11. Lance
eleven
Lance
Present
The batter swings and hits the ball with a crack toward our shortstop, Reed, who is ready and waiting between second and third base.
He reaches across his body and catches the ball off a big bounce at the edge of the infield grass, and in a flawless move that happens in the blink of an eye, Reed grabs the ball from his glove and whips it toward first.
I’m there, glove extended, waiting to catch the ball.
The opposing team’s player’s speed is no match for the rocket fired from my teammate. The ball hits my glove with a pop before the runner’s foot hits the bag. The umpire calls him out, ending the inning.
The crowd cheers as my teammates and I celebrate our victory against the Chicago Grizzlies. We destroyed them 16–1 tonight. Cameron, Nico, and I cranked out a home run each, and combined with how the rest of my teammates made some amazing hits, we were unstoppable.
After a round of on-field interviews with the sponsoring sports broadcasting channel, I make my way to the locker room. I enjoy doing live after-the-game interviews. Unlike the press room interviews, these are short and sweet.
I walk into a buzzing locker room. Music is blaring, and the guys are laughing and dancing around. All my teammates are riding high after our win.
“That was fucking awesome, my guys!” Reed is boasting, as he should. He had an incredible game, starting with a phenomenal diving catch during the top of the third inning. His amazing play will be on baseball highlight reels forever.
I take the seat in front of my locker and half listen to my close friends—Reed, Blake, Heath, Cam, and Nico—chat about the game as I search out the woman I have no business looking for.
My heart pinches in my chest the moment I lay eyes on her. Gwen is standing in the corner of the locker room, with her phone out, taking a video of our backup catcher, Lucas Snell, as she asks him questions.
Fucking Snell.
He says something that makes Gwen laugh, and I bristle at their closeness. Cam was right; that motherfucker wants Gwen. The idea of her and him together makes me sick with jealousy. She isn’t mine. Which I made abundantly clear to her, so I have no right to feel any kind of way about her dating.
But I do.
Aside from doing the PR stuff she wanted me to do, I haven’t spoken to Gwen in weeks. Not since I was in her office. And she was absolutely right; I was hard.
As a fucking rock.
I have never in my life wanted a woman more than I want her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and she asserted herself, refusing to tolerate my rudeness and disrespect.
At night, when I replay that moment in my head, instead of walking out of her office I imagine pushing her up against the wall and kissing her, then swiping the box of donuts and camera equipment off the desk so I can lay her on top and feast on her pussy before bending her over and showing her exactly how fucking hard she makes me.
“You’re staring again,” Cam whispers to me, pulling me out from under Gwen’s spell. I frown at Cam, and he chuckles, shaking his head at me. “Deny it all you want; I know something happened between you two. Want to tell me about it?”
The truth is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. “No, because nothing happened.”
Maybe if I say it enough, it will turn into the truth.
“Want to hear my theory?” Cam asks.
“Sure, Einstein. What have you conjured up in that gigantic head of yours?” I lean over, untie my cleats, and chuck them into the bottom of my locker.
“I think you two hooked up. Don’t know when, but I’m guessing before the season.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Cam claps his hands with a chuckle.
“I’m not answering your asinine question.” Ignoring my friend, I untuck then unbutton my shirt, pulling it off and chucking it in the laundry.
“Ignore me all you want, but I know I’m right.” Cam grabs his phone and starts typing. If I know him, and I do, he’s texting his wife. The lucky bastard.
“After that game, I need to burn off some energy,” McKay shouts. He’s really amped now. He strips off his uniform and gets ready to take a shower. “Dinner at STK and a booth at Catch 22?”
“That’s code for ‘Reed wants to get laid,’” Blake jokes.
“Who’s coming with me?” Reed turns to me. “Taylor?”
I don’t know why, but my eyes dart to Gwen across the locker room. She’s so damn beautiful, and everyone sees it too. Snell is long gone, only to be replaced by the junior physical trainer, Dougie. The two of them chat and laugh about who knows what.
A piece of me wants to march over there, throw Gwen over my shoulder, and carry her out of here so I can keep her all to myself. But I can’t.
She’s the owner’s daughter.
I have dedicated my life to baseball. I’ve let down my father, my brother, and probably my grandfather if he were still alive, when I decided to play ball instead of joining the service like them. Dad still hasn’t forgiven me. Only my mother and grandmother have given me that grace.
Now here I am, thinking about jeopardizing my career for a woman. Being with Gwen is a tremendous risk. I could lose everything, and I’ve already lost enough in my life.
