The front door opens to a grand foyer with an oversized Christmas tree smack in the center of the room for show. To the right is a large staircase leading up to the second and third floors. I lead Hollis through the house to the kitchen where I find Theodore and Louise Fielding. Like Barney Stinson, I’m pretty sure my father is always in a suit unless, of course, he’s in scrubs. My mother has gray slacks on with a white sweater, a Hermes scarf around her neck, and heels as if she’d ready to be photographed by a lifestyle magazine.
Considering Hollis and I just stepped off a plane, we’re severely underdressed by my mother’s standards. I don’t care what she says, though; there’s no way in hell I was going to wear heels on a freaking plane. I guess I could’ve forgone the leggings, but who the hell am I kidding? Sorry, Mom, leggings are life.
“Hello, I’m Hollis, it’s so nice to meet you both.” He extends a hand to my father first, which I’m sure my mother is offended by considering she views that as anti-feminist in her own twisted way. “These are for you.” He offers each of them a gift and I cringe.
I told him not to get them anything. No, I insisted it, but he didn’t listen. My parents aren’t exactly believers in gifts. They think it reinforces greed since children never play with them or grow out of them or what have you. It’s amazing they actually bought me shoes and clothes growing up, but then again, they’re all about appearances.
Hollis also didn’t bother to tell me what he bought them. I’m a ball of nervous energy as I wait for my parents to open the wrapped gifts.
“You really shouldn’t have,” my mother says before even opening the present.
Inside my father’s gift is a box of Cuban cigars and my mother’s has a fancy box of chocolate truffles. I cower and wait for the explosion. He managed to pick the two worst gifts to give them.
“Wonderful, you’ll get cancer and I’ll get diabetes. Thank you, Hollis.” They toss the gifts on the island, likely to be forgotten until the maid throws them away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper in his ear when my parents finally walk out of the room. He shrugs, taking it all in stride as I lead him out to the living room.
I walk directly to the bar cart. I know Hollis doesn’t drink much, but I pour him a scotch on the rocks, knowing he’s going to need a drink to deal with this weekend with my parents. After making my vodka tonic—extra heavy on the vodka—I join my boyfriend on the couch across from Jackson and Marcus. My parents are in their chairs beside the couches sitting silently. Judging.
“So, Hollis, what is it you do?”
“Mom, you know he’s a professional baseball player.”
“I thought you broke up with him ages ago.” She’s dismissive and takes a sip of her wine.
“What are your specialties?” At least Hollis will get points for directing the conversation back to them. There’s nothing my parents love more than to brag about all their accomplishments.
“I’m neuro, Ted is cardio.” For the first time in the history of my entire existence, my parents don’t get swept away in stories of their jobs. I swallow the rest of my drink in one gulp. “Lila, how is school treating you?” Her question is nasally and I can hear her eyes rolling in her tone.
“It’s good. Hard, but I’m learning a lot.”
My mother scoffs. “If you were going to waste your energy in nursing school learning the same stuff as you would in medical school, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t become a doctor. It’s a waste of time, of money.” She points to Jackson. “Look at your brother. He’s in medical school and he already met a lovely doctor.” I catch how her eyes soften both when referencing her son and now her new potential son-in-law. The insult burns hot in my chest.
“Right, because nurses do nothing and baseball players are deadbeats, how could I forget?” She rolls her eyes as if I’m the dramatic one. “Look, I’m exhausted from traveling. I’d really like to crash for the night.”
Hollis is gracious and says thank you and goodnight to everyone, lord knows why. My father hasn’t said a word since we got here, too engrossed in his newspaper. I notice my mother perk up as she talks to Marcus about his job.
I head upstairs to the third floor where I usually stay. The second floor is essentially a studio apartment and is reserved for their precious son. I wouldn’t be surprised if they expected Hollis and me to stay in separate rooms tonight.
