The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,21

the market. Or so I’d been told by a drunk sorority girl at a party one night.

The craziest part to me was the fact that I’d never even been Cole’s official girlfriend in the first place, but for some reason, other girls loved throwing his sex life in my face. Over the years, I’d been told more times than I could count about Cole hooking up with someone who wasn’t me. They whispered when I walked into the commissary, said things as they sat next to me in class, made sure I overheard them at frat parties. It was always the same; first would be his name to get my attention, and then things like, “She’s not the only one. She knows that, doesn’t she? I was with him last night. He sure knows how to use his hands,” would immediately follow.

I never understood why they cared so much to try to hurt me when it was obvious that Cole and I weren’t a couple. What did they have to gain by bringing me down? Why did we women enjoy seeing each other suffer or hurt? We were competitive. No matter how much girl power we preached, it was kind of bullshit. I thought it was ingrained in our DNA to be competitive with one another or something. Fight for the most virile man.

I used to care a lot more in the beginning. I’d stayed silent and let them talk while I sat there and took it. I stopped taking it about a year ago and started speaking up. Once I’d started talking, they’d stopped. For the most part.

The two girls had already passed us by, but I turned around and shouted, “Hey!” to get their attention.

They stopped and turned to face me, nervous looks on their faces.

Yeah, not so tough when I call you out, are you? I thought to myself. “Just for the record and just so we’re clear, I don’t give a shit what or who Cole does. You make sure and let him know, ’kay?”

The girls who’d had so much to say when they were strutting past me were suddenly at a loss for words. I was not surprised. What did surprise me was seeing Cole. He was taking the steps two at a time up the side staircase of our parking structure.

I watched where he was going until he reached the top level and disappeared out of view.

Of course.

The one place that I avoided like the plague because it held way too many memories, he continued to use it like it meant nothing. Like our lives hadn’t become intertwined up there on that top floor. Me and that stupid structure were the same to him … just a place to hang out until he had somewhere else to be.

Social Media Guru

Christina

I spent my afternoon after classes researching the band, The Long Ones’, social media sites and taking a ton of notes. There were four members, all local surfers, born and raised in Southern California. Their Facebook page had been set up but never posted on. It was a literal ghost town. They had a YouTube account, but it only had one video on it. And their Instagram had sporadic posts at best. The only thing that was up-to-date was their website, which, in the grand scheme of things, was a good sign. They weren’t completely dysfunctional.

None of this had truly surprised me, however. Most of the time, the people who I considered “the talent” didn’t have the extra hours, knowledge, or the desire to handle the social media side of things. It truly was a full-time job in and of itself and overwhelmed even the most organized professionals. The fact that they even had an account set up at each one of the appropriate channels showed me that they at least wanted to maintain them, but for whatever reason, they hadn’t been able to.

And that was where I would step in tonight and offer my services. I definitely was at the point where I could charge a fee for my knowledge, expertise, and time, but since these guys were all students, I knew they wouldn’t be able to pay me. I would build their accounts, upload content, and maintain them until I graduated. Then, my days of doing things for free would have to be over. Not because I didn’t believe in helping people when I could, but because I deserved to be paid for my work, and I would have bills that my parents