Baseball Lover

by Croft, Rose

  “I’m making your pitcher work for it, John,” I warned repeating some of the words I had heard him use.

  “That’s right, baby, keep grinding.”

  The next pitch came. I swung—crack I connected. And it went straight over the center fielder’s head, over the wall.

  “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Mic drop, bi-atch!” I jumped and yelled with smugness doing some kind of weird karate-like move and I had no idea where that came from. I was getting better at the smack-talk, though.

  “A fucking walk-off homer. Are you kidding?” John’s deep voice hit me in the groin in a pleasant way.

  But, I kept my shit-talk in tact. “Game over. Bye Felicia!”

  “Okay, Rose, you’ve got to stop saying that,” he said through gritted teeth.

  I laughed because I knew how much it bothered him.

  “Have you ever had a walk-off homer in a game?” I asked him, curious.

  “Yeah, a few times.”

  “Well aren’t you the big-time player,” I said in a condescending way, but deep down knowing he truly was.

  “Damn right. Don’t forget it either. Rematch?”

  I yawned knowing I needed to get up early in the morning. “No. I wish I could, but it’s late, and I have staff development training tomorrow and Thursday all day.”

  “Does that mean we can’t play tomorrow?” He sounded like someone just told him Santa wasn’t real.

  “I don’t know. Maybe in the evening.” I didn’t want to stop playing either, but I knew I had to stay in control of my so-called life. Which I felt like I was losing control of, the more time I spent with John. I was terrified to open up my heart and allow another man inside after what I’d been through. “Aren’t you getting ready to rejoin the team?”

  “Yeah, Friday.” I couldn’t believe he would be ready to play. He told me the stitches came out yesterday and had sent me a picture of his face. He looked almost normal again. His lip was still slightly swollen, but he still looked hot as hell. Now, I could stare at that picture.

  “Is it a home game or away?”

  “Home. I wish you would fly up here and see me.”

  “I know,” I lamented and changed the subject. “Will the game be televised?”

  “Yes,” he answered and came back to that subject. “Why don’t you come see me? If it’s a financial issue, you know I would cover everything. And, you would have a place to stay…”

  “I know. I can’t, sorry.”

  “Why not? I miss you, Rose.”

  “I already have plans this weekend.” I tried to keep my voice level. He was turning me inside out and I didn’t know how to handle this.

  “Like what? Like going out on a date?”

  He sounded jealous. We really hadn’t spoken about subjects like dating. “No.” I was supposed to go out to dinner with my parents on Saturday night for my mom’s birthday.

  “Are you not going to tell me what your plans are?” he demanded.

  “I don’t ask you what you do on your own time.” My response was quick, defensive. Why? It would piss me off if he were out with other girls.

  “Well, you fucking know what I’ve been doing for over the past week and a half, spending all of my time with you.” He cursed, and then asked, “Why are you being like this?”

  Why was he so angry? “Like what?”

  “You contact me, you snap sexy pictures of yourself, you act like you really enjoy talking to me, and when I try to get to know you better or want more from this, you withdraw and shut down. Why?”

  “Look, I’m having dinner with my parent’s Saturday night. It’s my mom’s birthday. Does it make you feel better knowing that?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Okay, I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”

  He laughed, but it had no traces of humor. “Of course, you are because I’m trying to get below the surface with you.”

  “Goodnight.” I clicked off the game not waiting for a response.

  Why did I do that? It’s almost as if I were deliberately trying to provoke an argument or get under his skin. He was right. I guess I didn’t give him enough credit because that was exactly what I was doing.

  The next two days, I sat in my training feeling miserable. I hadn’t spoken to him, and several times I almost texted him an apology. But for some reason, I didn’t have the courage to go through with it.

  At night, I would turn on the PS4 and sit with my headset on, hoping he would log on and play me. He didn’t. Then, I would end up playing anyway because it gave me some sense of comfort.

