by Croft, Rose
I grasped my phone.
Me: John, please tell me you’re ok. I watched your game. You’re really good.
I waited for a response knowing that he was probably still having the scan. Forty-five minutes later, I still hadn’t heard anything. I stretched out on the couch and kept watching ESPN, waiting to hear any updates on him. Maybe he didn’t want to speak to me. They kept replaying what happened. And the more I saw it, the more I grew sick with worry. I texted him again, not thinking about my pride. I truly needed to know he was okay.
Me: If you don’t want to speak to me, fine. I get it. But, just let me know you’re ok.
Thirty minutes later, I heard my phone chime. Relief mixed with excitement buzzed through me. I jerked my phone off the table anxious to see the text bubble.
John: I ok. Ha r u n ur bobs?
What kind of message was that? Was he asking about my boobs? I momentarily forgot about my concern for him.
Me: ???? I don’t understand your text. I’m an English teacher, remember?
An hour later, I heard my phone signal beside my bed as I was beginning to fall asleep. I cursed and checked it. If this was another text about my boobs, I was blocking his number.
John: I’m sorry for the previous text. I’m on pain medication.
My mouth lifted.
Me: Are you all right?
John: Yes. They didn’t see anything wrong on the scan. I have ten stitches in my upper lip. My mouth is numb. I’m still a little buzzed. Anything I say could be a little crazy, but I’ll try my best to edit my texts, teacher.
Me: Ten stitches, oh no. That seemed painful.
John: No big deal. You watched my game?
Me: Yes. I saw you hit a home run. Wow, you can hit the ball far.
John: I had two home runs, actually. And, yes I knocked the shit out of it.
Apparently, ten stitches on the mouth didn’t keep him from brag texting.
Me: Are you staying at the hospital or are they releasing you?
John: They want to keep me here overnight to make sure I’m ok. Why did it take so long for you to contact me? I’ve missed you.
I didn’t know how to respond that question. Why didn’t he contact me? I saw the dots moving.
John: You’re so mean Rose. I think you need to send me another picture to cheer me up.
Me: I don’t think so. Is that the only reason you want to talk to me?
The dots were moving. Well, Rose you set yourself up for that when you decided to FaceTime him. However, this time I swear to God I’ll block him if he keeps on with this.
John: No, but looking at you lifts my spirits, especially when I see your two beautiful perky friends.
That didn’t sound like a blockable offense.
Me: Ok. Now, I know the drugs are talking.
A few minutes later, he sent another text with a picture—of his face.
John: Looks like I got my ass kicked in a fight. Right?
Me: Oh my God. Are you sure you’re ok? You look horrible.
His upper lip was stitched, engorged, red, and crusted with blood. The side of his face was bruised and swollen too.
John: Thanks for the words of encouragement. Yes, I’m fine. Send me a picture.
I wasn’t doing that again. I smiled as I typed. Goodnight John.
John: Wait! Don’t go. Talk to me.
Me: Ok. Just talking.
John: Fine. Here’s a test. What position do I play?
Oh, I got this one. Glad I asked Loren.
Me: First base?
John: Wow. Smiley face for that one. How many innings are in a game?
I had no idea because I wasn’t paying attention. I Googled it on my phone. As I was looking up the answer he texted:
What’s taking so long? That’s an easy question? Are you looking it up, cheater?
Me: No. I’m not cheating. There are nine innings. Everyone knows that.
John: Liar! What number do I wear?
Dammit, I never noticed. I was too busy checking out his ass. I had to look up the answer to this one too. The lull caused him to reply:
Seriously Rose? You don’t know? What kind of fan are you?
Me: Yes I do. It’s 23. Has that always been your number?
John: Yeah, since I played little league. I was a big Michael Jordan fan.
Me: Who is Michael Jordan?
John: You don’t know who he is?!?! He’s probably the best basketball player ever. Rose, you really are challenged when it comes to sports.
Me: Okay, ass…this is me going to sleep.
John: Don’t go, please. I’m just playing.
Me: I have a question for you. Why do you spit so much in the little cave area you were sitting in?
John: Cave? Lol. It’s called a dugout. Baby, you make me laugh, but it hurts when I do that so go easy on me. I didn’t know I spit that much. I guess its just habit. Sorry.
Me: I don’t want to hurt you by making you laugh. Maybe I should let you go and get some rest.
John: I’m fine, Rose. Just keep talking to me. I don’t like hospitals, and I don’t like to be alone in them either. Talking to you gives me some sort of comfort.
Talking to him gave me some sort of comfort, too. I liked his cheesy sense of humor for some reason and I didn’t know why.
Me: Ok.
John: How did you know I was playing tonight?
Me: I happened to see the game on as I was passing through the channels.
John: So that was probably the first baseball game you’ve ever watched?