If I were dating a plastic surgeon, they would’ve talked down on the specialty, saying it was easy and safe. They’d have made comments about liposuction and breast implants. If it were ortho, it would be, ‘oh, anyone can break a bone.’ I’m sure they’d find something to complain about even if I found someone who works in their own specialties’, too.
I don’t know what’s worse, that or this alternative, where they basically forgot Hollis existed and treated him and his job like a pariah. Yet I know it has nothing to do with my boyfriend and absolutely everything to do with me.
I storm up the stairs, heat coming out of my ears the entire way. It’s not fucking fair. If they didn’t want to have another kid, why did they? Why even follow through with it? I’m sure they wish they terminated me when the found out.
I tug on the ends of my hair and collapse on the bed in my temporary bedroom. Hot tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away, not letting them fall. My parents don’t get to win. They don’t get to hurt me.
Hollis sits down on the bed beside me and rubs my back. He seems speechless. I want to apologize to him for how rude they are, but it’s not my place. They should be the ones issuing the apology. It’s not my fault they’re rude, pretentious assholes.
“How did you get to be so wonderful despite them?” Hollis whispers in my ear, his head resting on my shoulder.
“I’d be convinced I was adopted if not for the fact they’d never adopt a child willingly.” I let out an emotionless laugh and sniffle my feelings away. “You should’ve stayed home with your parents. I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to be here with you. I’m glad I came, but next year I get dibs.”
“Next year, huh?” I smile and turn my head. He reads my silent request and pecks me on the lips.
“I love you, Lila. I’m not going anywhere. One day, you’ll realize that.” He brushes my tears away and I lean my chin up to kiss him once more.
I choose to believe him. He’s my ounce of happiness shining through on this already horrific trip.
I sleep restlessly and wake up with bags under my eyes I’m sure I’ll hear about all day. I spend the next forty-eight hours playing nice with my parents, trying to convince them to like Hollis. I brag about his rookie year, his World Series win, how talented and spectacular he is. They might as well have said ‘No habla baseball’ in return with the looks they gave me.
“That was the weirdest Christmas ever,” Hollis informs me while we wait in the airport to board our flight. “No presents, no Christmas movies, no baking cookies. Your dad leaving halfway through dinner because of a surgery he wasn’t even on call for? All around bizarre.”
“At least we had ham. Half the time growing up we had Chinese takeout with the nanny.”
“I’m telling you, next year you’ll get the Christmas of your dreams.” I kiss him. While I’m glad to be heading home, I wish my break from school was longer and I could spend more time with him. He’s staying with me through the New Year before heading home to Boston. I already hate the thought of him leaving.
We spend the rest of the week in bed, making love, soaking up one another. We ring in the New Year in a similar fashion, not bothering with any parties despite Leo’s insistence. I pull on one of Hollis’ shirts, toast my friend in the hallway, and slam the door in his face to return to bed. That’s all the excitement he’s getting out of me.
Tomorrow, Hollis has to head home and I don’t plan to sleep at all. I’ll feel guilty about keeping him up all night, but after this, I won’t see him for a couple of months.
I’m sure I sound spoiled. People have it way wors
e and see their loved ones way less. This is one of my first real relationships, aside from my high school boyfriend who took my virginity. Truth be told, I like being spoiled. I liked living with him after we just met. I liked being spontaneous.
Call me codependent, I don’t care. This is how I do love and if it works for us, that’s all that matters.
THIRTY-TWO
Hollis
I rotate my arm, warming up my shoulder before our game. Spring training is in full swing and it feels damn good to be back on the field. I toss the ball back and forth with the pitching coach to work over the muscle so as to not injure it more. I’ve had issues for a while now and I’m being careful to not exacerbate the condition.
Maybe tonight I can have Lila massage me. Though, with the two of us, if she’s touching me after this long, she won’t be focusing on my sore shoulder. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s Day and after this week I don’t know when I’ll see her next. Our sporadic schedules are killing me. I thought during off season I’d be able to see her more, but that hadn’t been the case. She’s insanely busy all the time. Now, I’m about to be just as busy once again. It’s only going to get harder to see her from here on out.
