Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  Holy shit.

  Who am I?

  Maybe John is right. I am pussy-whipped.

  Getting an A on this test doesn’t just mean I’m one step closer to ravaging Eliza’s body in new, fun ways. While that excites me to no end, the real reason why I want to do well is because it would make her happy. She works so hard at making sure I stay off academic probation. I don’t want to let her down.

  I sit down at the table in our study room and pull out my geometry book. She never replied to my message. She probably won’t show up tonight and I don’t really blame her at all.

  I grab my pencil and I get to work.

  Chapter 18

  Eliza

  I walk out of class and run right into Grant.

  He holds out yet another cup of coffee and I heave a thick sigh as I take it from him. “He better be paying you to deliver these things.”

  “He is.” Grant reaches for my cup and spins it around to show me the name written on the side.

  Buzz buzz.

  I reach into my bag and my fingers wrap around my phone as the text message vibrates it.

  Library. Second floor. Study room B. Now.

  “Think you’ll actually go this time?” Grant asks, taking a sip from his own cup.

  I inhale the strong scent of black coffee. This is the fifth cup in the last two days Grant has hand-delivered to me after class — all courtesy of Junior Morgan. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Or you can keep it up,” he chuckles. “Three more trips to the coffee cart and I’ll be able to afford that blazer I saw at the mall last week.”

  I give a short laugh. “In that case, I might wait it out.”

  “In all seriousness, though… Cut the guy some slack.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I stare at him. “He asked you to lie for him, Grant.”

  “He asked me not to mention it to you and that populates the gray area between truth and lies, in my opinion.”

  “Hey, the guy can do what he wants,” I argue. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  Grant chuckles. “Okay… let’s try that one again. This time, with feeling.”

  “Shut up.” I step down the hall but Grant stays close.

  “I’m just saying, maybe you should re-evaluate that last part,” he says. “Drunk hotties were throwing themselves at him the whole time and he politely declined them all faster than that uptight, retail hag and my credit card.”

  “I will happily buy you that blazer myself, Grant,” I laugh. “You can stop hinting at it.”

  “Yay! Friendship!” He holds up his hand and I give him a high-five. “Look… Go talk to him, okay? Either put him down gently or make up. I don’t like seeing you so miserable.”

  “I’m not miserable.”

  “Eliza…”

  He stares at me and I can’t argue with it. It hasn’t even been two whole days and I already miss Junior freakin’ Morgan.

  “He declined them, huh?” I ask.

  Grant nods. “Let him explain what happened in his own words. If you don’t like it, then we’ll sit across the quad and throw shade at him from now until the end of the semester. It’ll be fun.”

  I try not to laugh but that’s always impossible when Grant shows his sassy side. “Fine. I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Thank you,” he says. “You just earned me another twenty bucks.”

  “What—” He spins around and takes off in the other direction before I can finish. “Traitor!”

  “Bye, Eliza!”

  “Bye, Brutus.”

  Grant winks at me before disappearing around the corner.

  My phone shakes with a new message and I flip it up to read it.

  Please.

  I drop it back into my bag and walk across campus towards the library.

  ***

  I push the door open to study room B to find Junior sitting at the table. He stands up, immediately dropping his phone down from whatever distraction he used while he waited for me to show up.

  “Hey…” he says, surprise crossing his face. “Thanks for coming.”

  I close the door and lean against it. “Well, someone had to stop Grant from cleaning you out.”

  Junior smiles. “It’s a worthy investment.”

  I stand still and wait, unsure whether I should ask questions or if I should just let him talk. Despite everything we’ve been through and done to each other, this is the first time there’s ever been an awkwardness between us and I fucking hate it. All over a stupid party.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence.

  “For what?”

  “For lying to you, to start. Not even sure why I did in the first place.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

  I pause, feeling a light flutter in my gut. If cocky bastards everywhere needed a poster child, Junior Morgan would be the instant front-runner. I’ve never gotten the impression that he cared at all about what I think of him.

  “Why would I be disappointed in you?” I ask. “You went to a party. That’s your thing.”

  “I was supposed to be studying,” he says, “and I was on my way out when I got your text asking how it was going. Rather than explain the whole story, I said it was going good. I didn’t know that Grant had already told you I was there—”

  “Junior — party, study, fuck, kill — I don’t care. You can do whatever you want. The one thing I don’t get is why you didn’t mention the party when I asked what you were doing that night.”

  He takes a step forward. “I didn’t know there was going to be a party… but the team invited me at the last minute and when I said I needed to study, we fought about you and I felt like I needed to make it right with—”

  “Wait, you fought about me?” Panic rises in my chest. “Why were you fighting about me?”

  “Not you, specifically. But with how much I study nowadays, they kind of figured out that I have a tutor.”

  “Why does that mean you have a tutor?”

  “What else would make a guy like me suddenly care about my grades, Ellie?”