  It was Friday afternoon, and I knew he was playing tonight. I had even seen them talk about him on SportsCenter. They showed video of him at batting practice with this face guard covering the left side of his cheek and mouth.

  Then, they did a brief interview with him about the incident and asked him if he was ready to play. He seemed very humble as he spoke. And, said he was grateful that the injury had not been severe and was ready to come back and do anything that would help the team win. My heart was turning into mush.

  I texted him an hour before the game: I’m sorry for the other night. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.

  I didn’t hear back from him, but knew he was probably doing whatever baseball players did before a game. I’m sure playing with their phones was probably not part of the pre-game warm-up.

  When the game started, I noticed he wasn’t on the field with the rest of the team, but found out through the announcers that he was the designated hitter. At the bottom of the inning, when it was his turn to bat, I watched nervously wondering if he were somewhat scared to be up there again.

  He let the first pitch go through, and the ump signaled a strike. John tapped the bat and adjusted his gloves and got back in his stance. As the next pitch came, he swung and fouled it to the right in the stands. Again, he did his usual ritual as he glanced around, adjusted his gloves and patted his helmet. On the next pitch he swung and connected. It was a line drive to center field. He took off sprinting, easily making it to first base. I cheered, and mentally noted he was fast for a big guy.

  Later as the game went on, he had two more base hits sending one runner home, a double, and two strikeouts. They showed him in the dugout, sitting, gazing around and talking to the teammate next to him. He looked like he was about to spit, but then checked himself. He did that a couple of times.

  In the top of the ninth inning, the other team was behind by one run with two outs, but one of their players hit a home run. Crap! This was a division rival, and they were neck and neck in the standings for first place John had told me. Now, they were up by one because they had another player on base when he hit it sending him home.

  Finally, John’s team made the final out, and they had one last shot to get some runs. The first guy had a base hit. The person behind him bunted, was thrown out a first, but advanced the one on first base to second. The next guy struck out. Two outs down. Then, John was up. The announcers were debating whether the opposing team would try to intentionally walk him.

  Apparently, they decided against it. The first pitch was a strike. The second pitch was a strike. The third pitch was a ball. The fourth pitch was a foul. The fifth pitch was another foul. The sixth pitch was a foul. Oh my God, this was nerve wracking. The next pitch was another ball. Then, he hit another foul. Jeez! And he was lucky to barely get a piece of the ball.

  The pitcher threw again, and John’s swing was so powerful it almost brought him down to one knee. Whack! The ball sailed into the stands. He threw his bat down with authority and trotted arrogantly around the bases as the fans screamed.

  When he approached home plate, the whole team was up jumping around him as he touched the plate. He ripped off his batting helmet and shouted what looked like a war cry up to the heavens with his chest bowed. Damn, was he ever stoked!

  So was I. I had been jumping around cheering crazily, too. He walk-off homered. Talk about life imitating video games. W
as it bad this was making my body all inflamed seeing him go caveman on the field? I mean the old me would have thought he was conducting himself as a conceited ass out there.

  A few minutes later, the side reporter pulled him aside to interview him. Guys were still running up behind him cheering and slapping him on the back as he spoke. He was smiling and answering questions politely talking about how great it was to be back on the field. Again, he was very humble as he spoke with the interviewer.

  The reporter then asked him how he was going to celebrate after the game.

  He lifted one side of his mouth, showing a sexy dimple and said, “I’m hoping that my dear friend is up and ready for a rematch in our video game because I lost last time, and I need to redeem myself.”

  I smiled and my heart beat faster. Then, I frowned. He was talking about me right? I’m certain I was probably not the only girl that had been watching and cheering him on, too. Maybe, he never wanted to speak to me again after ending our last conversation so abruptly. I sat down on the couch and chewed on my nail allowing these stupid thoughts to temper my earlier joy. I kept watching the highlights of the game, studying his every move on the replays.

  Forty-five minutes later, I heard my phone chime.