If only I had a crystal ball that could tell me if we would work out. If the risk would be worth the reward.
It would be, the voice in my head whispers as the ache in my chest grows unbearable.
Why the fuck does it have to be her making me feel like this? The one woman I can’t have. Maybe I need to find someone else to help me move on.
The words move on bounce around in my head as I tear my eyes away from Gwen.
“Yeah. Fuck it. I’m in.”
Cam puts a hand on my arm. “Dude, are you sure?”
I look back at Gwen to find her walking out of the locker room, face down, staring at her phone, as Dougie trails behind her. “I’m sure. Let’s fucking do this.”
“Fuck yes. Romero?” Reed asks Nico.
“What about me?” Nico takes off his jersey and chain, hanging them both in his locker. He’s been dodgy lately. I would be, too, if my childhood best friend betrayed me. I’d probably be home plotting my revenge if I were him.
“Are you in or what?” Reed asks impatiently.
“Count me out, boys. My knees feel like shit tonight.” Nico looks away, and I know he’s lying. But I keep my mouth shut. I don’t like people in my business either.
“Seriously? What the fuck, Romero? You got a chick we don’t know about?” Blake asks in confusion.
The image of Nico on his phone while we were on the road last week pops into my head. He’s not one to be on his phone for more than a second, so it makes sense. I wouldn’t put it past him if he were seeing someone.
“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,” Nico answers coolly.
Blake and Reed burst out laughing as a lead weight settles in my stomach.
The last thing I want to do is meet someone who is more into my status and bank account.
I did that already, and that’s not what I’m looking for now.
Not that I know what I’m looking for, but it’s for sure not a superficial relationship.
“Whatever you say, Grandpa,” Reed teases, hobbling around like an old man as he limps toward the showers.
“Hey. You didn’t ask me?” Blake shouts at Reed’s back.
Reed tosses a wad of medical tape at his head. “I don’t need to ask you, numbnuts. I know your horny ass is in.”
“It’s true. I’m horny as fuck. I’m thinking …” Blake weighs his imaginary lady options silently. “Redhead tonight.”
Cam smugly 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,” Nico snipes back, causing Cam to crack up.
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. The two of them are both married to amazing women. You can feel the love pouring off them whenever they are together.
As I stare at the empty doorway, I can’t help thinking I might be missing out on that too.
Why the fuck did I agree to go out with these two?
I’m sitting in the back of Reed’s G-Wagon on the way to the club as they bicker in the front seat over the music. We just left the restaurant, where we grabbed a couple of steaks for dinner, and are cruising through the city.
The streetlights whiz by as Reed speeds down the streets of Hollywood. I hate to admit it, but I’m sulking as I stare out of the window, watching the city pass by in a blur of lights.
I regret not calling a car and getting a ride home. This whole idea of going to the club feels immature and ridiculous.
Blake lowers the radio and twists his body in the passenger seat to face me. “Yo, Lancey-pooh. What’s up with you and Gwen?”
Shock shoots through me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention at the mention of me and Gwen. “What?”
“What is up with you and Gwen?” he repeats his question.
“Nothing.”
Reed, the big oaf, guffaws at my answer. Normally I love my buddy, but he can be a nosy fucker, and I know he put Blake up to this.
“Dude, you stare at her all the time. And it’s not the normal ‘oh, she’s hot’ kind of look; it’s the look of someone in—” He stops, tapping his chin in thought.
“Love. Bro, you look at Gwen like you’re in love with her,” Reed finishes Blake’s sentence, knocking me on my ass.
Love? I look at Gwen as if I’m in love with her.
No. No fucking way.
“Exactly. That’s some Cam shit right there.” Blake clasps his hands and holds them to his chest as he makes a face. I know he’s trying to pretend he’s in love, but he just looks constipated.
“Fuck off. I don’t do that.” I scoff, and my friends laugh at me.
“Yes, you do,” Blake doubles down.
“I do?” I ask, the words tumbling out of me.
Do I look at her like that?
My brain flips through all the times I’ve watched her from afar. Cam also said something like that to me in the locker room, but I didn’t believe him.
If these two—who half of the time do nothing but joke around and talk about getting laid—noticed, has Gwen? Has Coach Anson? Ted?
Fuck.
“You do, and we all see it,” Reed answers me. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he continues to drive toward the club.
“Well, everyone but Snell, because he’s looking at her the same way,” Blake says as he turns around in his seat and turns the radio back up as though he didn’t just punch me in the gut.
This time, jealousy isn’t the emotion that clogs my throat; it’s regret.
And that’s confusing as fuck.