by Ashley Munoz
Guys were joking, shoving, and smoking—discreetly of course. They had their opening game the next day, so I had no idea why anyone would even risk a contact high, but to each his own.
I could do this. I mean, I already was…so, yeah…it was going to be fine. Even if I was out of my element and had anxiety about being surrounded by so many people, journalism was a messy medium…at least that was what I kept telling myself over and over again while taking cleansing breaths every few steps.
“Pass or pay,” deadpanned a freckle-faced kid no older than eighteen as he held his hand out.
I held up the king of hearts I’d gotten from Taylor, hoping it would work as a pass.
His beady eyes scanned the words written in black ink along the back, then his head dipped in a nod while the guy next to him opened the door for me. A gush of air left my chest as I walked across the threshold.
I’d been to a few college parties over the years—I mean, it was a rite of passage—but they weren’t my scene. I’d have preferred to be working a shift at the bookstore, where stacks and rows of books worked as barriers against people getting too close to me. It also didn’t hurt to get lost in the cream-colored pages of an adventure or fantasy. I hated admitting it out loud or any time someone asked the cliché question about my hobbies, but reading was one, regardless of how lame it seemed to all the adventure seekers out there.
Looking around the party, I could feel the age-old insecurities flaring to life. My hair had always been too frizzy, my skin too blotchy, my body too wide. I was healthy and happy, but years and years of negative self-talk were a war waged and lost on the heart and a smear on the soul. Tonight, however, I was channeling someone else entirely. The mystery man in that room tonight would expect Taylor, but he’d get me.
Either he was just handing out cards carefree and didn’t really care who ended up in that room, or he had handpicked Taylor and I was fucked. I really was hoping he didn’t care as long as it was a willing female, one who would do enough skin-to-skin connection to grab the story before he could hit his home run.
“Damn, girl,” someone said to my left. I smiled, remembering what I had on tonight. I was wearing the black dress Taylor had told me to wear. The bodice hugged me tightly, slimming my waist, and the slit opened right at my thigh. It was short, way shorter than anything I had ever worn, but it made my reddish-brown hair look like a dark auburn under these lights and against my natural tan. Loose curls cascaded down my back while little braids lined each side of my head. My makeup was Hillary’s best work and completely perfect, with my lashes thick and black, my eyebrows tweezed and shaded, and lastly, my toes were currently wedged into sky-high black heels.
I was thanking my middle school best friend for making me learn how to walk in them, all so we could shine the brightest at our school dance. Then of course Jackie, my stepmother, had ensured I continued my education with every black-tie event my father was invited to.
“Card?” another young man asked from his perch in front of the stairwell leading down to the basement. Checkpoints—they had fucking checkpoints set up in the house, all catered to the game. This was insane.
I flashed my home run card to the fool.
“Lucky asshole,” he muttered, but it was hard to make it out completely over the booming bass. His eyes raked over my form, pausing at my chest, where my curls brushed against my breasts. I tried not to wince as a sheen of lust came over his features, tilting his lips in a seductive way. I’d never felt so exposed, like a film of oil was encasing me with every step.
Still, I smiled in response, looking up from beneath my lashes, playing the part, trying to allow this game to be fun instead of terrifying. Other people seemed to be having fun; I could do the same.
Ever so slowly, he moved to the side so I could pass.
I descended the stairs carefully, taking in the pictures on the walls as I went. They were framed photos of the Devils baseball team throughout the years. There was a bronze frame from what looked like the 1970s, and even one from what looked like the 50s. I assumed this house must have been the team house, a fraternity not officially associated with the school, which was probably why they had to be so secretive about this game of theirs. If the school found out, I was positive they would shut it down. Or would they?
The basement was layered with a thin blue carpet that was littered with dark stains and old odors. Twin pool tables took up the space to my right, posters of half-naked women adorned the walls, and a low, was-white-at-some-point couch perched off to the left with a coffee table sitting in front of it. Three girls and two guys filled the seats, all nursing cans of beer, and toward the back was a small kitchen, tucked away near an equally small laundry room.
My eyes greedily took in every detail as I made my way toward the back of the house. Every time I was sure I’d reached the place I was supposed to be, there would be someone telling me to keep going. The farther I went, the thicker the smoke was and the more inebriated everyone seemed to be. Interesting development.
Tiny hairs on my arms and neck rose as I began to sort through the information I had gathered thus far. This was a dangerously bad idea, and any girl who willingly came down here was definitely not making good life choices. I thought perhaps I should contact the school’s guidance counselors after I figured out who all was involved with this.
“The line is this way, baby girl.” Drew Seymour leered at me with red-rimmed eyes and a carnal smile. He was devastatingly handsome and someone I hadn’t thought knew I even existed. Maybe he still didn’t—it wasn’t like he’d said my name. He had just called me baby girl and was probably talking to my vagina for all I knew.
I veered to the left, following his directions, itching to scribble down a few notes about everything I was seeing.
“Tell me she’s a player tonight.” Someone bit their knuckle as I passed.
Player?
This was all kinds of messed up.
