Chapter 10
GRAYSON
Idon’t get jealous. Ever. At no point in my entire adult life have I been a jealous man, which makes my behavior the other day pathetic. There’s no other way to describe how I acted. What the fuck do I care if some girl I don’t like talks to some dude I don’t give a shit about?
True, she said Seavers wasn’t her boyfriend and yet that’s exactly what he was acting like. Making her blush. Getting her to smile. Asking her out on a date? All while she could barely look at me.
I run a hand through my hair. Frustrated. Irritated. Definitely not jealous.
“I don’t fucking know you...and I don’t want to.”
It’s the truth. And yet, because of her, seeing her with him, I have the pitiful urge to punch something. Or someone. Maybe a goddamn basketball player to start.
I end up on the third floor gym, beating the shit out of the punching bag. I didn’t tape my hands which is stupid and I stop before my knuckles are bloody and raw. Coach is going to talk shit, but I’ll deal with that when I have to. Right now I need to focus.
Except, I can’t. Because what the fuck is she playing at?
Not only does she ignore me all week, but worse, I let it get to me. I can’t continue to do so. I refuse to.
My chest is heaving like I just finished my usual workout, but I haven’t even started. I’m simply full of adrenaline and need to move. Once I burn away all this excess energy, I’ll feel better. I usually do.
Shaking my head to clear it, I inhale through my nose. Then, I throw a series of punches. Inevitably, my thoughts return to the one girl they shouldn’t even contemplate.
The other night, when she waved at me outside the locker rooms while she waited for Sammy, I didn’t feel the indifference that most people provoke.
A spark of something small but powerful, a sort of elation lit the darkest part of me and I had to shut that shit down.
I had no choice but to ignore her. Anything else would invite unwelcome and unwanted consequences.
Keep telling yourself that, Rhodes.
I stop and glare at the bag. What the fuck is wrong with me? So she’s nice? Who cares. So she’s friendly? The truth is I could be anyone, she simply wants to be everyone’s friend.
Landing front kicks eases some of the tension building up in my limbs. I keep hitting the bag.
This is simply a moment of weakness. I need to refocus. I need to pivot my thoughts. Need to concentrate on all the things about her I cannot stand.
I throw a series of roundhouse kicks. For example, I don’t like how fucking pretty she is.
Front elbows.
I hate how smoking hot she looks in everything she wears.
Back elbows.
I loathe how my dick responds to her.
Knee strikes.
Punches.
Upper cuts.
The goddamn heavy bag is about to call it quits and I haven’t stopped thinking about her. That’s a problem.
Jesus, fuck. I need to get laid.
The Lion’s Den Bar & Billiards is two miles from school, but it might as well be on campus.
It’s packed with students on any random night.
Given the dim lighting encouraging easy hook ups, the five huge flat screens behind the bar catching all Tower Lake games, and the extra room with clean pool and billiards tables, it’s no surprise.
Tonight, I won’t be drinking. I hardly ever do, but I’m pitching tomorrow. Besides, that’s not why I’m here. I need a warm body to get lost in.
I haven’t been with anyone since I saw her in that pale blue dress. Can’t get the fucking image out of my mind. Even jerked off to the memory of her pressed to my side, my arm keeping her upright, her small hand on my stomach, sliding down toward my dick.
The moment I step inside The Lion’s Den, a redhead wraps her arms around my waist. I peel her off because I don’t hook up with the same girl twice. Never done it. Never going to do it. It’s not my style.
Except…her. For some unfathomable reason, I can’t stop thinking about her.
Technically we didn’t hook up. I was a douche and kicked her out of my room before we had sex. The whole virgin thing fucked with my head. After all, that’s the one rule my father drilled into my skull.
Have all the fun you want, son, but stay away from scheming girls and virgins. You’ll never get rid of them.
He didn’t care about anything else. Didn’t matter what might be happening in my life, so long as I didn’t get some random girl pregnant, he left me alone. That’s all that’s expected of me until I graduate. After that—hell I don’t want to think about what happens then.
At the bar, a stunning brunette sits alone.
I can’t see her face, but she has a sexy as fuck figure with an amazing ass.
That little lavender dress reveals more than it hides and I’m tempted to go back to her place and see more of her tanned skin.
