Pitcher

by Kristy Marie

  Truth be told, we’re scared. We’ve been through so much. What if we take this step and destroy the only good relationship we have?

  Yeah, it’s a fine line. And we walk it every single day.

  I chance a look through the glass doors leading out to the patio and see Theo glaring at me. A girl with chestnut hair is wrapped around him, playing with the curls sticking out of the bottom of his hat.

  My curls.

  Immediately I sober, glaring right back at the man I’m riding home with. Maybe. I might decide to ride home with someone else now.

  “So are you two like… together?”

  Bo is not letting this go. Good. I could use a distraction since Theo is obviously celebrating without me.

  “No, we’re just friends,” I grit out before turning around and flashing him a fake smile.

  Friends. Fucking friends.

  Ugh.

  Bo grins, and it’s easy and extremely cute. “Good. Just friends is great.”

  Is it, Bo? Really?

  I try not to frown and agree like I’m supposed to. “Yep.”

  Back in the game, Bo extends his hand to me, the pong ball elevated in his fingers. “Blow and give me good luck.”

  And this is why Bo and I would never work.

  Skill and luck are two separate things. We aren’t at a wishing well here. We are playing a game. A game that requires skill. A skill Thad and I have and Bo lacks. Blowing on his fucking ball is not going to help any of us.

  But the hope and innocence on his face makes me feel like shit, so I do it anyway.

  “Maybe I’ll just keep this ball instead?” he teases.

  Ugh. Yeah, see? No, this will not work, but before I can respond my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  Theo: This isn’t Vegas. Douche doesn’t need you spitting on his ball. He already sucks enough.

  This motherfucker.

  How dare he insult me for blowing on the boy’s ball for luck?

  Anniston: This isn’t a pay by the hour motel. You and Monica need to take your horrible manners to a back room and not where everyone can witness your tasteless attraction.

  I watch as he reads my message, a slow grin pulling across his face. A second later, another text dings.

  Theo: Her name is Martha, and she’s giving me tips on deep conditioning my hair.

  He’s fucking with me and trying to make me laugh. It’s not going to work this time.

  Anniston: Her name is Monica, and she’s a Poli Sci major. Take it somewhere else.

  I start to tuck my phone away when a terrible wave of pettiness hits me, and I send one more.

  Anniston: Like I’m about to.

  With one last smirk in Theo’s direction, I tuck my phone away and turn to the table, intent on ignoring him for the rest of the evening. Let him have a blast with Monica or Martha, or whatever he wants to call her.

  “Is it my turn again?” I ask the guys. Thad nods, taking a sip of his own beer, since apparently the drunken baseball players won’t be able to score.

  Good. I take the ball, eyeing the last cup on the right side and take a deep breath.

  You got this, Anniston. Let it all go. Let the fact you got up at 5:00 a.m. this morning to run with Theo before you massaged his shoulder until your hand cramped so bad you had to ice it.

  Let go of the fact you made him a protein shake and stayed up late watching game footage until you fell asleep, taking notes of his competitors’ weaknesses just so he would be ready for tonight’s game.

  Let go that he will probably make you bum a ride so he can go back to Monica’s and get a victory blowie on her pink bedspread.

  Let it go that he doesn’t want to celebrate his win with you.

  With one last breath, I release the ball and it bounces with grace and lands dead center into the last cup.

  Thad whoops the loudest, but it’s Bo that shocks me the most by lifting me in his arms and swinging me around.

  “You are a beast!” he praises, his laughter overshadowing the groans of the baseball team.

  I find myself laughing as he twirls me around and around until a sharp sting to my leg stops us both.

  “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

  Bo places me on my feet and squats down to look at my leg where he banged it on the edge of the ping pong table.

  “It’s okay.” I wave him off. “I’ll be fine.”

  His eyes narrow, and his hand hesitates at my leg as if he’s contemplating touching me.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  I look down and, sure enough, I am.

  “It’s just a scratch,” I argue. “I’ll clean it up in the bathroom.”

