Chapter 30 Shane
THIRTY
SHANE
I ease off second, giving myself a healthy lead.
I got myself a nice little double, and now Olander’s up to bat.
I have two stolen bases already this game.
I’m ready to make it three. This pitcher’s motion is slow, and I’m speedy as all hell, so my coaches have been giving me the green light all night.
My eyes are trained on my third base coach.
No sign.
The pitch comes in.
Foul ball.
I retreat back to the base, then dance off the bag again once the pitcher gets set, attention flicking between him and my coach.
Go.
I explode toward third, feet pounding the dirt, arms pumping, head low. Mine, mine, mine. This base is mine. I slide, dirt spraying up as my foot slams into the base. The third baseman’s glove slaps down on me. I wink up at him. Nice try, bro.
I pop up and dust myself off.
Woo boy! Three stolen bases. Icing on this amazing cake of a week. Everything is back to right. Almost feels like Groundhog Day. Take two of Shane and Jed. We haven’t had a chance to hook up since the backseat of his Range Rover, but we’ve had some ridiculously hot video calls.
Paulie and Easton have been teasing me mercilessly for how easily I fell back on Jed’s dick. But, like, can you blame a guy? I was just given my new toy back. Let me playyyy.
Though I wouldn’t say no to some hanging out sans sex. Maybe. My dick disagrees. But certain things in my chest are really hoping this can turn into something more than shared orgasms.
Another ball, and I shuffle back near the bag.
I’m really going to be good, though. I plan to invite Jed over to our apartment tonight.
Frankie’s gone for a client meeting, so it’ll just be people Jed’s familiar with.
Plus, Frankie’s a lot, and I don’t want to scare Jed away.
Ease him into our chaos slowly. I really, really want him to like our chaos.
It’s just…Jed is so solitary and serious.
It’ll be fine. He seems to like me, and I’m my own brand of crazy. At least when it comes to sex. Remove sex, and does he still?
What a question. One that’s spinning around inside me like an out-of-control top. Because no one’s ever wanted more that that before. I’m at risk of jumping out of my skin. I need to fucking run.
I creep off third. Olander blasts a high fly to right. I jog back to the base, gaze trained on the ball. The right fielder’s coming in for it. It’s not too shallow, though.
“Read it!” Coach calls from behind me.
My decision. This guy’s got an arm. But it’s no match for me. Not right now. Not when adrenaline and anxiety are coursing through my veins like jet fuel. I set. This bag is a sprinter’s block to me.
Clean catch.
I bolt. The throw comes screaming, but my feet are fire.
The ball’s spinning. Spinning. Spinning toward the catcher’s mitt.
I can sense it—baseball and I are that in sync—he’s got the time to make the tag.
But I know how to get by him without giving him a chance.
I drop into a slide and soar outside the plate, arm darting out in a swipe so fast the catcher has no fucking hope. I spin to standing in one smooth move.
Slappin’ the fucking base, man. Or I guess I should say slappin’ the plate.
I tip my imaginary cap to the stands and walk toward the dugout of my cheering teammates.
And that, folks, is how it’s done.
I jog down the steps and am assaulted by back and helmet slaps and high fives.
When I reach Paulie, he picks me up and spins me around. “Fuck yes, man! That was like watching poetry.”
“Poetry in motion!” another one of my teammates yells.
“Someone’s gotta bring some fucking grace to this sport.” I grin and pull off my helmet.
I shake out my hair, and my attention falls on Jed. His lips are fighting a smile, but his dark eyes don’t stand a chance. They glow.
He crosses his arms and lifts a brow. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?”
“He is!” someone calls out.
“Not think. Know.” I wink and wave a hand at our cheering teammates as proof. I settle next to him, resting my arms on the rail.
Jed rolls his eyes, but his small smile totally ruins the effect. “You really need someone to put you in your place.”
“You volunteering?” I murmur.
He drops his head into his hands on the rail, his back shaking with mirth. He peeks at me. What am I supposed to do with you, glimmers back at me. He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to.
“Wanna come over tonight?” I blurt.
He chokes. Then dissolves into laughter.
I frown at him. “Not nice, Stone.”
He composes himself and gives me an indulgent smile. “It’s just amazing to me how you can do something like that”—he waves toward the plate—“so fucking smooth, and then assault me with that question with all the finesse of a bulldozer.”
I lift a shoulder. “I like to keep ‘em guessing. You never know if you’re going to get smooth Shane or sloppy Shane.”
“They’re both pretty awesome,” he says quietly. “Yeah. I’ll hang tonight.”
I’m sure my smile is blinding, because there’s no way the sparks setting off inside me aren’t visible.
