Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  I frown. “You suck at giving advice, dude. Thanks a lot.”

  “Okay…” he chuckles. “What I’m about to tell you is sacred knowledge passed down through generations of satisfied men and must never be spoken of outside of this room. Agreed?”

  I sit down on the next bench across from his. “I’m listening…”

  “Have you tried…” he glances over his shoulders for prying ears, “showing an interest in her as a person and not just as a hole to stick your dick into?”

  I blink. “Seriously? That’s your sacred knowledge?”

  “Yeah,” he nods. “What’s she into?”

  “Doggy style, I hope.”

  “No…” he laughs. “What are her hobbies? What does she do outside of school? What’s important to her? That kind of thing.”

  “Oh…” I think for a second. “I have no idea.”

  “Find out,” he says. “Then, take an interest in that thing yourself or, at the very least, acknowledge it in a way that shows that you support it.”

  “And that’s how you got Eliza’s attention?”

  “Yeah. Eliza’s a theatre major, so I went to her audition. I helped her memorize her lines. I supported her.”

  “It was that easy?”

  “Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I never said that it was easy… but it was worth it.”

  I try to come up with ways of getting to know Rose but I may have already screwed my chances. Something tells me this is going to be significantly harder than watching a damn audition.

  Junior leans forward. “Look, John… you want some real advice?”

  “Sure,” I shrug.

  “Don’t fake this. Don’t lead her on, making her think you’re someone other than who you really are just to get in her pants and never talk to her again. If you just want sex, we both know you can get it somewhere else anytime you want.”

  “Damn right.”

  “If she doesn’t want the same thing, just move on to the next girl who will. I told Eliza from the beginning that I just wanted sex and she did, too. It was a nice, honest, casual fling.”

  “But now you guys are getting married,” I point out. “You have a baby.”

  “Well… like I said…” He looks over my shoulder and smiles. “It was worth it.”

  I turn around to see Eliza standing out in the hallway through the glass door with their infant daughter balanced on her hip. The kid is a tiny replica of Eliza in every way; brown hair, light skin. Face like a damn supermodel. She waves at Junior and she grins as she takes the baby’s hand and waves it for her.

  “And that’s my ride home,” Junior says, standing up. “Did this help?”

  I rise off the bench. “Yeah,” I nod. “I think so.”

  “Good.”

  We walk to the door and step out into the hall. Junior instantly grabs his daughter and lifts her up into the air while planting kisses on her tiny cheeks.

  “Hey, Courtney,” he coos. “Did you miss me?” She giggles loudly and Eliza smiles at them before looking at me.

  “Hey, Eliza,” I say.

  “Hey, John.”

  Junior leans down to kiss Eliza’s cheek and for a brief moment, I feel a stab of envy deep inside. “I’ll go grab my stuff from the locker room,” he says, handing the baby back to her. “I’ll be right back.”

  “We’ll wait here,” she says.

  He takes off, leaving the three of us alone in silence. I look from her to the baby and back again, my mind running crazy until I realize I’ve been staring at them for way too long.

  Eliza furrows her brow, glaring up at my inquisitive face for several seconds until she finally speaks. “What’s up, John?”

  “Eliza, can I ask you something?”

  “… Okay.”

  “Last year, you and Junior hooked up but you weren’t supposed to.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Why?” I ask. “What did he do that caught your attention?”

  She pauses, thinking back while she sways her hips to rock the baby in her arms. “Well… he flashed me.”

  I blink. “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah, he flashed his pecker at me in the locker room,” she nods. “That definitely caught my attention.”

  I scoff. “Junior told me a bunch of crap about showing interest in your hobbies and shit. You’re telling me all I gotta do is whip out my Little John?”

  She smiles. “He said that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aww.”

  I exhale with frustration.

  “He’s not wrong, John,” she chuckles. “Junior’s confidence may have snagged my interest but it was his obsession that sealed the deal.”

  “Obsession?”

  “He went out of his way to prove to me that I was the only woman in the entire world for him,” she explains. “He never gave up. He never backed down. He believed in us long before I ever did.”

  I nod, letting the words sink in. “Obsession…” I mutter.

  Her face softens. “Has it actually happened?” she asks. “Is there a girl out there that’s finally tamed the great John Kirby?”

  “Oh, hell no. I just wanna bang my new chemistry TA.”

  She tilts her head and sighs. “I’m not sure why I expected anything else. Well, in that case, you know…” she bounces the baby once, “wear a condom.”

  “Duh, I’m fertile as fuck,” I joke. “I’m wearing one right now.”

  “Okay, that’s weird.”

  Junior appears by her side with his gym bag dangling off one shoulder. “What’s weird?”

  “I’ll give you two guesses,” she mutters with amusement.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, that’s John. Ready to go?”

  “Yep.” She looks back at me, her eyes flicking downward. “Little John?”

  “It’s ironic,” I nod.

  “I’m sure it is,” she smiles. “Good luck, John.”

  “Thanks, Eliza.”