  John: I’m leaving the stadium now. Will be home in twenty minutes. Be ready for me.

  Elation was back on! I swear my emotions were bouncing up and down like a bungee cord. I was all hot and bothered watching him, and his text sounded very suggestive. Hello! My body was ready for him. The rational part of my brain kicked in—the game, Rose, the game.

  Later, I turned the PS4 on and waited until he logged on.

  “Good game tonight,” I said. Um, less giddiness in voice, Rose.

  “Thanks.”

  I leaned back into the couch and crossed my legs. “Were you nervous when you faced the pitcher again for the first time?”

  “A little, but I fell back into my routine, and I think it helped wearing the face guard.”

  “Oh yeah, you looked very terminator-like out there.” More like terminator hot.

  “I know.” He chuckled. I loved how he could laugh about himself.

  “And you didn’t spit as much.”

  “I was trying not to because someone didn’t like it.”

  My whole body smiled. He was thinking about me. “I was about to lose it though on your last at bat. You clawed your way out of that one. It reminded me of your video self the other night. You were awesome, but what’s up with the gladiator-like yell at the end?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was really pumped and knew you were watching me.” His voice was low and sexy. I may have clenched a little. Yeah, I did.

  He must have seen my text before the game. “Did that make you excited?” We hadn’t even started the baseball game.

  “I’m always excited when I think of you.” He sounded so convincing that I felt my heart do a back handspring. My heart was so excitable. “Rose, I want to see you so damn bad I can’t stand it.” Then he added, “I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable, so please don’t hang up on me.”

  Again, that darn humbleness in his voice got to me. He could be so cocky, but when he was serious or modest I found myself falling for him more. “I won’t. I’m sorry for my behavior the other night. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “I just want to know you better that’s all.”

  I wanted to let him in my world, but I had to do it slowly. “Okay, I have an idea. We’ll play a game, and the loser has to…”

  “Take off a piece of clothing?” He interjected before I could finish.

  “No. Are you sure you don’t want me to hang up?” Yeah, I wasn’t going to hang up on him. I was hanging on his words tonight.

  “I’m kidding. You should know that by now.”

  “I do. Anyway, I was going to suggest that the loser has to reveal something personal.”

  “Okay. Let’s play then.” He sounded like he’d just walk-off homered again.

  We played, and John didn’t even hide the fact he was trying to win. It was like I’d never played before. Was he a hustler? He smoked me, and it wasn’t even close.

  “You’ve been holding back big time on me in this game.” I knew John was obviously an expert on video games. I knew he was better than me. However, I didn’t know how much better he was. Like kicked-my-ass-into-next-week better.

  “No, I haven’t,” he argued. “There was a lot of luck involved.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Okay, baby, spill it.”

  I thought about what I would tell him. “I have a tattoo.”

  “Where?”

  “On my back next to my right shoulder of angel wings and a halo.”

  “That’s cool. Why did you get it?”

  “It was in remembrance of someone close to me,” I answered slowly, nervously.

  “What happened?” Of course, he would want to know more.

  “I said I was revealing one thing, and I’ve already said more than I wanted to.”

  “Okay, I respect that.” I said a silent prayer thanking the man upstairs that he didn’t press for more information. “Can you send me a picture of it? So I can see what it looks like?”

  I contemplated doing it, but relented in the end. “Hold on, let me go to the bathroom so I can use the mirror.” I pulled my shirt over my shoulder and snapped a picture and cropped it where he could only see the tattoo. I sent it on my phone. It’s not like I was sending a revealing photo, but I had in the past and we’d moved on from him asking me to send more pics.

  “I like it, Rose,” he said sincerely. “You wanna play another game?” He suggested like a child who’d just received his favorite video game on Christmas morning and wanted to play all day long.

  “If you play like that all night, no, because I’ll be the only one disclosing anything.”

  “You know what? I’ll share something with you right now,” he offered. “And, this is really embarrassing.”