“Fuck me, whose card is she on?” I heard another yell as I walked through what felt like a maze of leering jocks, all watching to see who was walking in. Finally, I noticed two girls in front of me, both with seemingly more energetic attitudes than me. Their hands were raised above their heads, holding drinks as they gave each boy a free shimmy and shake as they passed.
Should I have been feeling the guys up too? If I didn’t, would it make me seem out of place?
Dang it.
I plastered my flirty smile on, lowered my eyes, and batted my lashes. Hopefully that would work. With a few of the guys who moved in closer, I dug deep for the confidence to push past how close they were and dragged my hand down their chests.
Rich Wellington cupped his mouth and yelled over the chaos. “Ladies, we will be splitting you up by bases.”
I stopped close to the two girls who’d walked in before me. I wished I knew their names, but I had never seen either of them before. The girl who stopped next to me was vaguely familiar, but I supposed they all would be since we were all from RFU.
“Once you’ve been accurately placed, you’ll then be given a blindfold. No one here will put this blindfold on you. You must willingly put it on yourself, with the full knowledge that you are going to be led to a room where you will be joined by a specific team member who found your company desirable this evening. This is very important, ladies.” Rich stepped closer to our group.
I tried to see how many other girls there were, but it looked like it was just the four of us: first base, second base, third, and home plate. They only allowed one woman per base per party. The conversation I’d overheard at the restaurant played again in my head. As miniscule as the details might have been, they were currently acting as a survival guide, mapping my way through this entire situation.
“You must follow our golden rule. It’s of the utmost importance.” Rich smiled, bringing my thoughts back to the party. He looked each girl in the eye, but when he got to me, his forehead crinkled like he was confused.
Did he know who had
been invited?
My palms began to sweat as he paused, and it felt like an eternity as I waited for him to turn his gaze elsewhere.
Finally, with two furrowed blond eyebrows, he looked away to continue. “You must only go as far as your base allows. The men will be following this rule as well, and there are assurances in place to help enforce this. I don’t care if you think you have a connection with the guy or you love him—whatever the fuck it is, I don’t care. If you’re base number one, you only go as far as your base allows. You will not push for more, or you will be blacklisted, and a formal lawsuit will be filed against you.”
What. The. Fuck…
A lawsuit?
I withheld the loud scoff itching its way up my throat. They couldn’t… Nothing was in writing. Was it?
Wait…shit.
“This way, ladies.”
I was gently shoved forward, and before I could even process what was happening or deliver the barb to not fucking touch me, someone had my wrist pulled up and my card in their hand.
“Home run over here.” Someone laughed then handed me off to another guy who led me toward the back of the line. A black silk blindfold was handed to me by a tall guy wearing way too much cologne. I wanted to puke. They were all too close, and I was going to hyperventilate if I didn’t get out of the crowd.
Suddenly my heart rate spiked. I wasn’t cool with the blindfold. I didn’t like not knowing where I was headed…what if this was a human trafficking ring? What if they were serial killers…or rapists?
But Taylor had mentioned that girls came out of this. They lived to tell the tale, to incite jealousy, right?
With shaky hands, I fastened the fabric around my head. My breathing seemed more strenuous, my limbs suddenly unstable as the sounds from the room seemed to amplify and careen through my head. Everyone was laughing or making bets and jokes about each girl. They didn’t use our names, just our base numbers, which made me think they had a roster of some kind, or they’d put something on our backs to indicate which base we were.
“Home run, this way.” Someone gently pulled my arm then wrapped their hand around mine.
Holding hands I could do because it put space between us. I just didn’t want his arm around me. I needed the distance.
“I gotta say, I’m shocked. You weren’t the girl I thought would be showing up tonight. As far as I knew, my boy had been eyeing someone else all semester.”
Shit. Did one of these idiots actually like my stepsister?
“Hmmm, not sure what happened then,” I replied demurely, still trying to keep my wits and gather information about what I could hear and smell.
“No worries. My boy has been known to be a little back and forth. Either way, he’ll treat you right tonight. You signed the NDA and all that, about your STD checkup and the use of the condom?”
Wow, they were really thorough. I was momentarily impressed.
“Yeah, left it with…” I paused, hoping he’d fill in the blank for me.
“Paul?” the guy offered, opening a door in front of us. I could feel the air change, and the room he led me into smelled much better than the hall we had just been in.
“Yeah, I guess…can’t remember his name,” I lied.
The guy laughed, easing my discomfort. “No one ever remembers Paul.”
Relief swept through me.
“Okay, I’m going to let you take off the blindfold once I step out of the room. E should be here any minute, okay? If there’s any issue whatsoever, there’s a panic button on the wall.” He turned my body and stretched out my hand until it was covering a dime-sized button.
So fucking strange.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“Have fun tonight,” he said teasingly before opening and shutting the door.
I pulled the blindfold free and began gathering as much information as I could. I stood in what looked like a bedroom. There was a queen-sized bed covered by a dark blue comforter, and the shade over the window matched. There was a side table with a lamp, textbooks, and what looked like a phone charger base.
I spun, taking in the posters, the chair with a few stains on it, and the small mini fridge. Definitely a team member’s bedroom.
