Chapter Five
Ryker
T oday is my favorite day of the year—the start of spring training.
I woke up early, got a run in before seven, and made breakfast for myself before my teammates woke up.
All the junior and senior players on the team live in a house just off campus. It’s become a tradition over the years. It once started as a way for the guys on the team to bond to increase fluidity and trust within the group, and it hasn’t stopped since.
After I shower, I grab my iPad, where I worked on a design for my digital art class. Once I submit it, I start on the tattoo design for Theo—a shoulder piece that features an interconnected series of lines that look pretty fucking cool if I say so myself—until it’s finally time to head downstairs and round up the guys to leave for practice.
As soon as my feet hit the last step, Noah is on me. “Dude, you made pancakes this morning and didn’t think to leave extra for us?” he complains.
“You can make your own food.”
“Not even the first day of spring training can make this guy smile,” Cuddy, a new addition to the team whom I actually like, chimes in .
“Get used to it, newbie,” Noah huffs dramatically.
Honestly, it’s kind of a game to me now. I try my best to purposely not smile because I know it drives them insane. The only time they’ll catch me with a smile on my face is when we’re on the diamond and kicking ass.
Then my pearly whites make a fucking statement out there.
“Practice starts in an hour. Let’s go,” I shout, clapping my hands and doing my best to rally the team together.
Eventually, all eight of us make it out of the house, splitting up into two cars to drive to the facility since it’s cold as fuck outside. My body itches with excitement as we park a few minutes later and make our way inside. It’s finally time to play ball.
There’s nothing that fuels me the way this sport does. It fills my body with adrenaline and joy every time my cleats hit the field.
My goal is to go pro by the end of graduation, and my prospects are looking pretty good. My agent has been in talk with recruiters over the past three years, and every time, he’s mentioned that they have their eye on the third baseman who has a wicked arm and is even better at bat.
This is my year. I can feel it. Drafting happens in July and I’m working my ass off to be a first pick.
The locker room is loud and boisterous as I come in and reunite with other teammates I haven’t seen much during the winter break because of our hectic class schedules. We’re like a family, and even though they all piss me off at times, our bond runs deep.
Coach Warren walks through the door, instantly quieting the group of rowdy men. He came to RLU a few years ago and has produced some of the greatest players in MLB history throughout his coaching career. He’s a force to be reckoned with, hence why we all shut the hell up instantly when he walks through the door.
He gives us a spiel about the upcoming season, what he expects from us, and what the training schedule will be like for the next two weeks.
“We leave on March eighteenth for an exhibition game against the University of New Mexico,” he announces, eliciting a grumble from Noah.
“You got a problem with that, Noah?” Coach calls him out.
Noah straightens, clearing his throat. “No, sir. It’s just… that’s my girl’s and my anniversary.”
“Son, if there’s something you and your girl need to learn now is that if you plan to have a career in baseball, you will be gone for important things. You’ll miss birthdays, graduations—hell, maybe even the birth of your kid. It’s what we do for the game.”
Noah tightens his jaw but nods, not commenting back. Coach Warren isn’t the sentimental type, and I agree with everything he said.
It’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to make.
“Anything else anyone wants to whine about?” Coach asks with a bushy eyebrow raised. When there’s no response, he continues, “Good. One more thing before I send you guys to the weight room.”
“We have a new journalist working with the team this year. They will be doing their usual duties, but this year will be a different approach. They’ll also be attending away games along with doing some behind the scenes for the school’s social media page.”
Thank God. I fucking hated Jimmy. He always tried to get me to sit for an interview, only to stray away from baseball, which is why he never got more than a few words from me. I’m happy to see him go.
Coach’s face turns serious, his arms crossing over his chest. “If any of you harass her, I will personally see to kicking your ass myself, got it? I expect all of you to make her feel comfortable and welcome to RLU baseball. ”
Her?
I begin to wonder who she could be when the door opens, answering my question.
Camille .
This has to be some kind of joke. I’ve successfully avoided her since Halloween—well, just her presence because she hasn’t left my thoughts since—and now I’m really never going to get rid of her if she’s around the team all the time.
Great.
“This is Camille,” Coach says, turning his attention to her. “You have impeccable timing, Camille. I was just telling the team about you. We can chat in my office about your duties for our upcoming trip to New Mexico.”
Fuck. Me.
“Sounds great,” she replies, smiling brightly, scanning the room as she walks toward his office.