  “Okay…” I pause, seeing the logic in the reasoning. “But why would you having a tutor cause a fight with the team? Why would they even care?”

  He opens his mouth to answer but hesitates. “Because… they…” His eyes fall to the floor between us.

  I sigh with annoyance. “They what, Junior?”

  He keeps his head down. “They wanted to borrow you and I got a little defensive.”

  My lips twitch at the red in his cheeks. “You…” I push the chuckle down. “You defended me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like…” I exhale a quick laugh and his head jerks up. “You defended my honor?”

  He narrows his eyes to hide the embarrassment in them. “Yes.”

  “Wow, that’s…” I bite my lip. “That’s new. No one’s ever defended my honor before…”

  “They were out of line,” he says. “Coach, too. He said you weren’t worth starting fights over.”

  My smile drops. “He said that?”

  “Yeah, but…” Junior shifts on his feet. “I’m sure if he knew I was defending you, he wouldn’t have said it.”

  “Right…” I nod but I don’t believe a word of it. “So, they still don’t know about us?”

  He shakes his head. “No one knows anything… except Ty, obviously, but he’s not saying anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “If he was going to tell somebody, he would have by now. Trust me.”

  I take a deep breath, feeling better but still annoyed — especially at my father’s dismissive remarks. Daughter or not, he obviously doesn’t give a shit about treating women with respect. Never has.

  “Ellie…” Junior takes a step forward and lays his hands on my arms. “Are we cool?”

  Small blooms of comfort travel
up my body, reacting to his touch. “Of course, we’re cool,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You defended my freakin’ honor.”

  He laughs and reaches across the table for his phone. “Good. Now that that nonsense is settled, I wanted to show you this.”

  I try to sneak a peek while he taps and swipes but he quickly tilts the screen away from me. “What is it?”

  “The TA posted our test grades this morning,” he answers, smirking.

  I step closer. “Already?”

  “Yup, and…”

  I fidget with anticipation. “And?”

  He finally turns the phone to show me and my jaw drops.

  “Ninety-two?!” I snatch the phone from his hand. “Junior, that’s awesome!”

  “Best damn math grade I’ve ever gotten in my life,” he laughs. “All thanks to my lovely tutor.”

  “I had nothing to do with it…”

  “Bullshit.”

  “This was all you, Junior.”

  “And you,” he says. “I never would have had it in me without you… well… letting me in you.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Wait…” I pinch the webpage, zooming in and out to prove its authenticity.

  “What?”

  “Just making sure this wasn’t manipulated.”

  He takes the phone from me. “It’s real, I swear,” he laughs.

  “I know. I’m proud of you.”

  “Good.” He leans in, chewing on his lip. “Now that the hard part is over… I suggest you pick up the biggest bottle of lube you can find, Eliza Pierce.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Uh-huh…” He grabs my arm and tugs me towards him, quickly spinning me around and I place my hands on the table in front of us. “Because… I’m going to own that field tomorrow and then I’m going to take you home with me and I’m going to own that ass, too.”

  I swallow, instantly throbbing at his words. “Don’t get too cocky, Junior,” I whisper, craning my head back to look at him. “This team slaughtered you last year, as I recall.”

  “Oh, they won’t this time,” he says, dripping with confidence. He inches forward, pressing himself against my rear and I melt for him. His hand slides up my thigh and disappears beneath my skirt. “Cross my heart…”

  I grow tense as his hand slides over my ass and he taps a finger against the tight rosebud between my cheeks.

  He kisses my neck, breathing heavily against my skin as he rubs it and I let out a soft moan.

  “Let me feel it…”

  He doesn’t ask questions, nor does he deny me.

  I listen to his zipper fall and his familiar hardness slides between my cheeks. “Is this what you want?” he whispers.

  “Yes.” I turn to feel his lips on mine but he refuses my kiss.

  Junior smiles and pushes his tip against the entrance, just barely stretching it and all I want to do is scream his name.

  He lets go and it falls away from me.

  “Wait, more —”

  “No…” he says. “No, you’ll take it when I want you to take it, Ellie. I own you like I own that field every weekend. Say it.”

  My muscles spasm, forever entranced by his perfect, dirty mouth. “You own me.”

  He spanks me once and steps away, pushing himself back into his zipper. “We’ll continue this tomorrow night.”

  “Maybe we will.”

  “Meet me at my place after the game?”

  “Actually…” I spin around, laying my skirt down. “We have an early rehearsal tomorrow, which means I’m free to attend the game.”

  He blinks. “Really?”

  “I may only catch the second half but that’s the only part that really matters anyway…”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re going just to try and psyche me out, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I tease.

  “It’ll take a lot more than that to rattle me on the field, Ellie. Once I’ve got my eye on the ball, nothing can stop me from getting it to the end zone.”

  “Let’s hope so.” I kiss his cheek. “Because my end zone is really looking forward to your balls.”