I fidgeted with the blindfold, unsure what to do. I wasn’t planning on actually sleeping with this guy tonight, but I hadn’t considered how exactly I was going to get out of here without doing the deed.
I didn’t have time to contemplate any further as the silver handle turned and the door began to swing open.
Chapter Six
My eyes were glued to the door as light from the hall leaked into the room. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as my rash decisions began to catch up with me in one rapid motion.
What in the fuck am I doing?
A broad shoulder shuffled through the entrance, followed by a head of dark hair. He was tall, lean muscle that was trim and corded, easily seen under his tee. Narrow hips flared into long, strong legs covered in dark denim that was stuffed into dark brown boots. They gaped like he hadn’t had time to tie them—that or he just hadn’t taken the time to.
A pair of mossy eyes landed on me. They froze, forcing his entire frame to go rigid, as if the sight of me had literally stopped him in his tracks. My stomach swirled with butterflies as I watched him shut and lock the door. His gaze heated as it moved down my frame, slowly taking in the sight of me. I tried to calm my breathing, but whoever I had assumed would show up tonight, it wasn’t anything compared to the man who stood in front of me. There was a rawness about him, a piece of stone that was probably perfect and wonderful on the inside, but his outside was rough and unwelcoming. An invisible piece of corded rope strung taut between us, growing tighter with every second he stood and watched me in silence.
Suddenly, he blinked, which seemed to snap the bond between us. He moved with prowess and a fierceness that made me want to back up a step, but the way his eyes devoured my curves and cleavage told me if I hit the bed, this was all over. He’d fuck me, and I’d be that girl who literally gave her body up for a story.
I stood my ground as he edged closer, my breaths moving in and out of me in tiny bursts.
Oh my god. I was going to hyperventilate. Are my armpits sweating more than normal? God, this whole thing was a horrible idea.
His heavy-lidded eyes dropped to the silk bandana I still stupidly held between my fingers while a tic feathered his jaw. It felt like he was imagining what he’d do with it if he had enough time.
I gulped air, my throat as brittle and dry as a scouring pad.
“Taylor, right?” he asked in a silky, smooth tone.
My brain froze. Shit. Of course, right. Yes. I was Taylor tonight.
“Yep, that’s me, but I’m not sure who you are…” My voice came out breathy and flirty, which was good. Definitely good, but my tongue darting out to wet my lips was absolutely unintentional.
His eyes tracked the movement, those mossy green orbs glossing over.
He cleared his throat, nearly shaking his head as he replied. “I’m Elias. You can call me E if you want.”
There was something about him…he didn’t feel like an Elias, but what did I know? I hadn’t watched a single baseball game my entire college career. I was so far removed from the sports scene that I honestly didn’t even know the team had an official name. I had just assumed it was called RFU Baseball, but I was here for this exact reason: to gather information.
Leaning forward just a bit, I lightly said, “Okay…um, so what position do you play on the team?”
This would help. If I knew what position he played, I could start tugging away, question by question until I had more info on these games.
He clicked his tongue, stalking closer. “Isn’t that something you should already know? I mean, you were chosen to be here, and you don’t even know what positions we play?”
Shit.
Yes, a girl who was likely to be a superfan would absolutely know those things. I felt my face heat as the fee
ling of failure crawled up my neck.
He didn’t seem mad or upset—more amused than anything else. His large hand came up to cup my elbow, and flicking my eyes there, I noticed a long, slightly raised scar that ran along the back of his left hand, all the way to his wrist. On instinct I wanted to know what it was, ask him about it…but that would have been rude and was not the point of tonight’s adventure.
“Um…so this whole game…this is kind of crazy, right?” I laughed nervously, folding the blindfold over my fingers. I couldn’t meet his eyeline.
He seemed to watch me with varying interest, like I was a puzzle he was trying to piece together, only realizing too late that he didn’t do puzzles and wasn’t sure why he was here.
“Right.” He laughed, stepping toward me.
Coming toe to toe with me, he slowly slipped the silk fabric from my grip. My chest began rising more intensely as his hand went to my waist, running his finger along my skin. Strangely enough, I didn’t experience any anxiety when I felt his touch.
I tipped my head back to take him in more fully. He had a strong, square jaw that narrowed at his chin, complete with a small dimple. His bottom lip was pouty while his top was more resolute, and his nose was straight and flared in perfection proportion to his face. His eyes looked dark green, almost muddy under the lights, but they seemed to glow in a way that had me captivated.
He inhaled sharply as his grip moved down and intensified at my hip. Those dark brows caved as though he was thinking of something to say. It went away just as he smiled darkly down at me.
“You’re my home run, tonight…better get to batting.” He playfully smiled, pulling me closer.
Right—the sex. Fuck.
“Okay…but um, I thought we could talk for a bit first.” I tucked a few pieces of hair behind my ear. Truth be told? I totally wouldn’t have minded this guy pinning me down and trailing kisses down my body while he made me come. If I met him in a bar, there was no way I wouldn’t be dying for a night in his bed. Even so, I had principles, and as shitty as it felt, I had to stand on them.