  Bo, being the chivalrous southerner, isn’t having it. “Come on, my friend lives here. I’m sure he has bandages somewhere.”

  Before I can argue, I’m being pulled up the stairs and into some dude’s room. It’s clean-ish. His clothes are scattered around the floor like makeshift rugs to cover the million stains on the carpet, but the bed is made and that surprises me the most.

  “Stay here. I’ll check the bathroom for a first aid kit.”

  Bo flashes me a genuine smile before he taps the doorframe and darts off to save the day. You have to give it to him, even if he is a terrible beer pong player; he’s a really sweet guy. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to discount him as a potential boyfriend. I mean, what if Theo and I never become more than friends? What if Bo turns into the next millionaire, and I end up having to go on a reality show to find a man?

  “I promise not to move,” I tell him, making myself comfortable on a stranger’s bed.

  Bo nods, and it’s the flicker in his gaze that has me swallowing past a sudden knot in my throat.

  Don’t complicate things for me, Bo. I’m not sure I can handle it. I’ve lived my entire teen years knowing exactly who I want. I can’t afford to crush those fantasies yet. I might not survive it.

  While I wait for Bo to return, I chance the risk of catching an incurable disease and lie back on what I hope is a clean quilt.

  “I’m not helping you raise another man’s baby, just so you know.”

  The sound of his voice has me shooting upright.

  Casually leaning against the frame of the door is the man who let me pee in his Yeti cup when I refused to squat in the woods when we camped for the first and last time. There were snakes, okay? I’m not that outdoorsy.

  Fighting back a grin, I counter, “Who says we won’t live happily ever after?”

  His eyes roll, but he doesn’t move from his position. “How many times do I have to tell you, McCallister? A wet hole is a wet hole to these guys. Unless love is a metaphorical term for a condom, it doesn’t come into play during sex.”

  His words are biting, and they chip away at the edges of my heart, but I remain unaffected. This is his way of pushing everyone away. Except me. I’m stronger than he thinks. I’m still here, rooted firmly to the ground.

  “Are those the sweet words you used to lure Monica into a dark closet?”

  I really don’t want to know, but I can’t help myself.

  He smirks.

  “Mavis required zero effort on my part. I could have just unzipped my pants and she would have face planted into my crotch.”

  Vulgar and crass. Another deterrent from the actual truth. But he said, “could have.” He could have unzipped his pants, but he didn’t, and that makes me all kinds of excited.

  “Monica sounds like a rare gem,” I muse too happily.

  Theo grunts. “Where’s your little lap dog?”

  His raspy voice shouldn’t make me want to fuck with him, but that’s exactly what I do.

  “He needed to grab something from the bathroom.” I shrug. Let Theo assume Bo went to get a condom.

  Theo’s eyes narrow into slits right at the time Bo’s excited voice carries down the hallway. “Found one!”

  At the sound of Bo’s footsteps, Theo pushes off the doorframe and stands in the center, causing Bo to run into his hulking body.<
br />
  “Oomph. Uh…?”

  Theo rights poor Bo and pats him on the chest. Bo looks at me over his shoulder, his forehead creased in the middle. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

  Theo plucks the bandage from his fingers and examines it without a word.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asks Bo with incredulity.

  “A bandage?” Bo sounds unsure, and it makes me laugh. Theo has that effect on people.

  “Why do you have a bandage?”

  Apparently Theo needs it broken down for him.

  “Anniston, she uh…” Bo runs his hands through his hair, and Theo decides he’s done trying to pull answers from someone who can’t form complete sentences.

  “Why do you need a fucking bandage, Ans?” His stare is fierce as his eyes roam up and down my body, looking for the injury and finally noticing my leg. He rushes in and kneels in front of me, his fingers softly probing the tender skin on my shin.

  “It’s just a scratch,” I offer, but Bo decides to be Honest Abe and piss Theo off even more.

  “I accidentally swung her into the table.”