  Junior nods at me as they turn away and I watch as the three of them take off together down the hall. He leans down and kisses Eliza, stirring a little bit of that envy deep inside of me again. I might be just an old softy at heart, but Junior Morgan and Eliza Pierce are quite possibly the most adorable couple I’ve ever seen in my life. Maybe I’ll have something like they have someday.

  But that day is not today.

  Today, I have a hot teacher to seduce.

  Chapter 6

  Rose

  “Pop quiz!”

  The class groans but I flash a smile. I’ve always wanted to say that.

  I grab the stack of freshly-printed quizzes off the front desk. “Oh, come on, guys. It’s not so bad. It’s only ten questions, all multiple choice. If you’ve been slightly awake for last two weeks, you’ll do fine.”

  I take a few off the top to hand to the student at the end of the row and I pause for a second when I realize it’s John Kirby. He officially moved to the front of the lecture hall last week and I’ve felt his eyes on me every day since then. If he blinked at all, I didn’t see it. Instead of relying on the usual trick to not feel as nervous, I’ve spent the two weeks trying not to imagine John in nothing but his boxers.

  He smiles as he takes the quizzes from me and I’m pretty sure he knows that.

  After passing out the quizzes, I take my seat behind the teacher’s desk. As soon as my butt hits the chair, John rises out of his and walks over to me with a blank expression on his face. I brace myself as he lays his finished quiz in front of me, his dark eyes boring down at me and I shudder slightly.

  He reaches into his backpack and my chest tightens.

  Without a word, he withdraws a banana and sets it down on the desk between us.

  I raise a brow, my eyes flicking from him to the yellow fruit and back again.

  John winks at me and turns away, walking straight through the exit as if it never happened at all.

  I sit in stunned silence, barely blinking as the rest of the students pile up to hand in their qu
izzes.

  What the fuck?

  ***

  I reach for the elevator call button. I miss it twice, as I’m far too preoccupied with the banana in my other hand to even think straight.

  It’s a long walk across campus to the TA office from Prism Hall and I’ve spent every single step of it trying to figure out what the hell this banana is supposed to mean.

  I pull out my phone as I step onto the empty elevator and I snap a photo of it in my hand.

  Luckily, I have Daisy. I text the photo to her, hoping that she’ll shed some much-needed light on it.

  Almost instantly, the phone rings and I answer Daisy’s call as the elevator climbs upward.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey, so…” she greets, “why did you just send me a picture of a banana?”

  I stare at it. “Because John Kirby just walked up, gave it to me, winked, and then walked off.”

  There’s a long silence. “He what now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where were you?”

  “In class,” I answer. “He came up to hand in his quiz and—”

  Daisy bursts out laughing. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  “He gave you a banana.”

  “Uh-huh…” She cackles even louder and I sigh with frustration. “What’s so funny?”

  “Come on. This is funny,” she says. “What fruit do students usually give their teachers?”

  I think for a moment. “Apples?”

  “I guess a banana was a little more on-the-nose.”

  The elevator doors open on the fourth floor. “Oh, my god…”

  “He wants you, Rose. Congratulations.”

  “Oh, no-no,” I say, shaking my head as I step out into the hallway. “No congratulations, Daisy. This is not good.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? This guy sounds awesome,” she laughs. “I like him already.”

  I keep my voice down as I bolt towards the office. “No, this is not awesome. This is not okay. We are not pretending that this is okay.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hello?” I whisper with bite. “Teacher. Student. Inappropriate.”

  She blows a raspberry. “No one actually follows that rule. Now, go cash in that phallic-shaped fruit bargain and then call me afterward to tell me how curved it was.”

  “Ew,” I cringe. “No.”

  She sighs with deep disappointment. “Your poor end zone.”

  “Stop calling it that.”

  “Start filling it with something other than bubble baths and battery-powered machines and I will.”

  I push open the office door. “I thought he had moved on from me,” I say, tossing my bag onto the desk. “Almost two weeks without flirty emails or after class chats and now…”

  “Penis fruit.”

  “Yeah.” I set it down and stare at it again. “Penis fruit.”

  “Do I detect a little excitement in your voice, Rose?”

  I sit down and the chair squeaks loudly beneath me. “No…”

  “Just admit that you’re attracted to the guy, please.”

  “I never said I wasn’t, Daisy,” I point out. “John Kirby is extremely handsome, but…”

  “Teacher, student, yada yada.”

  “It’s not just that. I’ve done the whole big, dumb jock thing before, remember? It didn’t work out.”

  “Don’t let that little bastard ruin mankind for you,” she says. “Not every football player is a manwhoring asshole. Besides, isn’t that what you need right now? Casual, no strings attached…”

  “Maybe…”

  “Look, sis, you do what you think is best for you. I just don’t like the idea of you passing up opportunities because you’re scared of what life is like outside of that safety bubble you live in.”

  “I don’t live in a—”

  “Rose.”

  I sigh. “Okay, fine. You might have a point.” I tap the mouse to wake up the computer. “Daisy, I gotta go. I have some quizzes to grade.”

  “Have fun!” she says. “And I mean that, by the way. It’s Friday night…”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  I hang up and flip open my bag to pull out the large stack of papers nestled in the bottom. Ten questions, all multiple choice. I should be able to blow through these quickly, pick up dinner, and make it home with plenty of hours to spare to get some recreational reading in before bed.

