12. Nico
twelve
Nico
As the pitcher for the Chicago Grizzlies winds up for the pitch, I sense the catcher adjust his position behind me.
It’s a tell.
The pitcher is about to throw some serious heat.
I tuck the wad of cinnamon gum between my teeth, in my cheek, and take a deep breath. My blood pressure spikes as I watch the fastball rush towards me. Weight in my back leg, I eye the ball, timing it just right, and swing.
The ball hits my bat with a crack. The vibrations radiate through my forearms, and I can feel it…
That baby is gone.
As I knew it would, the ball soars over the right field fence and into the stands. The stadium erupts in cheers at the two-run homer I just hit.
We are on fire tonight. The score is now 16-1 at the bottom of the eighth inning.
It started in the third inning when Reed pulled off an amazing diving catch.
The play lit a fire under our asses, and we’ve been unstoppable since.
Both Cam and Lance have hit dingers, and almost every guy on the team has gotten a hit.
It’s early in the season, but if we keep this up, we’ll have another World Series in the bag.
As I cross home plate, I’m greeted by Taylor and McKay for high fives. Blake stands at the end, and I’m already laughing as he jerks off his bag of sunflower seeds. He pretends the bag explodes and sends seeds flying all over me.
It’s simultaneously disgusting and fucking hilarious.
I point to the crowd in thanks, and they go wild, screaming and chanting my last name. It’s the sweetest fucking sound. Dedication and hard work have brought me to this moment in time, and I would do it all again.
Every time I step onto the field, my dreams come true.
As I enter the dugout, the rest of the team claps me on the back and ass, congratulating me on the home run.
“Good job, Romero. Keep it up.” Coach Anson is beaming behind his bushy mustache.
“With pleasure, Skip.” I take a seat beside Heath, and massage my hands and forearms. Adrenaline courses through me and makes my hands shake.
“Felt that, didn’t you?” Heath asks.
“Fucking right I did. Saw that fastball coming a mile away.” Once I give my hands a good rub, I reach for my gear and start buckling on my leg pads.
“Good eye, man. It was perfection.”
“Thanks, H. Your double in the fifth was fucking fire.” I chat some more with Heath while I get ready for the final inning, which passes by in three quick outs.
Back in the locker room, the guys are floating as we get cleaned up.
“After that game, I need to burn off some energy.” McKay strips out of his uniform and wraps a towel around his waist. “Dinner at STK and a booth at Catch 22?”
“That’s code for ‘Reed wants to get laid’.” Blake’s eyes gleam mischievously.
“Who’s coming with me?” Reed turns to our first baseman. “Taylor?”
Lance looks across the room at the Evaders’ marketing intern, Gwen.
The first day I met Gwen, she strong-armed me into letting her run my socials. She had just returned from getting a master’s in marketing to work as Cam’s assistant and as the team’s intern, looking to prove herself.
She’s beautiful and assertive. And daughter of the Evaders’ owner, Ted Montgomery.
Gwen is amazing at what she does and should be running the whole Evaders’ marketing department.
Since I kicked Damien to the curb, she’s been my lifesaver. She’s kept me afloat, making sure my visibility stays up and my sponsorships are happy.
I smirk to myself, thinking about what’s in store for Damien. That jackass underestimated me. I wonder if he’s hired a lawyer yet and if said lawyer has found the fine print in our business contracts.
Gwen laughs at something the junior physical trainer, Dougie, says, and I watch the skin between Lance’s brows pinch in frustration.
Lance jumps out of his chair and grabs his gym bag. “Yeah. Fuck it. I’m in.”
Cam puts a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Dude, Lance, are you sure?”
We’ve all suspected that something happened between Lance and Gwen, but none of us has said a thing about it. Everyone knows it’s an unwritten rule that the owner’s daughter is off limits.
Lance glances back at Gwen and then shakes his head like he’s trying to clear whatever he was thinking from his mind. “I’m sure. Let’s fucking do this.”
“Fuck yes.” Reed looks at me. “Romero?”
“What about me?” I rip off my jersey and slip off my chain, placing them both in my locker.
“Are you in or what?” Reed asks impatiently.
As I mull over the idea of hitting up the club, Savannah’s pretty face and fiery eyes pop into my head. Without trying, she’s dug her claws deep into my psyche. This isn’t the first time my thoughts have drifted towards the combative woman with the killer curves.
I don’t know what it means, or if what I’m feeling is just lust or something more. But right now, I’d rather go home and catch a glimpse of her than have random women shoving their fake tits in my face.
“Count me out, boys. My knees feel like shit tonight.” It’s half a lie. My knees always hurt, but that has never stopped me from going out and partying with the guys. But the guys don’t look like the pretty brunette next door.
“Seriously? What the fuck, Romero? You got a chick we don’t know about?” Blake asks in confusion.
My brain conjures up images of Savannah waiting for me at home, wearing nothing but my jersey. Fuck, that’s new and honestly doesn’t sound too bad. I shake my head free of the vision.
“Nope. Just not feeling it. It’s fucking Wednesday. Only sad chicks going through a breakup or cleat chasers are partying on a Wednesday night. I don’t feel like working that hard, so I’ll pass.”
The guys burst out laughing at my astute observation.
“Whatever you say, Grandpa,” Reed jokes. He bends over and holds his back as he pretends to limp towards the showers.
“Hey. You didn’t ask me?” Blake shouts at his back.
Reed whips around and chucks a wad of medical tape at him. “I don’t need to ask you, numb-nuts. I know your horny ass is in.”
“It’s true.” Blake chuckles as he rubs his hands together like a hunter looking for his next kill. Idiot. “I’m horny as fuck. I’m thinking…” He tilts his head back and forth. “Redhead tonight.”
Cam casually leans back and kicks his legs up onto the shelf in his locker. “I’m so fucking glad to be done with the clubs. I have a gorgeous wife at home, waiting for me.”
“Good answer.” I scowl at Cam, who barks a laugh.
Reed whips his wet towel at Cam’s feet with a snap. “Brownnoser.”
“Fuck, that hurt.” Cam rubs his foot and grumbles, “I can’t wait for a woman to come along and flip you ass over feet.”
“You take that shit back before I catch your disgusting monogamy germs.” Reed shivers in mock disgust.
“You’re missing out,” Heath says. He bumps knuckles with Cam, who agrees.
I sit with the guys for another minute before forcing myself into a quick shower.
Tonight is my turn to do the post-game interviews, so I have to hurry and go sit in front of the cameras.
While I go through the motions, answering reporters’ questions from muscle memory, my brain only has one thing on its mind.
Savannah Winters.