At least she only has one more year of school. I still see her frequently enough, but also not enough to get my fill of her. The truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of her. I want her all the time. It consumes me. I’m fucking pussy whipped.
She’s spending the day with Bridget and I’ll get to see her tonight, of course. The waiting is killing me. It’s like my body knows she’s close and I’m anxious to be with her. I’m impatient and dying to see her, kiss her, taste her.
I get my head back in the game and focus on pitching. After a World Series win, all eyes are on us. We’re expected to perform just as good this year to prove it wasn’t a fluke. Once the game starts, I lose myself, focusing on nothing but the players in front of me and the ball leaving my hands. Since it’s spring training, a lot of teams don’t use their A-team players and I don’t pitch a full game. We have to ease back into it.
After five innings, I’m swapped out and relax in the dugout. It’s killing me being in here. The game is moving much slower, dragging on, now that I’m not pitching. I’m ready for the game to end so I can see my girl.
We end up losing. It’s not ideal, but it doesn’t count for anything anyway. The most important thing is getting home to Lila.
I walk into the hotel room and hear the shower running. Tossing my things on the ground and kicking off my shoes, I open the bathroom door. Standing in the middle of the glass shower, sopping wet, and waiting for me, is Lila. What a fucking sight she is.
Her nipples are puckered and her head is bent back. Water glides over her body and her dirty blonde hair looks darker saturated with water. She’s a vision, a vixen, a fucking wet dream—one I’ve had countless times over the past few months.
“I thought you might be dirty after your game.” She doesn’t even open her eyes when she talks to me. She just knows I’m here, watching her. And she puts on a show.
Her hands glide over her, close to all the parts of her body I want to devour. She’s teasing me and I’m a bomb close to detonating. I need her. Now.
I rip off my clothes, not giving a fuck that I already showered in the locker room. I walk right into the water and envelop her, pulling her against me, and kissing her perfect pink lips. She opens her mouth to me and moans at the contact.
This is our first encounter since I left her on New Year’s Day and I couldn’t have planned it better myself. She knows me, she gets me. I never want to lose her. I kiss my way down her neck, toward her breasts and lower. We slip against one another, but I’m not interested in kissing her mouth. I push her back until she’s flush up against the wall and out of the spray of the waterfall showerhead.
I get down on my knees to worship her. I don’t go easy on her either. I bite and suck on her sensitive bud until she cries out. Her hand grips my hair and I glance up at her as I eat her. I lick up everything she has to offer until I’m sure the people staying in the room next door are hearing secondhand porn. Her breathing is erratic and her moans echo in the bathroom. I don’t relent, not until her legs squeeze my head and they’re shaking, unable to hold her up. She comes all over my tongue and I drink her up like my life depends on it. She’s my personal source of nectar and I’ve never tasted anything sweeter. I wouldn’t care if I never tasted anything else ever again as long as I had her.
Breathless and unsteady, she grips my arm while I push off the ground, using me to keep her balance. I’m rock hard, ready to pick her up and fuck her into oblivion. She’s still catching her breath when I lean down and press a kiss to her lips. I’m willing to give her the reprieve she seems to need, but she deepens the kiss. It’s all the push I need.
I wrap my palms around her thighs and tug her up. I keep her pushed against the wall to help support her weight. Like a good girl, she wraps her legs around my back and I don’t hesitate for another moment. I shove into her. I don’t let her adjust to my size, either. I fuck her senseless, the slick, slapping sounds as erotic as this moment.
Hearing Lila moan and call out my name urges me on. I’m seconds away from spilling my load inside of her. There’s nothing hotter than watching my cum drip down her thighs.
“God dammit, Lila, I love you so fucking much,” I tell her, not because I’m in the heat of the moment, but because it’s true. If I were in the heat of the moment, I’d ask her to marry me again, but the next time I do, I’m going to make sure she says yes. I still feel bad about what happened that night, but I don’t regret it. I meant every word. If she would’ve said yes, I would’ve been the happiest man alive. I would’ve followed through, supported whatever dream she wanted, stood by her through school or kids, buying her a house and a car. Anything she could imagine would be hers.