I’m curious if I can encircle that tiny waist with my hands, while I—no fucking way.
I’d say she’s following me, except she was here first. What the fuck is she doing?
Don’t know, don’t care.
A guy approaches and they shake hands like it’s the first time they’re meeting. I recognize him. He’s on the swim team. Luke or Lucas or something equally stupid.
I turn back to the redhead. She has a blonde friend I wave over.
“Let’s get out of here,” I tell her.
“Oh my god really? Oh my god yes!”
I’m already regretting my decision when I look up and meet that ethereal pair of green eyes I wanted to avoid.
She looks from the blonde hanging on my arm back to my face.
Her brows furrow together and her cheeks flush red with the realization of why I’m here.
She says something to Luke/Lucas, whom I can only assume is her date, and turns to go.
He follows after her. There’s something about him I don’t like and definitely don’t trust.
“Can I invite my other friend?” Blondie asks me.
“What? Sure. Not the redhead,” I reply. “Give me a second.”
I should probably keep an eye on her. She’s my best friend’s sister, after all.
I follow her and Luke/Lucas into the hallway, which leads to the restrooms, the back exit, and parking lot. The door swings shut, but I hold it open.
They’re at his truck. She thanks him when he opens the passenger door for her.
The same strange sensation from before erupts inside me, spewing venom into my veins.
Once they’re both in the truck he says something and her pretty face lights up into a welcoming smile. Fuck this. I return to the blonde.
“I’m Sydney,” she says. “This is Rory and that’s Felicity.”
A different redhead clings to my arm, while the leggy brunette blushes as she waves at me.
“I’m saving you for last,” I wink at her and she blushes harder.
I’m pitching like shit. I can’t find the fucking strike zone for the goddamn life of me.
Sammy calls time and comes out to the mound.
“Hey man, what’s up?” he asks
“Don’t know. My timing’s off.”
“No shit. The last two innings are the worst I’ve ever seen you pitch.”
“Fuck you,” I smirk.
“You didn’t come home last night. Everything okay?”
You would think so given that I had three hot girls dying to share me, but they weren’t what I wanted. Or needed. I dropped them off at their place and took off with some excuse about pitching the next day. Then I drove around until the sun came up.
“Let me give you the best advice I’ve heard—”
“Are you shitting me right now, Sam?”
“Dude, focus. It’s something my sister told me.”
Of course.
“Take a deep breath, alright? Inhale calm and confidence. Then, exhale doubt and fear.”
Why am I not surprised?
“That doesn’t even make sense,” I mutter behind my hand.
“I’m serious.” Sammy places the ball in my glove. “These guys are lighting you up, bro. What can it hurt to hear me out?”
I nod for him to continue.
“Just take a deep breath and inhale all that motherfucking confidence I know you have and exhale any fucking useless doubt or fear going on!!”
“Your sister said that?”
“Focus, dick. Now, think of your favorite dessert.”
“What?”
Was not expecting that.
Trevor approaches the mound from first base. “Are we playing ball, boys, or we planning dinner?”
“Get back to first,” I bark, but there’s no bite behind the words.
Trevor smirks and jogs backward.
Sammy swats my hip with his catcher’s glove before returning behind the plate.
Okay, don’t force it.
Inhale confidence.
Exhale doubt.
I take a deep breath then throw a warm up pitch. That felt good. I throw another. Alright, I got this. The ump calls the batter to the plate.
What’s my favorite dessert? That double chocolate chip cookie was alright. Fine, it was good. There’s something else I’d rather eat though.
Without meaning to, I look out into the stands. I find her damn near immediately. She’s looking right at me, but so is almost everyone in the stadium. She’s wearing her brother’s jersey, and something about that is incredibly jarring. Irritating too.
Double chocolate chip cookies. That’s what I’m supposed to be focusing on. Not her. Confidence. Calm.
Sammy calls for a fastball, which I send directly at the batter’s shoulder. Fuck. The umpire signals that I’m gone, thrown out of the game.
The batter’s about to do something stupid. He tosses his bat in the air and charges at me. Fuck it, let’s go. I throw my glove aside and rush home plate as both dugouts empty onto the field.