Switch Pitching (Off the Bench #1)

16. James

16

JAMES

The crowd is almost silent, watching me with bated breath as I step onto the mound. The park is packed for our game against Philadelphia, and it’s electric. We’re holding a one-point lead, and I hold my breath.

Ethan is out in center field, ready and focused. I glance his way and nod before turning my attention to the batter. I’m in the zone, primed and ready.

Slowly, I wind up and release the pitch. The ball sails through the air, and the batter swings and misses. Strike one. The crowd cheers, and my adrenaline surges.

Foul. Ball. Foul. Another foul. The batter is acting increasingly frustrated, and on the last pitch, he strikes out.

Ruiz from Philadelphia steps up to bat next, and he’s good. I take another deep breath, blocking out everything around me.

I throw my best pitch. Ruiz swings, and there’s a sharp crack as the ball connects. It’s a fly ball, heading straight.

Ethan’s off like a shot, sprinting toward the ball with incredible speed. The ballpark holds a collective breath as he dives, his glove outstretched. There’s a second of silence, and then the roar of the crowd confirms that he’s caught it.

I want to pump my fist in the air, but I hold back because I don’t want to get ahead of myself. One more out. We just need one more out.

The next batter steps up, and I throw a series of pitches: two strikes and then a frustrating, never-ending string of fouls.

Finally, he swings and misses. Strike three. Game over.

The crowd explodes, and my teammates rush the field. Ethan’s the first to reach me, and I pull him into a hug.

“We did it!” he shouts.

His body, warm and solid, presses against mine and it grounds me. The noise of the crowd around me seems to taper off into a dull hum, and it’s just the two of us. Still holding onto his shoulders, I pull back and our eyes meet. There’s something intriguing there, but I brush it off. The roar of the park snaps back, and my mind goes elsewhere.

“Great catch, man,” I say, clapping him on the back.

Ethan smiles, his eyes glinting. “Thanks. Your pitching was on fire.”

The team gets wrapped up in congratulating ourselves as we head for the locker rooms. We’re all caught up in the win, and nobody can talk about anything else.

I step into a shower, letting the cool water wash the game dust away. We won tonight, but something is off. It’s strange, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

It’s gotta be the adrenaline.

As I finish up, I glance across the locker room and lock eyes with Ethan. He’s drying off, his hair tousled and damp. There’s a tired but satisfied expression on his face, and it’s infectious.

“Hey,” I call out, grabbing my towel. “You wanna head out?”

Ethan nods. “Yeah, I’m down.”

Ethan seems happy but subdued and I’m still buzzing. I just want to tackle Ethan and wrestle him, but not in public. That can wait for when we get home.

We make our way back to the apartment, and once we’re inside, Ethan flops down on the couch, stretching out with a sigh. I grab two glasses and pour some water for both of us, a sense of contentment washing over me.

Handing Ethan a glass, I sit down next to him, but before I know it, I jump up and straddle him, grinning as I gaze down at his face. “Come on, you’re hogging the couch,” I tease, trying to get a laugh out of him. I boop him on the nose with my finger for effect.

Ethan stiffens under me, his eyes widening. “James, what are you doing?”

“Just messing with you,” I say, ready to get off him and go watch TV. But then I notice his face, and my laughter dies down. Ethan isn’t amused. He’s something else entirely.

“James, I think we should talk,” he says, trailing off.

I slide off him and sit on the edge of the couch. “What’s up?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but there’s a knot forming in my stomach.

Ethan sits up, running a hand through his hair. He looks tortured, conflicted, and hurt. “I know you’re being friendly, but?—”

But what?

Ethan inhales sharply. “It’s confusing me. You get way too flirty and affectionate with me. I’m trying not to feel anything about it, but I don’t know what to think. It’s messing with my head.”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to mess with you.”

We sit in silence, and I can see the pain in Ethan’s expression. It’s like a punch to the gut.

I’ve always been affectionate, and it breaks me to know that this messed with Ethan. I hate seeing him like this.

Guilt rises in my stomach as I grapple with the weight of what I’ve done. I’m an idiot. Ethan’s gay. How could I be so stupid and flirt with him as a joke?