Me: Yeah, basically.
John: Was it easy to follow?
Me: I don’t know a lot of the terminology, but I will get it eventually. When I saw you bat for the first time, I didn’t understand why you stood there and didn’t swing at the first throw. Loren kind of explained it to me.
John: Yeah, I was waiting for a good pitch. However, you saw what I did to the second one…
Me: Of course. You knew what you were doing. I could tell how full of yourself you were as you ran around the bases.
John: You liked that didn’t you?
Me: Meh.
John: WHAT???? I’m glaring at you right now. And that hurts too.
I laughed.
Me: I’m kidding. I was very proud of you.
John: That’s what I thought.
Me: Do you ever get scared facing a ball that is going over 90mph.
John: Not really. I’m used to it.
Me: Have you ever been hit before?
John: Yes, but not in the face.
Me: I’m so glad you’re ok. When I saw that happen, I was really scared. I can’t imagine how you felt.
John: I think the first thing I felt after dropping to the ground was shock, and the pain came immediately after, and I tasted blood. Anyway, not to get too graphic, I’m glad you were concerned for me.
Me: How come you were trying to touch that guy that was standing beside you at first base with your glove?
John: I was trying to get him out. If he is not touching a base, I could’ve gotten him out by tagging him with the ball.
I was still a little confused but let it go. But, there was something else that I couldn’t help asking.
Me: Why did you keep grabbing yourself?
No immediate response, then I saw the dots appear. Why did I ask him that? And, I hadn’t even had anything to drink.
John: What were you watching Rose?
I could just hear the smirk in his voice.
Me: Never mind. Scratch that question.
John: You just said scratch too? Seriously, I was probably adjusting my cup. We wear one for protection.
Me: Oh, ok. I thought maybe you had to go to the bathroom or something.
John: How can you be a prude, then dirty, then hilarious? You’re too damn cute for your own good. I think you owe me that picture after I now have a mental image of you looking at my nether region.
I laughed knowing he was teasing. I was also smiling
at his compliment like a teenager. I must admit I was impressed with the language he used in his texts. Of course, texts have auto correct, but he seemed to have some command over the English language.
I stood up and posed. My face was make-up free, and I had my hair pulled back in a ponytail. I took a few selfies. Deleted. Took a few more until I was finally satisfied with one.
Me: Here’s a pic. The only one you’re getting tonight.
John: Aw, you look so beautiful. I wish I could see you in person. Now, I’m going to be staring at this picture all night.
Was he serious? I probably had a few red spots on my face from pimples that had popped up.
Me: Thanks. I would stare at your picture too, but it kind of turns my stomach a little.
John: Ouch.
Maybe that was rude. I didn’t actually mean it.
Me: I’m kidding. You look really good in a uniform.
John: That’s better. I bet you would look good in my uniform too. I’d like to see that.
Me: Maybe. A guy can dream, right?
John: I always dream about you.
I snickered. He was so full of shit, but his words had my heart racing nonetheless.
Me: By all means…dream a little dream.
There was no response for several minutes. He was probably falling asleep from the medication. Besides, my phone was about to die, and it was late. I hooked my phone up to the charger in the kitchen. Smiling, I returned to my room.
Someone awakened me, and it startled me because I had no idea where I was. However, I realized it was a nurse checking to make sure I was conscious. Then, I felt sharp pain on my lips and teeth, and remembered why I was here.
After the nurse left, I grabbed my phone to check the time. It was 4:00am. I noticed the text bubble from Rose that said By all means…dream a little dream. Sweetheart, if you only knew.
I opened up our thread and scrolled to her picture. I clicked on it and stared. I started to smile and whimpered like a baby because it hurt like hell. Note to self—do not do that.
Regardless, I studied her face. She had on her glasses, and her hair was pulled back. She wasn’t wearing make-up, but her exotic dark brown eyes were striking, and her full lips were naturally a dark pink. Stunning, absolutely stunning. Her teeth were white and straight. Everything about her seemed perfect.
I’d thought about her non-stop for the past few weeks. Yeah, I never studied the cleavage pic she’d sent a few weeks ago at all. And, no, I never jerked off to that picture. Total lie. Now, I had a picture of her face, which I quickly saved for future purposes. This was normal, right? I mean, it’s not like I was sending ransom notes with the words pasted in newspaper/magazine clippings to her.
But, this girl had been on my mind constantly. I still had vivid memories of her wild hair around her face and her magnificent boobs. I wished I would’ve had the wherewithal to screenshot her tits when she FaceTimed me.
However, that sounded very creeper-like to do that without her consent. And, she’d been inebriated. Maybe, I should just delete the last few thoughts I had in my head because it seemed like I was a sick bastard. Start collecting newspapers and magazines, John, you psycho.