  Theo’s hand tightens around my leg, and I quickly distract him by lifting his chin so he can look at me, but it doesn’t matter because the asshole has already been unleashed.

  “I can take it from here,” he grounds out, surprising me. That wasn’t too asshole.

  With one last look at Bo, I offer a smile. “See ya later, Bo. Thanks for the bandage.”

  No use in promising to see him again. We both know I won’t.

  His smile is weak, but he nods in return. “Maybe we’ll see each other on campus.”

  Theo’s hand spasms against my skin, and I know for Bo’s safety he should probably go.

  “Hopefully,” I say, praying he takes the hint.

  Theo decides enough is enough and jumps in. “Hopefully you won’t make her bleed the next time you see her.”

  Oh hell.

  With that, Bo leaves. I push at Theo’s shoulder.

  “It’s a fucking scratch, not malaria. What’s your deal?”

  He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he opens the wrapped bandage and proceeds to gently cover the wound. “You made me believe you and he were about to have sex,” he accuses, never meeting my eyes.

  “And? What if we were?”

  He softly presses the adhesive to my skin before lowering his head and placing a kiss to the edge. A tingle shoots down my spine, and I stifle a gasp, reaching for his head, still covered with a cap. How I want to snatch it off and run my fingers through his hair…

  With his eyes still on my leg, he sits upright, his hands rubbing up my thighs and stopping at the hem of my shorts. My breath catches in my throat. This is it. This is when he makes his move.

  Except, he stops. His fingers halt their advance as his chest rises and falls harshly.

  “Theo,” I whisper between us.

  His chest rumbles and a groan fills the quiet space, and his head lowers again, this time hovering over my center. Lower, he inches down until his nose is nearly pushed in between my thighs. My breath is choppy and harsh as I wait to see what he does next as his fingers tighten, holding me close.

  “Mmm…,” he hums, the sexy sound vibrating between my legs and sending chills along my arms.

  And then his mouth descends on me, his wet tongue licking the muscle of my thigh right before he…

  “Ow!” I cry out, shoving a laughing Theo away. “What the fuck?” I rub the blooming red mark. “Why did you bite me, asshole?”

  His expression is a mixture of smug and pissed.

  “Come on, I’m ready to go. This party fucking sucks.”

  I could smell her. An alluring exotic flavor specifically tailored to my taste. Anniston McCallister had me aching in my jeans. Fucking aching. I was so close… So close to just giving in to the selfish part of me and taking what I wanted.

  Her.

  But I didn’t. Thad would be proud.

  “What do you mean, this party sucks? You’re the one who wanted to come.”

  I can’t tell her I couldn’t focus after seeing her being pulled up the stairs like a sacrificial lamb. I shoved Monica into Brody faster than she could promise me a lackluster blow job.

  Nothing was stopping me from snatching Anniston’s ass off some flea-ridden bed and tossing her into my car. Hines would be appalled at her behavior.

  And it was all for a motherfucking bandage.

  This clumsy dipshit knocked her glorious legs into the damn table… what an idiot.

  “I didn’t want to come,” I say, grabbing Anniston’s hand and tugging her behind me. “I was obligated to come. And I did.” I shrug. “Now we can leave.”

  I pull us through the mass of sweaty bodies and hold my breath. Deodorant apparently comes at a premium at this party.

  “What about Thad?”

  God-fucking-dammit.

  I throw my head back, done with this fucking night already.

  Reluctantly, I let her hand go to grab my phone and find my fucking brother who she just had to invite.

  “There he is,” she shouts, saving me the trouble of calling him.

  Cupping my hands on each side of my mouth, I shout over the heads of the people in my way.

  “Thad! Let’s go, fucker, or I’m leaving you.”

  Thad’s head lifts from the guy he’s talking to. He sees my face and then glances back at Anniston.

  What the actual fuck?

  “Are you coming or what?”

  It wouldn’t be too awful if I just left him, right?

  “I’ll get a ride from Brody,” he yells in return.

  Finally something goes right.