Ethan is staring at the wall and he’s holding back a ton of tears. Shit. I’d do anything to see him smile again, and I care about him so much it hurts. Ethan doesn’t deserve to be sad. He’s the kindest, most lovable dude I know.

“Ethan,” I start, reaching out for him as he turns his head toward me.

I don’t know what to say to make this better, and my first instinct is to hug him, but that just seems wrong. Instead, I keep my stance open to let Ethan make the next move, and he falls into me, his eyes closed. My arms circle his torso, and I pull his broad frame into me. The hug is tight and unyielding. His body fits against mine in a way that’s natural and comfortable. We’re so close right now and it’s almost overwhelming. I can smell his deodorant mixing with faint traces of the clubhouse shower gel, and it’s intoxicating.

I ease out of the hug, facing Ethan and letting myself gaze intently into his eyes. They’re so green and mesmerizing.

Mesmerizing? Since when do I think Ethan’s eyes are mesmerizing? I mean, it’s true, he’s got super pretty eyes, but that’s normal for someone like Ethan. He’s the most attractive person I know.

And then it hits me. Ethan is the most attractive person I know.

Something clicks, and it’s like my brain unlocks. I’m suddenly noticing a lot more about Ethan and fixating on tiny details. The way his soft t-shirt is hugging his muscular arms. The subtle dip of the fabric that falls between his pecs. His strong neck, his sharp jawline, and his defined, flushed face that’s contoured by tidy, two-day-old stubble.

“James,” stammers Ethan, piercing the silence. “Say something.”

He trails off, or at least I think he does because the second he spoke, my eyes centered on his mouth and the rest of my vision fell into a blur. All my attention went straight to his lips, and now I can’t focus on anything else. They look so soft.

And so irresistible.

Blood rushes in my ears as I close the space between us and crash my mouth onto his.

Ethan’s breath hitches. The moment our lips touch, it’s like the room shifts and my body takes over. Our kiss is soft and almost impossibly gentle, but it builds.

My mind, which is barely rational most of the time, isn’t keeping pace, and I’m way too into this. But as I open my mouth to take a breath, Ethan pulls away, and it takes every scrap of my self-control to not dive back in. He looks as shocked as I feel.

“Bad idea,” he mutters, his voice shaky. “Bad fucking idea.” He trails off, reaching down to pick at a loose thread in the couch fabric.

I scoot toward Ethan and he tilts his head up, neither of us knowing what to say. His face shifts between a dozen expressions before he opens his mouth, slowly, to break the silence.

“James,” he starts. “You should get some sleep. You can blame this on having a few drinks and we can move on.”

“I didn’t have anything to drink,” I say firmly. It’s impossible to tear my eyes away from Ethan’s soft, full lips that were brushing against mine only a few seconds ago. He parts them slightly to take in a ragged breath, and another surge of energy runs through me.

Ethan closes his mouth, forming a firm, straight line, and I swear I’ve never seen anything so enticing before. My insides twist with confusion and a desperate urge to return to what we were just doing.

The couch is rough beneath my knees as I shuffle even closer toward Ethan. “What happened was amazing, and I want to kiss you again.”

Ethan jolts his head back at me, and I see the slightest hints of a confused smile appear at the corners of his beautiful mouth as he nods. I don’t need anything else, and I lunge forward, wrapping my fingers around the back of Ethan’s head to pull him into me. Our mouths collide once more, the tense knot in my stomach bursting open to release a tidal wave of pure heat.

Ethan reaches an arm around my back and pulls me in while tracing circles inside my mouth. I wrap my tongue around his and it’s like we fuse together. Our first kiss was gentle, but this one is raw and intense. My hands travel down Ethan’s back, my fingers firmly squeezing the hard, textured wall of muscle.

I let out a weak moan, which brings me back to reality.

What the hell is going on?

I’m kissing my best friend. That’s what’s going on.

Ethan’s tongue flicks between my lips, and just like that, I’m swept up. This is so different from any kiss I’ve experienced before, and it isn’t just because Ethan’s facial hair is scratching my upper lip. It’s so hot, and I can’t ignore my rapidly hardening dick as I continue to lose myself in Ethan.

This feels so right.