  Junior bites his lip. “That little mouth of yours… is amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to stick my dick in it later.”

  I crack up and shove him backward. “That was so weak.”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist…” He pauses, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment but I’m too busy staring back to count the seconds. “Coming over tonight?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Well, I don’t want you to get bored of me,” I joke.

  “You’re right,” he smiles. “Don’t want to ruin a good thing.”

  “Exactly.”

  Junior grabs his backpack off the table and tosses it over his shoulder. “If I don’t see you between now and then, I’ll see you after the game.”

  I nod. “After the game.”

  “Bye, Ellie.”

  “Bye, Junior.”

  He steps out into the library and the door is barely even closed before I’m grinning like a fucking idiot. It’s one of those deep smiles, too; the kind that completely takes you over and refuses to let go until your face muscles can’t take it anymore and you end up feeling the pain for days.

  Junior Morgan. Of course, we’re cool. He defended my honor. That means something, right? Based on his reputation before me, I have to imagine that chivalry was low on his list of priorities. The fact that he took my side over his team has to mean something.

  Or maybe I’m grasping at straws again. Maybe I’m so desperate to make something from nothing that I’ll cling to even the slightest of chances that there could be something there that resembles a real relationship. That didn’t go so well with my father. What makes me think Junior Morgan is any different?

  A chill rolls down my back, the latest of many that have shaken me today.

  I sit down at the table and wait for it to pass.

  Chapter 19

  Junior

  I lied.

  Thinking about Eliza Pierce sitting out there in those bleachers is absolutely psyching me out.

  She’s there right now, watching every hike, every toss, every move I make and she’s going to notice if I fumble even the smallest screw-up.

  I scan the crowd again, searching for her long, brown hair but I can’t look for very long before I have to get my head back in this game.

  My eyes jump to the scoreboard and I cringe.

  We are losing by eight points and there’s only one minute left in the game.

  I look at my teammates and I see it on their faces, just as they can probably see it on mine.

  It’s over.

  The ref blows the whistle, signaling a time-out and I hear Cary Pierce bellow out my name from the sidelines. He waves me over and I sprint to meet him.

  “What’s wrong, Junior?” he asks.

  I stare at him through my face guard, hoping he can’t read the dirty thoughts running through my mind. “We’re losing.”

  “So?” he shrugs. “Losing happens in your head first, not the other way around.”

  “There’s less than a minute left, Coach,” I point out. “There’s no way we can—”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “That’s plenty of time for a touchdown and a two-point conversion — that will tie us up and we’ll wipe them out in overtime.”

  I pause and look over my shoulder at the field. He’s not wrong but it’s a risky play, especially with us sitting fifteen yards outside the red zone.

  He knocks on the side of my helmet. “Get out of here. Get in here.” He lays a firm finger against my chest. “You know what I’m seeing right now?”

  “What?”

  “Weakness. It’s all over your damn face and I can guarantee they see it, too — and I’m not talking about the other team. I’m talking about yours, Junior. The quarterback falls and the rest follow. What are you going to do about it?”

  I ch
ew on my inner cheek. “I think—”

  He knocks hard against my helmet again. “Get out of here. What are you going to do?”

  My mind goes dark, surrounded by an ether of cold nothingness and I can’t for the life of me see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  I see Eliza’s face instead, standing out amongst the dark gray wisps.

  “I’m going to fake the hand-off,” I say through sudden clarity. “Put the focus on the halfback and run it in myself.”

  He smiles. “Then go do it.”

  I turn around and rush back out onto the field, igniting screams in the crowd around us. A little bit of that pure adrenaline fires through my limbs and it never stops tingling, even as we huddle up and I watch the look of shock on the team’s faces morph into a powerful confidence.

  We’re going to fight this — right down to the very last second.

  Suddenly, the idea of Eliza Pierce watching over my shoulder isn’t so bad.

  My team stands in formation, creating phantom twitches to their left, making it as obvious to the other team as possible.

  “Hike!”

  The center snaps the ball back and I catch it, twisting around to lay it into John’s cradled arms — but I tuck it beneath mine instead.

  John sprints to the left, taking half the offensive line with him and the defense falls for it.

  I bolt to the right, slipping around them with the ball safely in my hands, and the crowd explodes.

  A few of the other team notice, jutting out to grab me but I’ve already gained the momentum to dart right through them.

  With the end zone in sight, I pick up my speed, running on pure adrenaline all the way to the goal. Ty rushes in after me, slamming against me in celebration but the game isn’t over yet.

  There’s still a two-point conversion to worry about.

  I look at the crowd, once again looking for her face but I still can’t find her.

  We head to the three-yard line. If we don’t nail this play, then the game is over. We lose.

  And I’ll never hear the end of it from Eliza.

  “Just pop it up,” Ty shouts, pounding once on his chest. “We’ll catch it.”

  He rushes to the end of the line with the rest of the wide receivers and I fill my lungs with hot, humid air.