made me eligible for graduation, but the hiccup with my final elective was a setback I didn’t see coming.
I sit up, reach into my bag, and remove the Human Sexuality textbook again. Opening to chapter one, I get about three paragraphs in before the words start melting together in front of me. After closing my eyes tightly, I attempt once more to read through the cloudiness that seems to be overtaking the pages. I don’t know if it’s because I’m tired or if it’s just a lost cause, but I might end up needing some extra help to get through this. I’m not even off the first page, and none of the shit makes sense. Failure isn’t an option this time. I need to pass this class and finish school before it starts affecting my job.
That’ll have to be a problem for future Ace. Right now, I have a game to play.