I was initially angry after she did a one-eighty on me but later didn’t even care. I still wanted to see her, and I was about to break my resolve and contact her regardless. But, she texted me last night.
Rose had actually watched my game. And, that’s probably the only reason she had texted because she saw me get hurt. I honestly would’ve rather not taken a ball to the face to get her attention. However, I was glad she talked to me. I was serious about my dislike of hospitals.
I hoped to be released to go home today. I should as soon as I received clearance. I knew I would have a few days off to recover.
It was late afternoon when I was finally released and returned to my condo. The team put me on a 10-day disabled list with a lip laceration.
I sat on the couch and clicked the remote. I aimlessly stared at the flat screen as I again thought about Rose for the millionth time. I wondered what she was doing. It was the end of July, so I assumed she was still on summer break.
I picked up my phone, and clicked on her picture saving it under contact information. Then, I called her.
After the fourth ring, she answered. “Hello.”
“Hey.”
“How are you feeling?” She’d obviously saved my name under contacts too.
“I’m okay. My mouth is really sore.”
“Are you still at the hospital?”
“No. They let me go home.”
“Great. Have you been able to eat anything?”
“Only liquids, and I had to use a straw to sip it. I’m actually fucking starving right now.” That was the truth. I loved to eat and could eat a lot. My stomach was grumbling as I thought about food.
“I’m sorry, John. That’s sounds terrible. I bet you can put away food.”
I smiled at her comment and then groaned because it hurt. Shit. Stop doing that.
“Oh, no, are you in pain?” Her voice was laced with concern and that soothed my pain
“I’m all right. What are you doing?”
“I just got out of the shower.”
Fuck! Now, I was hungry and horny. “That’s nice.” I tried to keep my voice steady as I ran my hand over my stomach and then lower. I had a visual of her soapy hands tweaking her nipples. “So, did you enjoy it?” I’d just reached the tip of my cock as my fingers spread around.
“Enjoy my shower?” She repeated for clarity. And, where did her sexy voice go? “Is this why you called me? Maybe I should let you go.” Her words were like a fucking ice pick. Was I seriously about to stroke myself when I was on the phone with her? What the hell was wrong with me?
“I’m sorry, Rose. I was teasing,” No, I wasn’t. But, I wanted to talk to her. “Do you have any plans this evening?”
“Nope.”
“I obviously have no plans either. I wish you were nearby, so you could bring me some food.” That was true. Food and sex went hand-in-hand with me.
“If I lived nearby I would. But, first I would have to get dressed because I’m sitting on my bed naked.”
And there went my imagination again. “Dammit, that’s just wrong.”
She laughed. “I’m kidding. Can you eat solids now?”
“Yeah, in small pieces.”
“I could look up places online near you and order something for you…”
“Rose that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever offered to do.” Second to showing me your tits.
“Let me get my iPad,” she said, and I waited. “Okay, what are you in the mood for?”
You. “Mmm, I don’t know. Something that I don’t have to chew a lot because my teeth hurt too.”
“How about Italian?”
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
“Okay. Do you mind giving me your address, so I can find a restaurant nearby? I promise I’m not asking for it so I can stalk you.”
“Are you kidding, Rose? I’d love for you to stalk me,” I teased, and gave her the address.
She found a place that delivered and read over the menu.
“Just pick something for me. I trust you.”
“How about I order you a Caesar salad with extra anchovies?”
“Yeah, no, that’s okay, I’ll pass on that.”
“I’m joking. I know what to order.”
I went to the kitchen to grab my wallet. “Let me give you my credit card number.”
“I’ll pay for it. It’s my treat,” she said.
“Rose no. Let me get it, please? It feels weird having a girl pay for dinner.”
“And you’re chauvinistic, too.” Her glorious laughter seeped into me making my cock stand at attention, again. Was this normal? “Perfect. Okay, give me that number, so I can go to town on your credit card.”
“I don’t mind if you use it to buy things. Of course, you would have to show me what you bought. I’d
especially love it if you wanted to shop for lingerie and give me a private viewing.”
She giggled again, and I guess I was going to have a permanent hard on. “What’s the number?”
I gave it to her resisting the urge to ram my hand in my shorts. I seriously needed help.
“Okay. It should be there in about forty-five minutes.”
Down, boy, down. “Thanks, sweetheart, you’re a real lifesaver.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble. So, I take it you won’t be on the field anytime soon?”
“I won’t be able to play for about ten days. Did you want to see me in my uniform again?”
“Of course, silly,” she answered and added, “Too bad, I was really getting into this baseball thing.”
That made me smile…and wince again. I glanced around and noticed my PlayStation 4. “I know a way you could watch me play and learn about the game.” I mentally patted myself on the back for this brilliant idea. If she went for this, I had definitely hit the trifecta with her—brains, beauty, and played video games.