There’s a knock on the door, and I freeze.
Oh my God. He’s here.
I start running around the kitchen. Is everything in its place? I cleaned this place from top to fucking bottom when I got home from our afternoon game. I’m opening cabinets, and I have no fucking idea why.
“Jesus Christ.” Paulie’s amused exclamation fills the kitchen. He grabs my shoulders and points to the table. “Sit.”
I do as I’m told.
Paulie goes and answers the door while my foot taps an erratic rhythm.
Jed’s “nice place” drifts into the room.
His gaze lands on me and I barely, barely prevent myself from waving over-enthusiastically Forest Gump style.
And only because I’m holding onto the wooden seat.
I am so hopped up from excitement I probably should have taken a Benadryl. Or an elephant tranquilizer.
He walks over, and damn, he looks good. Gooder than usual. Like maybe he put in extra effort? That skin-tight waffle shirt is fucking doing it for me. His biceps are bitable. But I’m not biting anything tonight. Nope. Gonna be such a good boy. Self-control is my middle name.
He stops in front of me. “Hey.”
My fingers tighten around the seat of the chair. “Hi.”
“Why are you holding onto that seat like it’s a life raft?”
Be cool, Shane.
“No reason.” I slowly stand, even though my insides are bouncing around like ping-pong balls. “So, ah…welcome to our humble abode. I’ll give you a quick tour.”
I backtrack toward the entryway and show him where the bathroom is really quick. “So, kitchen and living room are pretty self-explanatory. My room is back by the front door. Then the rest of the rooms are up the stairs.”
“So, this is Paulie’s brother’s place?” Jed asks.
I lead him up the stairs. “Yeah. Frankie is an actuarial consultant. I have no idea what that means, but I know there are numbers involved, that he’s super fucking smart, and makes good money. He’s giving us a steal on rent.”
Like the three of us just split the utilities, and we don’t actually pay anything toward rent. Which is really fucking fortunate considering we make jack all shit for salary.
We reach the top of the stairs, and I point to the bedroom in front of us.
“East’s room.” Then throw my thumb over my shoulder.
“Another bathroom, Paulie’s room, and then Frankie’s room at the end.
” I walk toward the door that’s directly in front of the stair landing.
I push through it. “And this is our small balcony.”
There’s a small corner couch and table, which takes up pretty much all the space.
“This is a nice space. I’d spend a lot of time out here.”
I had the same thought. It’s peaceful out here. Calming. Like the guy standing next to me. I could see us kicking back up here. It’s cozy and does end up being a couple’s corner for the ones who live here. My gaze traces over Jed’s moonlit features, down his jaw and over his lips. I…get the appeal.
My body buzzes with the need to kiss him. I move toward him but hesitate. It’s going to be game over the minute I touch him.
He takes a step toward me, then reaches up and tugs on my topknot. Oh, right. I pull it out and send him a smile. “Forgot I had that in.” I’d thrown it up when I was cleaning. I scrub my hands through my hair and shake it out.
“I like it.”
“Yeah?” Woof, that sounded eager.
His huff of laughter confirms it. “I like it down because I like sinking my hands in it.” He tugs on a wave. “But, yeah, I like it up too.” His gaze sweeps over my face. “I can see more of you that way.”
Oh. Damn. “That was, like, real smooth, Pebs,” I whisper.
“Pebbles do tend to be that way.”
A surprised laugh bursts from me. “Sweet talking and joking? I have no hope.”
He studies me, lips curved in the smallest hint of a smile. “No hope for what?”
Preventing myself from falling for you.
Somehow I manage to keep that as an inside thought.
“Pizza’s here!” Easton’s muffled yell filters through the crack in the door.
Saved by the East. “We should head back.”
Jed smiles knowingly at me. “Yeah.”
We all settle at the kitchen table and devour our pizza. Even East, since it’s his cheat day. Most of our talk revolves around today’s game and how the Jetties are doing.
“Heard any whispers of when you could get the call-up?” Paulie asks Jed.
Jed shakes his head. “No. Sanders is having a good year, so I might be waiting until next year.”
“His bat is pretty cold, though,” I point out between a bite of my last Hawaiian slice. “If they need the bat, it’s a no-brainer to call you up. You’re seeing everything right now.” It’s hot as fuck. Every time he hits a home run, I want to jump him. Apparently, home runs make me horny.
“Is that actually good?” Jed asks, his nose turned up as he stares at my slice.
I groan. “Not another hater. I swear the only person here who’s on my side is Frankie.”
Something flickers across Jed’s face. “Can I try it?”