The Mascot: A Fan & Player Baseball Romance

by Ana Shay

  I forced my gaze down, embarrassed that I let a girl affect my focus, something that’s never happened before. Not even when I was a 16-year-old virgin. I shook my head. “You’re right. I just gotta get my head back in the game.”

  When I eventually looked up, he smiled. “Good, because we’re top of the inning. Let’s go.” He’s right. I need to focus on what’s important. This game. This team. This win. That girl can wait. I grabbed my lucky glove, punched into the leather, and jogged back out onto the field.

  With all my energy and vigor, I slid into Homeplate. My toe tipped as I felt Trey tag me. He’s too late. I felt the plate before the tag, and the umpire agreed, calling me safe. The crowd cheered, and my team rushed out onto the field. We won, and it was because I finally focused. I whacked the ball so hard with anger and rage; I’m surprised it didn’t come apart at the stitches. There was no way it could get caught. I dropped my bat, watching the pummeled ball fly straight out of the park scoring a two-run homer, putting us in the lead by one.

  I’ve got to admit; it felt good scoring that in front of Cali and her boyfriend. I’m not sure what point I was trying to prove, but I know I proved something. By the bottom of the ninth, we were tied and needed another run to stop the game from going into extra innings. I managed to hit a double and steal a base. Standing on third, all we needed was for Austin to hit a blooper, which he did easily.

  Grayson drenched me in cold water as the crowd, and my teammates cheered. The way we’re celebrating, you’d think we’d won a world series instead of sweeping a series with our division rivals for the first time this year. I bent down to flick my hair up in the air, getting the rest of my teammates wet, and then looked up, hyping the crowd.

  I shouldn’t look above the dugout. I should focus on all the fans cheering my name. Not on the hot girl cozying up to her boyfriend.

  I shouldn’t focus on her.

  I shouldn’t.

  But I do.

  Cali’s coming out of a hug with that guy, and when she met my eye, she smiled that gorgeous smile again. It’s like somehow she knows I did it for her. Her fist waves in the air as she screams and jumps up, her boyfriend failing miserably at calming her down. Something about it made me want to go to the batting cages and whack a few balls.

  Stepping into the dugout, I grabbed a drink and strolled into the locker room. Getting that win felt great except for that festering pissed off feeling radiating through my bones. How do I broach the boyfriend subject with her without sounding pathetically eager? Although, if I’m honest, I’ve sounded pathetically eager the whole time. This will be no different. What’s wrong with me? I’m the star of the Carolina Catfish, yet I’m on my knees begging for a date from a girl who has a boyfriend.

  My team whacks my back, congratulating me, but the victory feels hollow. I just want to go home and clear my brain. I grabbed my bag, waving goodbye to the guys as I left. I twirled the keys in my hand, ready to get today over with. When I opened the door, Cali stood there, fin in hand, smile on face. “Tate.” She breathed out like I’d just given her the best orgasm she’d ever had. I focused on her face, hoping she’d focus on mine too. Not on the uncomfortable strain in my pants.

  She jumped into me, taking me by surprise when she clasped her arms around my neck. My whole body froze, unsure of what the hell was happening. This is the first time she’s actually touched me, and she’s acting like we’re good friends. The Gatorade in the dugout must have been spiked because I’m delusional. Her boyfriend shuffled over, standing behind her with his hands stuffed in his pockets, awkwardly rocking from side to side. “You played great tonight. That homer in the eighth was incredible.” There was unrequited lust between her words. I could hear it. And I was confused. She’s the master of mixed signals.

  I couldn’t help myself; I dropped my hand to her hip, liking the way she felt covering me. Still holding onto my neck, she leaned back slightly so I could see her. “What got into you?” She asked.

  I wanted to flirt, but since her boyfriend was standing behind us looking all kinds of nervous, I thought I’d leave it, especially since he looked young enough to need a car seat. I knew Cali was younger than me. I’d guessed 22 or 23 since she went to college and is now interning, but this guy looks a lot younger. “Cali, what are you doing here?” She stiffened, moving out of my hold. Yeah, I may have been rude, but I need to keep my ego intact here. If she came down just to show off to her boyfriend that she knew me, I would be humiliated. That would be almost as bad as when Sam posted a picture of her ‘cheating’ on me online. Even if we hadn’t seen each other in a month, we still hadn’t broken up. It wasn’t the cheating that bothered me; it was the trolling after.

