Copyright © 2021 by Marissa J. Gramoll
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to people, places, events, or things are entirely coincidental.
Editors:
Deanna Young
Karin Salisbury
Proofreader:
Eris Marriott
Logo Designer:
Eleanor Aldrick
Cover Design and Formatting:
L. Steinworth www.theartofliz.com
Models:
Ashley and Scott Knapp
ISBN 978-1-7366277-0-9
Playlist
“Vindicated” By Dashboard Confessional
“Here You Me” By Jimmy Eat World
“Dancing With Your Ghost” By Sasha Sloan
“There She Goes” By Reeve Carney
“Old Alabama (feat. Alabama) By Brad Paisley, Alabama
“Highway to Hell” by AC/DC
“Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely” By Backstreet Boys
“I Drive Your Truck” By Lee Brice
“If You Could Only See” By Tonic
“Breathe (2 AM)” By Anna Nalick
“In My Blood” By Shawn Mendes
“Breakeven” By The Script
“Falling” By Harry Styles
“Jersey On The Wall-I’m Just Asking” Tenille Townes
“The Last Time” By Taylor Swift, Gary Lightbody
“Just Give Me A Reason (feat. Nate Ruess)” By P!nk, Nate Ruess
“Here With Me” By The Killers
“In Love Again” By Colbie Caillat
“Grow As We Go” By Ben Platt
“Somewhere Only We Know” By Keane
“Still” By Nial Horan
“HEAVEN” By Troye Sivan, Betty Who
“You” By A Great Big World
Find on Spotify: https://spoti.fi/3bvcNFt
Trigger Warning
A Game Like Ours is a New Adult, Queer, College Literary Fiction with strong romantic themes about coming to terms with loss and identity.
This book contains content that may be triggering–including death of a loved one, suicidal ideation, eating disorder, homosexual persecution, physical abuse (off page), and other intense situations.
Not recommended for younger audiences.
Author’s Note
I wrote about some very sensitive topics and did my best to handle them with the utmost care. Some of these topics and situations are very close to my heart and were things that brought tears to my eyes as I wrote them. This is the story I needed to tell, the book I needed to write. I hope that the way I depict these scenes in A Game Like Ours shows respect and thoughtfulness to those in similar situations. Much of this book was drawn from my personal experience and the experiences of those close to me. Our culture has a long way to go toward acceptance. I hope that in a small way, this book can help. For all my bisexual readers, I hope you feel seen. You matter to me.
A NOTE ABOUT EATING DISORDERS:
In preparation for this novel, I researched Eating Disorders both inside and outside of athletics, doing all I could to represent this subject with care and consideration. Please know that this is a work of fiction and may or may not feel real or reasonable to some individuals. Bobby’s story is authentic to his character. The struggles he felt are very close to my heart and I hope that it provides a message of hope in the way it is represented. Eating Disorders are unique to the individual. If you or a loved one is challenged with this, there is help available.
For more information, visit:
https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/
For everyone who has lost someone they love and had to keep on living.
For everyone who has had to love in the dark.
I see you.
I’m with you.
This book is for you.
Contents
1. BOBBY
2. LEXIE
3. BOBBY
4. LEXIE
5. BOBBY
6. LEXIE
7. BOBBY
8. LEXIE
9. BOBBY
10. LEXIE
11. BOBBY
12. LEXIE
13. BOBBY
14. LEXIE
15. BOBBY
16. LEXIE
17. BOBBY
18. LEXIE
19. BOBBY
20. LEXIE
21. BOBBY
22. LEXIE
23. BOBBY
24. LEXIE
25. BOBBY
26. LEXIE
27. BOBBY
28. BOBBY
29. LEXIE
30. BOBBY
31. BOBBY
32. LEXIE
33. BOBBY
34. LEXIE
35. BOBBY
36. LEXIE
37. BOBBY
38. LEXIE
39. BOBBY
40. LEXIE
41. BOBBY
42. LEXIE
43. BOBBY
44. LEXIE
45. BOBBY
46. BOBBY
47. LEXIE
48. BOBBY
49. LEXIE
50. BOBBY
Untitled
Acknowledgments
About the Author
BOBBY
AUGUST, SENIOR YEAR OF COLLEGE
I wish feelings had an on-and-off switch.
They say that you go through stages of grief. But that ain’t true. You don’t go through grief. You get stuck in it. Like mud after a rainy game that sticks to your cleats, this shit doesn’t go anywhere. It’s a part of you, even though all you want is to be washed clean of it. Washed clean of it all.
I need to focus. Especially here at work. These little guys need me.
“It’s hot today,” I say. “Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.” I clap my hands while they grab their water bottles. Ice-cold sugar-free Powerade rushes down my throat.