Her eyes land on mine and she briefly comes to a halt, her cheeks reddening before she continues on to Coach’s office.
What was that about?
“All right, boys, get your asses in the weight room and see me in two hours for a tape review of last season,” Coach dismisses us and follows after Camille.
The room is quiet for a beat as we all get changed into our workout gear until a freshman, Travis, opens his mouth. “I suddenly have the urge to answer all post-game interview questions,” he teases, suggestively waggling his eyebrows up and down.
“She’s a knockout, that’s for sure,” Cuddy chimes in, and I shoot him a lethal glare.
“Coach said to leave her be,” I warn them. I tell myself it’s because Coach is intimidating as hell and I don’t want them to get in shit. But truthfully, it’s driving me fucking nuts hearing them talk about her like that. Cuddy’s comment wasn’t bad since he’s not wrong, but Travis’s makes me uneasy. The guy is a loose cannon, and I heard he’s been through half of the freshmen class already.
“He said not to make her uncomfortable. So don’t worry, I’ll make her feel real good,” he drawls.
Anger ripples through me at his comment. The image of him touching her runs through my mind, making my fists clench.
Travis struts by me as a couple of guys chuckle, and I extend my foot slightly, watching in delight as he faceplants onto the floor. The room bursts into laughter as Travis shoots up to his feet, getting in my face.
“What the hell, bro? What was that for?”
I don’t flinch as I tower over him, levelling him with a I don’t give a fuck look.
“Watch yourself,” I tell him, my tone clipped. I turn and walk out of the room. I don’t know if he’s smart enough to get my implication, but for his sake, I hope he did.
The anger pumping in my body fuels my workout session. A kind I haven’t felt since I was a pissed off teenager constantly getting into fights at school. The same kind that got me in a lot of trouble and nearly got me a record at sixteen.
“Fuck,” I grunt, shoving the bar with an added 200 pounds on top of it up to the rack.
“You’re lifting a little heavy today. You good?” Noah remarks, tossing a towel at me.
I wipe the sweat off my face, taking deep breaths. “I’m good.”
“Then why’d you trip Travis like a middle schooler would?”
I nearly smile at that. “He deserved it.”
“I know we don’t like the guy, but he’s a part of the team. You can’t be pulling shit like that.”
“It won’t happen again,” I reassure him, despite not knowing if I truly can uphold my promise if he so much as looks at Camille the wrong way.
“Tell me the real reason why,” he presses.
I’ve known Noah long enough to know he won’t quit until he gets an answer.
“Did you hear the way he was talking about her? He needs to be taught some manners.”
I leave out the fact that the image of his hands on her was like a punch to the gut. I had no goddamn right to be jealous, but I couldn’t help how I felt around her. I didn’t even like her and thought her bubbly personality was annoying.
Or so I tried convincing myself of.
“I like the protective macho male thing you got going on. It’s a nice change from the scowl asshole thing you usually carry around,” Noah chides.
“My scowl is still very much here.” I scowl at him to prove my point.
“And the asshole is too.” He laughs and switches spots with me on the bench.
A small smile escapes me at that, but he has his back to me so he can’t see. After he’s done lifting, he hits me with another question. “Do you like her?” he asks, sitting up.
“Like who?” I ask, knowing exactly who he’s referring to.
“Camille.”
“I don’t know her, so no, I don’t.”
“But you’re attracted to her?” he says, finally turning to face me. “No bullshit.”
I curse inwardly at the use of the no bullshit rule. It’s something I started saying to the people who were close to me when I needed to confide in them. No bullshit, just the truth.
“I am, and it pisses me off.”
“Why?” He scrunches his face at me in confusion.
“Because number one, I should be nowhere near a girl like that. Two, I have to focus on the draft, and three, love is bullshit. ”
“I didn’t say you needed to date her…You could just get it out of your system. Besides, you may be an asshole at times, but you’re a good person, Ryker. You deserve good things, especially a good girl like that,” Noah says, sounding very much like a captain giving me a pep talk I don’t need.
“Forget it,” I mutter. “And keep that shit between us. Got it?”
“Got you.” He slaps my back as we exit the weight room.
Hours later, I find myself restless while I try to finish an assignment for one of my art classes. So I decide to head to the gym for a cardio session instead. But it looks like I won’t be able to work out my restlessness anytime soon because of who I see in the corner of the gym as soon as I’m inside.
Her.