  She bit her bottom lip, looking between her boyfriend and I. “I, uh,” She hesitated. “I just wanted to introduce you to my brother, Penn.” She stepped back, but I instinctively stopped her. My whole body relaxed.

  Her brother.

  Of course, it was her brother.

  Penn shuffled forward, a little pink on his cheeks and an awkward smile. How did I not see it before? They have the same smile and button nose. “Hi, Mr. Sorenson. It’s nice to meet you.” He spoke formally with an air of nervousness. Now I feel like a dick and a moron.

  I waved at her brother, giving him a smile. Her brother, you idiot! "Please. Call me Tate. It’s great to meet you, Penn." I held my hand out to him, and he accepted it earnestly.

  I could feel the tension leaving the air as Cali leaned in closer towards me. "I don’t know if you remembered, but Penn is a pitcher on his high school Baseball team, The Charlotte High Hyenas.” Of course, I do. I’ve read her messages hundreds of times, searching for a deeper meaning like I’m some kind of teenage girl. “He’s their Ace.” She said proudly while Penn’s cheeks flushed at the recognition. “He wants to go pro after college.”

  "Oh yeah? Maybe you can pitch to me sometime." I offered.

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe in a couple of years. I don’t think I’m good enough for that just yet.”

  Cali made this sweet whimpering noise after hearing her brother. “That’s not true, Penn. You’re awesome.” She rushed over, pulling at his arm, adoration clear in her eyes. It’s how I wanted her to look at me.

  “It’s all about the attitude with pitchers,” I explained. “Maybe I could introduce you to Grayson Hawk sometime? He’s got an attitude the size of North Carolina. I’m sure he could teach you a few things.” His mouth widened as he looked at Cali.

  “I would love that, Sir.” He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “I mean, Tate.”

  Leaning closer to Cali, I wondered how much she’d told Penn about me, “It’s not a problem. Just let Cali know when you’re free, and I can arrange it sometime.” She smiled; I loved the fact it was because of me.

  Penn grinned earnestly, “We’re going out for dinner if you wanted to join?” He bent over because Cali elbowed him in the stomach. Now it was her turn for her ears to go a bit pink.

  “Ignore him. I know you’re busy, and you’ll be traveling tomorrow.” She shook her head, doing her best to look cool, but I could tell she was squirming.

  Penn rubbed his stomach, grimacing, “You said you were friends?” There it is again. Friends. She signs off all her texts, reminding me of that, but then is the first one to text me in the morning. We won’t be friends for long if I have my way.

  That word. Friends now, but not for long if I have my way.

  “Where you headed?” I asked Penn, ignoring the surprised look Cali gave me.

  He straightened up, running a hand through his dark red hair. “There’s a place just around the corner we love. Have you ever been to Deena’s? We like to go there after watching a game.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “I love Deena’s. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you there before.” I wrapped my arm around Cali’s shoulder, looking between them. “Let’s go,” I said smugly.

  Cali tripped as I walked her towards the entrance.
She was definitely nervous. I was just excited to be spending more time with her. “Oh-Kay.” She stumbled out anxiously.

  “I’m stuffed,” Cali proclaimed, throwing her napkin on the table as she relaxed back into the seat. Looking at her empty plate, I was impressed. She managed to eat two tacos, a bean burrito, and an enchilada. My gaze drifted down when she rubbed her belly. I really shouldn’t find the move erotic, but I’ve come to the conclusion, Cali could burp the alphabet, and I’d still be horny.

  “Glad you’ve finished. Now, will you let me finish?” Penn quipped, turning his attention back to me. “As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” He glared pointedly at her. “Cali’s been obsessed with ballplayers all her life. Her first crush was Jerry Walker and then Brian Liddle. I also remember a Brady Combs phase too.” Penn laughed at her sour expression.