I stretch my neck from side to side and watch as the Tiny Knights line up. My group of nine little-leaguers wait to bat. Some of ’em are chewing Big League Chew bubblegum. Dangling from the dugout. Reminding me of the cast from The Sandlot.
I crouch near home plate with my palms digging into my knees. My teammate Briar’s group takes their position in the outfield.
One of my littlest players, Blake, is up first. I check his helmet and bat. “Okay, ready to go?” I step over so I’m close enough to help but not in the way.
Pitcher sends the ball our way. Blake chokes, standing still. Scared shitless. Poor kid.
“Strike one!” Rodney calls as the ball bounces against clay in the catcher’s box. Blake didn’t swing. I watch his face. He’s been having a rough day. He needs a hit.
Second pitch with perfect potential flies through the air.
“Strike two!” Rodney yells.
“I can’t do it.” Blake throws his bat on the ground.
“Hey, now.” I hop over to him. “Sure you can. Let’s just try it this way, alright?” I keep my smile encouraging, handing him his bat. “Elbow here. Yep, like that. Okay.” I look at him. “You got this. I promise.”
“No, I don’t.” His face turns red as he huffs his frustration. “I just don’t even know what I’m doin’ here. I’m the worst player there is.” He kicks his cleat into the clay, dust flying.
“Do you remember yesterday?” I raise my eyebrows. “Who hit a beautiful home run on our mornin’ game? It wasn’t Cal, was it?”
Cal’s standing by us and he chuckles. He’s wearing his
purple jersey and gray pinstripe pants. They’re rolled up below his knees, showing his purple stirrups and cleats. Kid’s got confidence in droves, so I know he can take the joke. After just a sec of watching Blake, he catches on that we need to lift some spirits. “Not this time, Coach.”
I tsk. “Well, you just told me I was lookin’ at the worst player there is. But seems to me that’s not really possible.”
“Sure it is, Coach. I don’t know how to do this.” Blake hangs his head. “First missin’ all those throws this mornin’. Now I just can’t even hit. I wanna go home.”
“It’s just a rough day. We all have ’em. I mean, I miss a lot of hits too.” I pat his shoulder.
“Hey, Coach Briar!” I cup my hand to shout across the field. “You miss a lot of hits, dontcha?”
“Blake’s seen me play.” Briar hollers. “I miss hits all the time.”
“Last game we played in the championship a few weeks ago, I was at bat. Struck out. Cost the team a lot. But you know what?” I have Blake’s attention. I can feel it. Can’t let that go before I drive in some inner strength. “I gave it my best. And that’s all any of us can do. Good days, rough days, we keep playin’.”
He’s hearing me, I hope. Please, let these words sink in. He needs it, today.
“You know how to do this. You’ve done it before. You’ve just gotta give it your best. Even if you miss, you just gotta give it your best.” I bend so I’m at eye level with him. “I have total faith in you.”
“You do?” Blake’s eyes find mine.
“Sure I do. And so does your whole team. You’re not alone, alright. Never alone.”
I take my spot off to the side. Pitcher sends the ball our way. Blake swings. He swings. I breathe in relief. Ball connects with his bat. A line drive between second and third. It’s enough time for him to run to first.
Thank God.
When the game’s over, Blake seems better.
“Proud of you.” I pat his shoulder while he shuffles into the dugout. “You gave it your best.”
“Thanks, Coach.” He smiles.
After the game, we run Catch, Tag and Throw drills.
“Coach Bobby, you gonna get drafted this year?” Cal runs up beside me to take his spot in the rotation. Blonde hair sticks out of his cap. I had Cal last summer, too.
“You could be the next Dansby Swanson.” Cal throws the ball to Larry, on third base. “Or Jose Ramirez.”
“We’ll see.” I smile, flattered that they think I’m going somewhere.
The kids get picked up, leaving me standing on the empty field. The past pulls me in again. I’m forever its prisoner.
For a second, it’s like Cody’s here. Standing on the mound, spitting sunflower seeds. I remember him everywhere.
“Did you see that? Bobby? Did you see that?” Cody grabs me by the shoulders. He’s jumping up and down. “I’ve never thrown that fast! Oh my gosh, did you see that?”
“I saw! Of course I saw. Are you kiddin’?”
He smiles so wide at the radar reading 67 MPH. Most kids our age throw 60 or less. “I can do this.”
“Told ya you were gettin’ better.” I bring him in for a huge hug.
“You’re comin’ with me, Bobby. Both of us, playin’ for the majors! I can see it now.” Cody’s hand stretches with the horizon like he’s looking into the future.
I swallow hard. Being at camp brings memories. Everything does. The dead aren’t really the ones that die. It’s the living. My insides have rotted like his corpse in Happy Memorial Cemetery.
I miss ya. I feel hollow and heavy. Shit, I miss ya so much.
