Chapter 7
Quentin
The last place I want to be after the night I had is practice, but alas, here I am.
I’m not hungover. I didn’t even have a single drink.
If anything, I feel like I’m having withdrawals after meeting the most beautiful and intriguing woman I’ve ever come across.
When she rejected my offer to make it more than a hookup, it stung. Bad. I didn’t go back into the bar. I got in the front seat and drove back home.
Here I was, trying to move past the usual song and dance of one-night stands. And I ended up doing the exact same thing.
I had such a strong feeling that it would be different. But I guess I should’ve asked what her intentions were before we went any further.
As soon as I think about it, though, I know I don’t regret our short-lived time together. While I want more and can’t get her out of my fucking head, I’m grateful to know it is possible to meet someone like that. Someone who makes me see the potential of more with them.
I just wish she did too, but everything happens for a reason, I guess.
“Do you guys think my left butt cheek is bigger than the right?” our catcher, Pauly, asks as he turns around and flexes his ass muscles, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Cole, Ryker, and I all curse as we turn our backs to him, the rest of the guys in the locker room doing the same.
“C’mon, this is a serious debate online recently,” he whines, and Cole takes pity on him, twisting his head to check.
“It is,” he tells him. “Happy now?”
“Yes, thank you.” Pauly beams and the three of us turn back around as we finish getting ready for our game tonight.
It’s only been a week into the season, but things are looking good so far. My shoulder’s been holding up, and the guys are more determined than ever to get us to the World Series this year after having gotten so close last season.
Being a pitcher for the MLB has been my dream since I was a kid on an island off the coast of France. There was a point in time that I didn’t think it would happen, seeing as I was a prince and it wasn’t possible for me to pursue baseball. Not until I withdrew my title and left my family for good.
Well, some of my family, seeing as I’m still close to Camille and keep in contact with my brother Matheo.
Speaking of family, Ryker makes his way over to me and sits next to me on the bench.
“How was last night?” Ryker asks as he ties up his shoes, his locker next to mine, so we’re out of earshot of the group.
“It was…great until it wasn’t,” I say as I lift my baseball cap and run my fingers through my hair.
“What happened?” he prods, forearms on his knees as he waits for my response.
“I met a girl, and she’s stunning, funny, and confident. She piqued my interest, and we had a good time, but she didn’t want more than that,” I tell him, my voice giving away how bummed I am about it.
“What’s her name?” Ryker asks.
“I don’t even know.”
“Damn,” he remarks, his eyes full of pity.
“Don’t worry about it, brother, it is what it is. If she doesn’t want me, I’m not going to make her uncomfortable by chasing her,” I say, hoping she’ll be gone from my memory.
“Maybe you liked her because you’re in the mindset of looking for a relationship now. I say go out a few times and see if anyone else catches your eye like that. I’m sure she wasn’t the one and only. Don’t lose hope,” he says, doing his best to be positive, and I appreciate the sentiment.
“Thanks, man,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Is Camille working today?”
As if on cue, Camille bounds into the locker room, her camera in hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I answer my own question as Ryker’s face lights up at the sight of her.
He instantly stands, pulling her into him as he softly says, “Ma chérie.”
“I just wanted to come see you.” She smiles before leaning up on her toes to kiss him. “And I wanted to see if you’ll quickly film a video for me?”
“Whatever you need, princess,” he tells her, and she puts her hand in his, leading him out of the locker room as they both wave to me with their free hands.
Once they’re gone, I survey the locker room, my eyes landing on Ian Kelly, who’s sitting across from me, the second pitcher in our rotation and the only guy on this team who pisses me off.
He sits with his eyes closed, earphones in as he meditates or does whatever the fuck it is that he does.
It’s never interacting with the team, though.
He keeps to himself and has made that abundantly clear when he joined our team last season.
If that wasn’t enough to annoy me as someone who believes in the power of team bonding, we’ve been clashing since we met four years ago when he played for New York.
Our teams were battling for a spot in the playoffs, and it was a tiebreaker game. Whoever won, moved on, and the other’s season would end.
Ian not once, but three times hit our players when he pitched. And I’ve got to give it to him, they were placed perfectly enough to seem like an accident, but we all knew they weren’t. He was trying to take us out of the game by injuring our best hitters.
The third batter to be hit charged the mound, which in turn had players clearing the benches to break up a fight.
I stormed the mound with the intention to merely intervene. But, we had some colorful words exchanged, to put it mildly. If it weren’t for both of our teams there to push us apart, it probably would’ve ended with a physical altercation.
The guy is selfish and too cocky for his own good.
As if he can sense my eyes on him, he opens his eyes and takes his headphones off. “You know a picture lasts longer, Laurent,” he says flippantly.
I scoff at that. And since everyone else seems busy in their own conversations, I decide to respond. “The last thing I want is to see you more than I need to.”
“If you retire, you’ll never have to see me again.” He grins like the Cheshire Cat.
That right there is another reason I’m hesitant to retire.
Because I know he’ll take my ace position, and he’s too risky on the mound.
He often goes against the signals from the catcher and does his own thing.
Sometimes it works, but it makes it hard to trust him as a teammate.
And if there’s no trust, there’s no team flow, which is what this team needs if they wants to be successful once I’m gone.
“And leave you to make selfish decisions and ruin the team dynamic? I don’t think so.”
“I have the gall to make choices others don’t. I’m a risk-taker. We’ll never make it far by playing it safe,” he says defensively.
“Yeah, and having a team that doesn’t trust you and is anxious because of that isn’t going to make for a very good season,” I argue, getting tired of this discussion.
It’s a waste of my breath. He’s never going to change, and I can only hope maybe he’ll be traded before I make the choice to retire.
“Does anyone really trust others? I only trust my sister and myself,” he says, admitting a personal detail I never knew before and we’ve been playing together for over a year now.
Meanwhile, I’ve met and have made connections with every guy’s family on the team.
“I trust this team with my life, and that’s crucial as a pitcher. I know they have my back behind the mound,” I say, knowing this is a useless conversation, but I can’t stop myself.
It’s always been this way between us. Once we start bickering, there’s no stopping.
“You and that bleeding heart. Makes me sick.” He shakes his head as he stands, disgust dripping from every word.
“At least I have one, dickhead,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest as he walks away, flipping me the finger over his shoulder.
I ignore it, used to it by now.
When he first joined our team, I wanted to rip his head off. It hasn’t subsided over time and while I’d still love to do that, I know for the sake of the team, I need to be somewhat civil.
Or at least try to be.