  “Really embarrassing? I’m intrigued.”

  He exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, Rose. Do you even realize the effect you have on me?”

  My body felt all bubbly with what he’d said. “Go on,” I breathed.

  “Okay. Have you ever seen the movie Frozen?”

  “You mean the animated movie with the two girls and the snowman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, it was cute.”

  “One night three years ago, I was having a party at my place with some of my friends. And, someone had the bright idea to start doing shots in addition to the drinks we were already having. As we were drinking, Frozen was on TV. We started joking around talking about how hot the two sisters were in that movie. Then, several of us were arguing about which one was hotter. By this time, I was drunk and said I would take Elsa.”

  “Oh my God. You really are a pervert.” I laughed.

  “I was trashed, and we were acting stupid.” He got a little defensive, and it was kind of cute. “Then, we took more shots and started playing dominoes. Someone foolishly suggested that the loser had to get a tattoo of their favorite Frozen character if they lost. Well, guess who lost?”

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you?”

  “Yes, I was taken down to the nearest tattoo parlor, and I now have a tattoo of Elsa.”

  I laughed even harder.

  “It’s not that funny.”

  “Where is it?” I asked before giggling again.

  “On my lower back.”

  “Okay, John, you know the drill. Send me a picture. I have to see it.”

  In a few minutes, I received a text from him. I opened it and breathed out the words “holy shit” before I could think, drinking in this damn fine specimen. It was a photo of his wide, shirtless, muscular back that narrowed down to the beginning of his perfectly sculpted ass. Then, I saw the tiny tattoo of Elsa that was practically sitting on the top of his butt crack where he had pulled down the waist
of his shorts.

  He chuckled at my reaction. “Do you like the tattoo?”

  Did I like the tattoo? Did I even notice the tattoo? I was staring at the bulge in his muscles, the tan line that was low at his waist, and the dip, contour and butt crack that dipped under his shorts. It was hard to think of something to say. Finally, my mouth showed up. “It’s not that big.” I was still trying to recover from seeing his amazing physique.

  “Yeah, I’m glad about that so I can hide it.”

  I swallowed trying to get my thoughts together while I continued to stare at the photo. “Does your brother know about this?”

  “Fuck no. He would never let me hear the end of it. And, you better not tell him or Loren about it either.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and clicked off the picture. “I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s our little secret. Well, besides the guys you were with that night, and probably all the girls you’ve slept with since then.”

  “Why do you assume I’ve been with a lot of girls?”

  “Haven’t you? Don’t try to feed me that bullshit.” I rolled my eyes for no one to see. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Are you implying that I just sleep with any girl I approach?” He asked in a pissy voice. Why was he pissed? Wasn’t this the part where he bragged about how great he was? “As if I’m some kind of sexual deviant?”

  “No. It’s more like girls probably throw themselves at you because you’re a professional athlete and let’s be honest…you’re pretty damn easy on the eyes.” I stated the obvious. “I’m sure you don’t have to work hard to get a little action.”

  “So, you find me attractive?” He asked in a bedroom voice. Ahh, okay, there was that arrogance I knew was in him. “And, no, I have not slept with every girl that has approached me.”

  “You already know I find you appealing,” I said in a condescending voice. Come on, that’s a given. “But, I don’t know if I can go out with someone who only thinks about sex all of the time. It’s hard for me to trust you.”

  “What the hell does that mean, Rose?”

  “That’s all you want to talk about with me. Everything is sexual in nature.”

  “No, it’s not. And, if I do say things sexually offensive to you, I’m sorry. I think about you constantly. Yes, I could sit here and tell you what I want to do with you, but it might offend you. I can’t help it. But, I swear to you I don’t obsess over other women like I do about you. And, you know what, Miss-I’m-too-modest-to-talk-about-sex, you don’t think I felt a little used when you FaceTimed me and then blew me off the next day?”