  I nod in return and grab Anniston’s hand, reaching the car faster than she can see clumsy-ass Bo watching her with something like desire from the corner.

  I get her buckled in and trot around the front of the car before getting in and sighing with something like relief.

  She gives me a minute before she says, “You okay to drive?”

  I cut her a look. Does she honestly think I would risk her life and mine by driving drunk?

  “I’m fine. I only had one beer.”

  She shrugs. “Just checking.”

  We drive in silence after that. Neither of us bother turning the radio on or filling the silence with talking. It isn’t until I pull into the parking lot of the stadium that she speaks.

  “You want to work on a pitch?”

  Everything in me wants to pop off with something asshole, but I hold back because that’s not why I brought her to the baseball field.

  “Come on,” I tell her softly.

  She follows, completely trusting. I take her hand again, and when we get to the locked gate of the field, I tip my chin. We’re going to have to climb over. The few security lights are still on, so it won’t be a big deal. The outer fence is only four foot. Anniston and I have climbed taller fences in the dark before.

  I climb over first and offer my hand to help her over, which she doesn’t accept.

  “What are we doing, Theo?”

  Yes, what are we doing, Theo?

  “Race me.”

  Her hearty laugh makes me smile.

  “You’re serious?” she says, already slipping off her sandals.

  That’s my girl… She never turns down a competition.

  “Is it your ADHD? You need to run it out?”

  It would be so easy to just agree and not make her think this is anything but just wanting to spend time with her on the ball field under the stars.

  Rather than answer her, I deflect. “Are you scared I might beat you, McCallister?”

  At my challenge, her smile turns into something devious. “I’m never scared, Von Bremen.”

  I swallow. She’s never scared, but I am.

  Shrugging off that voice that is nagging me to tell her how I really feel, I make my way to home plate and raise my brows. “Are you coming?”

  At my comment, she hurries to my side. Facing the
first base bag, both of us ready into a crouch.

  “On the count of three…”

  Anniston nods her agreement, and I count down. “One…two…”

  At “three” we both take off. Anniston is several steps ahead of me. I’m no loser though, so I put all my weight forward before lunging and tackling her to the ground at shortstop.

  “Theo!” she hollers in between laughter. “You are such a sore loser!”

  Or an opportunist. I can see it both ways.

  I make sure I roll us around, reddening her blonde hair with the infield’s red dirt. She’s squealing, fighting my hold as the air grows dusty around us.

  “I’m getting filthy,” she cries in my arms.

  Not filthy enough, but I don’t say that.

  “You’re not becoming a girl on me, are you?”

  It’s a stupid thing to say because she stops laughing. “I’ve always been a girl, Theo.”

  I stop rolling, hovering over her in the dirt. “I fucking know,” I growl.

  Seriously, I jerked off every day I got home from school. Some would say that’s normal for a teenage boy, but when you have to do it every time after seeing her, it gets a little weird.

  Sighing, Anniston shoves me off, and I lie beside her, both of us staring at the clear skies.

  After a moment, when we both have settled down, she speaks. “Are you scared?”

  It feels like I’ve been shot. My chest spasms and fear creeps up my spine when I answer, dreading her response. “About what?”

  A pregnant pause hangs between when she finally responds. “About moving. About leaving Georgia…”

  I clear my throat, buying time. The truth is, I could give two shits about leaving Georgia. I care about leaving her, which is why I do this dance with her on a daily basis.

  About a year ago, I had acted shitty when some frat boy showed up at our door intending on taking Anniston out. She happened to still be at school, but Thad was there, and he witnessed me ripping up Dude’s number and flushing it down the toilet.

  I hadn’t felt bad about it at all. Anniston didn’t need to go out with this dude. He was wearing tennis shorts for heaven’s sake. Tennis. Shorts. Let that sink in for a moment. Does Anniston strike you as someone who could hang at a country club? The girl drops way too many F-bombs. She would have embarrassed that little piece of man meat before they even ordered the main course.