  My eyebrows shot up, “So, what you’re telling me is, she’s had a crush on every shortstop the Fish has had to offer since she was born?” He nodded, and I scoffed, feeling a lot less flattered that she picked me to obsess over. I folded my arms, resting them against the table. “Good to know she’s got a type.” And that I’m the Fish’s shortstop for the next ten years. I lifted my glass, taking a long drink of my cold water. She watched my throat as I swallowed. Her lips got smaller and smaller as her gaze got hotter and hotter. I pulled the glass from my lips, hiding my smirk. “Tell me something, though.” I directed my question to Penn, “Does she have a bobblehead collection of the rest of them?”

  Penn cackled. “Nope, that’s all you.” We’ve spent the last three hours talking about Cali and Penn’s family. Even though she hates how much Penn’s been embarrassing her, I’ve been enjoying getting to know her. “The bobblehead thing all started when she got a free one for attending a game.” Cali groaned, sliding down into her chair, covering her face. “I think you scored a homer that day. The next game she went to, you were having a real stinker, so she just assumed that the bobblehead was good luck. The next time, she brought a bobblehead, and you scored a walk-off homer. From then on, she bought a new one every time she thought you’d have a tough game ahead.” I tilted my head and watched her. She was squirming in her seat, looking anywhere but me.

  Cali pushed Penn out of the way. “On that note, I need to go to the bathroom.” She scurried out of the booth without another glance. My eyes tracked her every move. Even though I planned to look at her ass in those tight jeans she was wearing, my attention focused on her jersey. Walker. “Interesting choice,” I muttered as I turned back to the table.

  Penn laughed. “It’s the jersey she wears whenever she watches a Saturday game. She hates wearing a current player in case she jinks it.”

  I raised my eyebrow, “Your sister seems very superstitious.”

  “And you aren’t? Is it true you wear an old raggedy t-shirt under your jersey every game because the great Hank Arnold gave it to you?” He caught me off guard with that question. I’ve only ever mentioned that in one obscure interview a few years ago. No one has ever asked me about it. Should I be all that surprised, though? His sister is my biggest fan and seemingly knows everything about me.

  I shrugged, “Good point.” I glanced over my shoulder, making sure the coast was clear. “What’s the deal with Cali?” I figured I’d ask since she was so good at giving me mixed signals.

  Penn’s eyebrows crossed. “What do you mean?”

  “Does she have a boyfriend?” I flat out questioned because I didn’t want to be blindsided again.

  Penn held back a smile. “I knew she was lying when she told me you were just good friends.” He rolled his eyes, “Cali told me she was working with you.”

  I squinted, thinking about it. “Interesting take on the situation.”

  “I knew it.” He laughed, shaking his head. “No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” He clarified, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “She’s never had one that I know of.” My mind nearly blows. She’s the hottest girl I’ve ever met. How are guys not lining up to take her out? “Oh wait, I think mom mentioned there was a guy when she was in college, but she’s never brought a guy home.” My ears pricked at that interesting tidbit. Of course, I’ll take that with a grain of salt. I doubt Cali talked about guys with her family and with her baby brother often, but it’s good to know she’s hasn’t liked a guy enough to bring him home.

  “Cali loves you, though,” Penn emphasized, and I thought about his words. That in itself could be part of my issue. She may be in love with the Tate Sorenson, who wins games for her favorite team. Maybe she’s afraid she won’t like the real me once she gets to know me. Maybe she doesn’t want to get to know me.

  “Sorry, what did I miss?” Cali hurried back into her seat, smoothing her hair down. I thought about how much I wanted to run my hands through it, grasp a clump and kiss her senseless. You know, everyday thoughts.

  Penn piped up. “Tate was just about to tell me how you two met.” Her mouth gaped open, and she looked like a gulping fish waiting for me to respond. The waitress came over, dropping off the bill. I grabbed it before either Penn or Cali could. As if I would let them pay.

  I threw a fifty down, staring at Cali, lifting my brow in a silent invitation for her to answer. “We met when I went down to see the medic for this.” She raised her wrist, showing a smaller bandage in Carolina blue fabric. She gestured toward me. “Tate was there for his post-game checkup.”