  Wow, I really do live in a safety bubble.

  I grab the first quiz off the top and I pause, my eyes sliding across the desk towards that damn banana. My stomach growls but I don’t dare reach for it. I’ll stay hungry.

  If John wanted to get inside my head, he definitely succeeded. It was hard enough not imagining him naked in class. I’ll never look at another banana the same way again, that’s for sure.

  And that wink he gave me… oh, man—

  Dammit. Focus, Rose.

  I snatch the banana and drop it into the top desk drawer, quickly slamming it closed. Out of mind, out of sight. I just need to get everything that reminds me of John out of my space so I can get this work done.

  I flip to the bottom of the stack and take the last quiz out, reading John’s name scratched at the top. A quick check of his answers shows that he’s definitely been paying attention in class. He got all of them right. I grab the computer mouse, find his name in my grade book, and type out his grade.

  There. John Kirby done. No more John Kirby.

  My eyes land on the student profile icon next to his name and my fingers twitch.

  No. Don’t do it, Rose.

  I click the icon and his student ID photo pops up on my screen above an overview of his activity. Even here he’s staring back at me with that shit-eating smirk. I scroll down, skimming over his clubs, his class schedule, his declared major, his transcript. Any and everything I may want to know about John Kirby, the big, dumb jock—

  Wait a second…

  I scroll back to his transcript again, thinking that maybe I’ve gotten him mixed up with another John Kirby but nope, this is definitely him.

  John Kirby is a big jock all right but he’s not dumb. Not at all. Far from it, actually.

  Maybe I am wrong about him. Maybe Daisy is right — maybe John Kirby isn’t just another manwhoring football player. If what I’m reading here is correct, then there’s a whole lot more to John than meets the eye.

  My stomach growls again and I open the desk drawer to grab the banana. I peel it open and take a slow bite of it while I stare at his photo.

  Who the hell is this guy?

  Chapter 7

  John

  “Hey, John…” Stephanie Gomez sidles over and nestles her little body beneath my arm. “After this round, how about you take me outside for a little fresh air?”

  I glance down at her blonde head. She’s got her sizable cleavage pressed against me so hard I can almost feel the nipple rings digging into my chest through her dress. I nod, opening my mouth to deliver a nice yes, ma’am but something makes me pause.

  “No, thanks, Stephanie,” I say instead, pinching a ping pong ball between my fingers. “Maybe some other time.”

  I toss the ball across the table and it dances along the rim before finally plunking into the cup.

  Grant frowns with annoyance as he grabs the cup and drinks it down.

  “Are you sure?” Stephanie whispers at me, her voice barely carrying over the party around us. She licks her lips as bait but my boxers don’t feel the least bit tighter.

  “I’m sure.”

  She rolls her big eyes. “Whatever.”

  Without another word, she stumbles off through the house. I don’t feel too badly about it. She’s Stephanie Gomez; the sorority girl version of John Kirby. She’ll find another guy to entertain herself with tonight. Always does.

  I toss a second ball towards Grant’s cups but it bounces off the table down to the floor. He lets it tumble away, staring back at me with a cocked brow.

&n
bsp; “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he smiles. “That’s only the third girl tonight you’ve brushed off. That’s all.”

  “You’re keeping track?”

  “This is my house,” he grins. “I know everything that happens here.”

  I chuckle, glancing around. This used to be Junior Morgan’s place before he moved out to live with Eliza. Now, his former roommate, Ty, picked up a new roomie of his own — the illustrious Grant. Not exactly the couple I ever expected but they’re just about as perfect for each other as Junior and Eliza are.

  “So, what if I have?” I shrug.

  “So…” He grabs a ball and takes aim at the cups in front of me. “You have a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Then, you have a girl you’d like to befriend.” He flicks his wrist, firing the ball directly into my cup with a hard splash. “Boo-yah!”

  “What the hell do you know?” I swallow the drink down with a hard gulp.

  He grins. “You went on the defense real fast there, Johnny. Want to try that one again?”

  “Don’t call me Johnny.” I watch as he lines up a second shot, his eyes squinting behind perfectly-trimmed blond bangs. “I guess my focus is a little pointed, at the moment.”

  “No shit.” Grant tosses the ball, once again landing it directly in one of my cups. “I heard about your little trifecta challenge.”

  I drink it down. “You’re one gossipy bitch, Grant.”

  “And you’re falling behind the competition.”

  I glance around for Douglas, just in case. “How so?”

  “Word in the quad says Dougie’s already two out of three.”

  Dammit.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I never assume you guys get as much tail as you claim to. I’m just passing on what I heard. Apparently, he just needs a teacher.”

  “The teacher is the hardest one,” I point out. “I’m this close on that myself. Once I’m done, the other two are cake.”

  “If you say so.” He grabs another ball and throws it without even aiming and it still pops directly into my cup. “And that’s game.”

  “Your talents are wasted on that theatre degree, Grant,” I say, picking up the cup.

  “Oh, please,” he smirks. “I’ve played with more balls than you have.”