Will be hers. When I get her to say yes.
The thoughts of marrying her is what sends me overboard. I come long and hard, pumping into her until I have nothing left to offer. She’s my haven, my safe space. She’s everything I never knew I wanted and now I have her and I’m never letting her go.
I wake up in the best fucking way. Wet, hot heat swallows my cock. The sensation pulls me from my sleep; besides, this is better than any dream I could’ve come up with.
Lila’s nothing but a mound under the covers working her magic. I let out a deep, groggy groan and push the covers back to see her. She glances up, her blue eyes piercing mine, her mouth full of my dick. I brush some loose hair behind her ear and keep my hand placed on the back of her head.
I watch enamored as she bobs up and down, taking me as far as she can fit until I slide down the back of her throat. She gags on me and I get even harder. She uses her other hand to cover the parts of me she can’t fit in her mouth. The sensation is too damn good for this early in the morning.
When she reaches down to cup my balls in her tiny, warm palm, I lose it. “Lila, baby,” she looks up at me and I take over. I ease her into it, fucking her mouth slowly until I know what she can handle. Even then, I push her just a little bit further. I can’t help it; I love the feel of her gagging on my cock. I wrap her blonde hair around my fist and push her ever so slightly past her limit.
“I’m gonna come, baby,” I say as I loosen my fist, giving her the option to back away if she doesn’t want to swallow.
Of course, she goes harder, deeper. I finish in her mouth and she wipes her red, swollen lips with the back of her hand. She kisses me before lying back down beside me.
“Good morning to you too,” I tell her.
She blushes at that, despite literally having my dick in her mouth moments ago. Sometimes I feel bad, like our relationship right now is suspended in a state of hookups. If people didn’t know any better, they’d probably assume she was a convenient friend with benefits, coming around only when beckoned.
The things I feel for Lila aren’t casual at all though. They’re
intense, all-consuming. Every time I have to say goodbye to her, she takes a piece of my heart with her. I sound like a goddamn sap, but it’s true. She’s infiltrated my heart, owning it more than I thought anyone ever would.
I thought my true purpose in life was baseball and I was destined to be great at it. Love? Who needs it? I had love—for the game. Nothing else mattered.
Baseball still matters. It’s my career, my life, but it’s not my everything. Lila took over a large chunk of my heart, overpowering my first love of the game. She’s sneaky like that, and strong. Steadfast. I’ve never once wavered in my feelings for her; with how intense they are, there is no second guessing. She’s branded me, burned her name into my soul.
“What was that for?” I ask her, my voice slow and lazy still from sleep and from being sated.
“I never returned the favor. I thought it was overdue.”
I won’t complain.
“Want to grab breakfast? Or are you full?” I smirk, loving how easily I’m able to turn her pale skin a deep shade of pink.
She nods and stretches. My t-shirt she’s wearing rides up, showing me her blue panties and a sliver of pale skin. Fuck. Breakfast can wait.
THIRTY-THREE
Lila
It’s a goddamn miracle I have a Sunday off of school and work. Part of me is starting to understand and sympathize with my parents. The episodes don’t last long, but I must say, I get it. I get the drive, the hunger to work, the satisfaction of helping someone. Some people can balance both helping strangers and raising their kids, but that’s neither here nor there. I try to let go of some of my anger toward them, but it’s futile. Maybe when I have kids of my own I’ll understand their struggle more, but I don’t see that happening.
When I got back from spring break and visiting Hollis and Bridget in Florida, I took root once again in the library. I might as well have a reserved sign placed on my favorite desk since it’s where I spend fifty percent of my time. The other fifty percent is spent at the hospital for my clinical rotation. I thought it was bad before, how infrequently I was able to go home. This is a whole new level.
Fastball Flirt (The Boys of Summer Series Book 1) Page 19