  “Interesting place to pick up women,” Penn mumbled, but I heard it and laughed. It’s not like I haven’t made my intentions clear. I know I’ve got no chill when it comes to Cali. I own that shit.

  “How did you hurt your wrist again?” Penn asked. It was a good question because I don’t remember her telling me. I knew she was clumsy from Phil, but he was notably vague about her wrist injury.

  Cali’s eyes narrowed, looking between us. She hesitated, looking down at her phone. “Oh, look. Is that the time? Mom and Dad are going to kill me if I keep you out late on a school night, Penny,” She said through clenched teeth, squeezing his shoulder extra tight.

  Penn rolled his shoulder out of her hold. “Firstly, don’t call me Penny. I’m not ten anymore. He adjusted his jersey, sitting up more straight. “Secondly, I’m 18. Mom free birded me months ago. I can come and go as I please. Finally, it’s Saturday, and I’m the one driving your ass home.” He shook his head, snickering.

  “I’ll drive her.” The offer came out of my mouth before I really thought it through. I wanted to see where she lived. What made her, well, her. But mostly, I didn’t want the night to end. It felt too soon. Cali looked surprised, but she didn’t outright reject it, which was a good sign.

  “Thanks, Tate,” Penn said smugly with mock surprise. I’m guessing that was his plan all along, and he was doing me a solid. I’ll need to send free tickets to his team as a thank you. “That makes my life easier. She’s a good thirty minutes out of my way.”

  Cali gulped as she watched me high-five her brother. She seemingly accepted the ride home, and I couldn’t wait to get her alone.

  She’s all mine now.

  Chapter 9

  “It’s just here.” I pointed at the tall building ahead, worried that he was judging my slightly sketchy neighborhood. Okay, very sketchy neighborhood. “You can drop me off out front.” He was quiet, ignoring my request when he flipped the indicator up and turned into the graffiti covered parking lot. Not the type of place you’d typically see a brand-new red mustang. Nerves crept through my stomach, wondering what thoughts must be running through his head about where I live. It’s run down, old, and the main reason I wanted him to leave me out front is that I’m not sure his car is safe down here. The security camera hasn’t worked since I moved in six months ago; if it ever worked at all.

  Tate parked up, and before I had a chance to think of a way to get him to leave, he was already on my side of the car, opening the door for me with that million-dollar smile of his. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? “Thanks for
coming tonight,” I said, taking his hand, totally ignoring the tingly feeling in my heart as he helped me out. Lord knows I needed the support; those seats are deep, and my legs are long. I’d look like a gangly spider on its back trying to get out by myself.

  Standing outside in the darkened parking lot, my brain stopped working for a second when he shut my car door and smiled. Tate stared down at me, giving me that same hungry look like the first time we met. I can’t believe tonight actually happened. Tate came out to dinner with Penn and me acting like it was completely normal. It was a lot of fun talking about Tate’s childhood and my mild (cough, cough) obsession with the Catfish. It was weird how everything just felt so easy. The conversation flowed, and I had fun.

  It wasn’t a date; I know that because Penn was there acting as my chaperone the whole time. But when Tate placed his palms on either side of my shoulders, it sure felt like one. He leaned in, and I could smell the strawberry bubblegum on his breath. His favorite on game day.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Cali.” And there he goes again, making my knees feel like jelly. The way he says my name makes me tingle all over. His mouth was next to my ear now. I’m sure he could feel my chest rising and falling rapidly, anticipating his touch. “Thanks for inviting me.” He cooed, and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. Woody, grassy, and all man.

  He backed away, letting his butterscotch eyes travel the length of my body and back to my face. Biting on his bottom lip, I was reminded of my calendar in the office. He’s pulling that same smile in the July photo. I loved how hot he looked, which is why it got a summer month. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would ever direct that smile at me. “Could we count this as our first date?” Did he know I was thinking the same thing? The corner of his mouth lifted; his eyes sparkled with mischief. It felt like he was pleading for me to legitimize this.