Rounding Third - Michelle Lynn Page 0,36
She sticks her pen between her breasts that are about to pop out of her second-skin fabric.
“Sorry, but I’ll just have a Miller Lite tonight.” I ignore her obvious tactics to knock off the entire baseball team like a to-do list. First base, check. Shortstop, check.
“If you change your mind, the door to heaven is right there.” She points to the door labeled Emergency Exit. She winks over to me and saunters over to the bar.
After she’s gone, I rest back in my chair and watch the Sox game.
“Hey, man, I don’t know what kind of history you share with Ella, but she can’t be worth passing up all the pussy.”
“She is,” I confirm. I say nothing more, my eyes never leaving the television.
“If you say so.” He shrugs, and we watch television in silence.
Oliver and Brax walk in five minutes later, heaving their breaths, sweat pouring down their faces. Each is wearing track pants and a T-shirt. Classic baseball player attire.
“What’s up?” Saucey asks.
They each slide a stool out to sit down. Brax raises his arm to Kami, and she retrieves two more beers from the bartender’s hands.
“We ran over here. Coach has been on my ass about my sprints this week,” Oliver says.
The guy is an anomaly. He’s tall as fuck, at least six-five, but when he runs, it’s in slow motion. He looks like he’s running, but he never reaches his destination.
“So, our good captain suggested we do hill sprints. Fucker.” Oliver swipes my napkin and dries off his face. “What’s the score?”
“Sox are up by two,” I answer.
Brax’s hand flies up in the air for a high five. We slap hands, commemorating our die-hard Sox-fan relationship.
“How on earth did I end up with two Sox fans as roommates?” Oliver, the Indians fan, shakes his head.
“Your team isn’t even in the play-offs. You might as well come over to the better side,” Brax says, swinging his arm around my shoulders.
“Sox rule,” we say in unison.
“Fuck you.” Oliver throws the napkin at us and nails Brax’s beer.
“You finally made a throw!” Brax remarks at Oliver’s slight slump at first base yesterday at practice.
“Tonight, we’re throwing,” Oliver says.
A mischievous gleam hits Brax’s eyes.
Saucey is quick to step in. “No way. Last time, we broke the lacrosse team’s windows, and Coach was pissed. Let’s hang out here tonight.”
“Fuck that. After the game, it’s on.” Brax eyes Oliver, who only leans closer to see how serious Brax wants to make it.
“What am I missing here?” I ask.
Saucey shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Sure you do, and I call dibs on Cros. He’s going to put you all to shame,” Brax interjects, tossing a nice compliment my way.
“Screw you. I get the new kid.” Oliver grabs my forearm, and soon, they have me in a tug-of-war.
“You saw him at practice, and you know he’ll hit your glove every damn time. He’s been mine since he was six.” Brax brings up our history.
Many times in the past two years, Brax has been mixed in the nightmares that have tortured me since Noah died.
“Damn right. The kid can hit, and the kid can catch. So, why can’t the kid get his girl?” Oliver slaps the table, and they each roar in laughter.
“Let’s leave my romantic relationship out of this,” I comment before sipping my beer.
“I told him, he’s passing on way too much pussy while chasing Ella,” Saucey says.
Oliver shakes his head. “Hey, when you find the real deal, sometimes, it’s better than having random diamond chicks for half the night.” Something in Oliver’s eyes says he’s experienced what I have with Ella once upon a time.
“Don’t waste your breath. I love Ella like a sister, and I’ve been telling Crosby since he was fifteen not to get all serious, but it’s a done deal. The lineup is in, and there’s only one name on the roster.”
“We’re going to place a bet.” Saucey rubs his hands together, like the devil coming up with a plan.
Nothing good comes from a bet.
Oliver brings his beer bottle to his lips, downing a swig. “Leave the young lad alone. Love can conquer all.” He winks over at me.
It’s condescending but better than Saucey trying to talk me into getting my dick sucked by randoms.
“Love it. What’s the bet?” Brax is eager to find out the terms.
The kid makes more bets and takes more dares than anyone I’ve met. Once, he made a bet to his parents that he’d get straight A’s in exchange for a brand-new