1. Ari
one
Ari
Cole
Dude, where are you?
You were supposed to meet us ten minutes ago
Shit.
I completely lost track of time.
I’ll blame Taylor, whose bed I’m still lying in. Couldn’t help but get distracted.
We had a hell of a good time this past hour.
“Well,” I say, standing up and looking around the room for where we threw my clothing. “I’m late to meet up with my friends, so it’s been fun, but it’s time for me to go.”
I find my boxers on the dresser, so I quickly grab them and slip them on while Taylor sits up on the bed. “You’re going to leave already?”
I spot my jeans by the window and head in that direction next. “Uh, yeah,” I answer.
“You don’t have to run off the moment we finish.”
I roll my eyes as I button my jeans. “I just said I’m late to meet up with my friends. Even if I wasn’t, though, I’d still be gone. We both know why I’m here, Taylor.” I find my T-shirt by the door and walk toward it, ready to get the hell out of there.
Seems like I found myself a clinger tonight.
“Nothing like being used,” Taylor chides.
I cross my arms over my now-covered chest. “I was explicitly clear about what this was before I agreed to come back with you. I’m not using you because expectations were set.”
“So, is this what you do? You just have sex and then fuck off to the next person?”
I’m growing more irritated by the second.
I have got to stop thinking with my dick so often.
“You agreed to this. Don’t act like I’m the bad guy.”
Taylor levels me with a stern look. “Maybe I should just go to the media. Let everyone know what Ari Morgan likes in the bedroom.”
Scratch being irritated—I’m fucking pissed now.
“The NDA you signed says you can’t.” I snag my jacket off the chair in the corner and finally open the door to the tiny studio apartment in SoHo. “Thanks for a good night, but don’t forget that’s legally binding. Wouldn’t want to tie you up in court just because you’re unhappy about a quick fuck.”
I hear Taylor grumble as I let the door fall shut behind me, and then I’m off to the stairwell, heading out into the cool November evening.
Thankfully, the bar I’m meeting the guys at is just a few blocks away.
It may be dark outside now, but I still pull my hood over my head so I don’t attract attention.
New York City has eight million people, and I’m a very well-known face.
I’m the first baseman for the New York Stars, our professional baseball team. My friends and I all play for the team, so we’re recognized everywhere we go.
The Stars are beloved in this city, especially after the team brought home the World Series pennant two years ago.
Fuckers did that without me, though, because I was still playing in Atlanta at the time.
And I’ll give you one guess as to what team the Stars beat to take the championship.
I signed with the team a couple of months after that, wanting to leave Atlanta and play with my old teammate, Cole Pierce.
He and I played together on the Kansas Huskers and their triple-A team for a couple of seasons before we went to other teams, and it’s been great to play with him again.
As the shortstop and the first baseman, Cole and I have a good relationship on the field.
On first base, I have to be ready to catch every ball lobbed at me when the batter hits it onto the field.
Since the shortstop is the one who fields a lot of those balls, I have to be ready for every ball Cole throws my way.
And he’s got one hell of an arm.
I work with the rest of the team, too, obviously, but it’s Cole I work most often with on the field.
I round the corner and finally make it to the bar.
Nearly thirty minutes late, but hey, at least I’m here.
I spot the guys at a booth in the back, so after I grab a beer from the bartender, I walk back to join them.
“He’s alive!” Lane laughs as I slide in beside Cole.
Lane Brooks is our center fielder and probably the best girl dad there’s ever been.
He was a single father to his daughter, Sage, for years when he met her ballet teacher, Olive, last fall.
Man fell head over heels so fast. But he finally found the mother his daughter always deserved, and he’s been so damn happy.
Sage’s nanny is one of our other friends, Rory. She ended up marrying Cole a couple of years ago. The fallout after that was a shitshow because Rory is our Field Manager Paul Fisher’s daughter, but he came around.
“Fuck off,” I chide, taking a sip of my beer.
“Whose bed were you in this time?” That comes from Josh Garro, our third baseman. He married his wife, Ella, right before I signed with the team.
“Taylor,” I shrug, not giving any more information than that. Cole looks at me curiously because he knows what it means when I don’t say anything else.
He’s the only one who knows.
“It’s a wonder your dick doesn’t fall off with how often you use it,” Knox chuckles.
Knox Spencer is our ace pitcher and one of the best starting pitchers in the entire league.
Also, one of the only ones that throws a knuckleball.
He apparently used to be a grumpy fucker, but then he started fake dating Cole’s sister, Harlow, of all people.
The Pierce siblings are sunshine incarnate, so it’s not surprising that she softened him, and that relationship turned real.
Now they’re getting married in a couple of months.
I’m the last single one of us.
And since I don’t do relationships at all, that’s the way it’s going to stay.
“You use your dick just as often when you fuck Cole’s sister.”
Cole throws his head back and groans. “Ari, what the fuck?”
I smirk at him. “I’m not wrong, though.”
Knox laughs and rolls with it. “I guess I can’t really deny that.”
Cole smacks him with his hat. “Dude, shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear what you do to my sister.”
“Is Lo excited about the wedding?” Josh asks.
“She can’t wait,” Knox smiles. “Neither can I. I can’t fucking wait to marry her.”
“Fort Knox, the romantic,” Lane teases with a playful smile.
“Fuck off, Brooks. You learned ballet for your girl. I don’t want to hear a damn thing.”
Lane throws his head back and laughs. “Are you guys still coming to dinner tomorrow?”
“Like hell we’d miss that,” I say. “We’re proud of your girl.”
He smiles brightly. “So am I. She got her GED, and she’s ready to start her life.”
None of us knows what Olive has been through besides Lane. All we know is that she was seventeen and dropped out of high school. The rest is her story to tell if she ever decides.
“Should be a fun night,” Cole says before pointing his look at me. “And Lucia will be there.”
I groan. These four are fucking relentless. They all know that Lucia and I don’t like each other, though they don’t know why. Lucia never wanted to admit that I caught Matt flirting with another woman, and I wasn’t going to air her dirty laundry.
Though I will say I’m glad she’s rid of the fucker now. I hate that I was right, but it’s nice to not see his face anymore.
“Of course, Lucia is going to be there,” I remark. “She’s one of Liv’s best friends. But it would be so nice if one day you could all give up on whatever fantasy you have of the two of us.”
Cole laughs heartily. “It’s not a fantasy. It’s just fun to fuck with you because you’ve done that to me for the past seven years.”
I sigh and take another large gulp of my beer.
Clearly, all those times I messed with Cole have come back to bite me in the ass because there’s no end in sight for this Lucia shit.