I don’t want to live on. I don’t want to be the survivor. I don’t want to keep breathing. Cody just slipped away. One minute he was here. The next he was gone.
Someday, will we all just slip away? If I hold my breath long enough, will I melt into the universe connecting everything to nothing, all at once? Will I get back to him? Can I please just get back to him?
I need to lock up the field and head to meet Sam, but my feet won’t move. I’m stuck here. No, not stuck here, stuck in the past.
Life feels so futile now. I know it’s not. Hell, I just helped Blake hit the goddamn ball. But it feels like there’s nothing here for me now that Cody’s gone.
Am I anything without him?
Was I ever?
Not knowing stirs up all the wrong kind of fear.
My eyes burn, making me want to close them and never open them up again. I bend down to pick up the bag of gear. Can’t stay here. Can’t stay lost in the past. Can’t stay on this field that just reminds me of him.
I press my eyes closed tightly against the summer sun. Sweat drips from brow to cheek. The back of my hand swats it away like tears.
I grip the cross necklace Cody gave me and hold on tight. Why’d you let him die, God? Why?
“You okay, man?” Briar runs over to me and I shake out of my thoughts. “We gotta get locked up and I got work in half an hour.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” I lock up the gate. “I’m okay,” I lie.
Not sure I’m ever gonna be.
Loss takes everything away. It clouds over what was once beautiful, leaving something dark and hazy in its wake. True for anyone who has lost someone. A fallout. A divorce.
A death.
Thank God, I get to be with Sam tonight. Since high school, I’ve been with both men and women. Sam is non-binary.
When I met Sam at a baseball tournament a few years ago, they joined me and Cody for an extra practice. We became fast friends, evolving into something more or less like friends with benefits after they graduated.
I drive the two hours to downtown Columbia. They travel here for work quite often and we meet up. Always worth the drive. I park my truck a couple blocks away and walk to the Marriott. Sam texted me their room number.
Once I’m in front of the hotel room, I delete our string of texts. No paper trail. I’m paranoid, I know. But I don’t want word getting out.
Word can’t get out.
The door opens, and I take them in. Dark hair and a trimmed beard. A coy smile plays on their face. Straight white teeth. Thick eyebrows. Very tan skin. Wearing a tailored suit and tie after a long day of business meetings. A little shorter than I am. Delicious muscles covering every inch of them.
“You made it, mate.” They smile, latching the bolt on the hotel room. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” I bring them in for a hug. “How’ve you been?”
“Besides these stupid meetings, fantastic. How about you?”
“Good.” I nod.
“Get settled.” They gesture to the deluxe suite with drawn curtains and six bottles of sugar-free grape Powerade sitting on the coffee table, my favorite.
I plop my backpack in one of the armchairs. Take off my hoodie and set it down.
“You’re losing weight.” They look at me, concern in their eyes.
“It’s nothin’.” I choke. Shit, I wish they didn’t notice. Need to cover it up. “Just stressed,” I assure them as they look longer at my thinning frame. Untucking my shirt, I hope it looks better.
“What is this? You shouldn’t be dieting this hard.”
“I’m fine.” I shrug.
“You’re not low on cash, are you? Because I’ll write you a check.”
“No, no. I’m alright. I swear.” I bring them in for a kiss, my lips melting into theirs, tasting the remnants of their spearmint gum.
“I know your body so well. This isn’t alright.” They put a little pressure against my stomach, a gasp coming at how little of me there is. “Let’s go get a bite to eat. Now. You feel like you’ve been starving for weeks.”
“No.” I take their hand, intertwining our fingers. “I want you. Then we can get food.”
“No. Food now, play later.” They wink.
We relax on the bed, enjoying the afterglow. All weekend, we’ve ordered room service, fucked and talked. The “Do Not Disturb” sign has st
ayed on the handle.
Their head rests on my chest, against my pounding heart. They play with my cross necklace in their hand. “I’m so sad you carry this, all the pain on your shoulders about what happened.” Sam and I kept in touch, after that tournament where we met. Eventually, we shared our attraction for each other and the secrets. Sam is the only safe space I’ve had to really be who I am.
“Cody was a great player. I know you blame yourself a lot about what happened.” Sam runs their finger along the baseball design engraved in the cross.
“I hate that he’s gone.” My throat is thick. I haven’t really talked to anyone about this. There’s so much brewing inside of me. Who I want to talk to is Lexie, Cody’s surviving fiancée. I haven’t seen her since the day of his funeral.
“Damn that truck.” Sam’s face is full of care and I’m more thankful than ever to have someone to talk to.
“Damn that truck.” I agree, running my hand through my hair.
“I’m glad you’re still here.” They kiss me, coming on top. Their skin melts into mine as I stroke their back.
“Think you’ll ever come out?” they ask.
I sigh. “After retirement, maybe.”
A Game Like Ours: Suncastle College Book One Page 1