Extra Innings

by Michelle Lynn

  We approach my four-door cab truck that I got for my high school graduation after making honors.

  “I’ll sit in the back,” he says.

  I crinkle my eyes. “Why would you? It’s January and about twenty degrees. Get in.” I unclick the doors.

  The kid can talk shit, but he’s not about to truly sit in the back. Maybe I should be more like Ollie and not all soft around the edges.

  We each climb in, and I start the truck.

  His eyes peer around the truck. The one thing I’m certain of is, the Winslows don’t have a ton of money. This truck gives the impression I do. Ainsley didn’t like me spending money on her, and I gather that her brother is the same. Looking very unimpressed, he stares out the window.

  “Thanks for the ride. My girlfriend left,” he says to the window instead of me.

  “You’re welcome.” I turn up the radio and pull out of the parking lot.

  “By the way, no worries; Ainsley won’t be home,” he says.

  The excitement that maybe I’d catch a glimpse of her decreases, signaling that I’m far from over her.

  “Good.” My hands tighten on the wheel.

  4

  Ainsley

  How the hell am I going to pass Professional Finance? I mean, what will I need to know about that when I’m a premed major?

  The beneficial part is, most of the students are also premed majors, so maybe we’ll all get a C. The bad part is, most want to be in the science classes, so they won’t be much help to me actually acing the class.

  Professional Finance?

  I have my own personal finances that I manage, and that’s with absolutely no fucking money. I want to see the professor teach me how to weave checks in and out through the system without ever bouncing them. Cade and I survive off my instincts and my method of keeping us just a fraction over that line out of the red.

  Turning up Pink on the radio to push out all the pressure of my business class, I sing along to “So What.” My head nods, and my body moves to the beat of the music. Soon, I’m full-out dancing in my car as I stop at the light by my house. Thoughts of Braxton linger just under the surface, Pink’s lyrics too close to what I felt at the end of last summer. My face heats as I think of the times we had together, and after seeing him again the other night, he’s been consistently invading my dreams once again.

  I’ve never had anyone as sexually charged as Braxton before. Not that my list is long. I mean, I’m looking at less than the fingers on one hand, but there was something different about him. His eyes overflowed with a craving for me. They still haunt me when I shut my eyes with a flicker to the memory of our time together. Until reality set in. The reality that he would leave eventually, starting a life that wouldn’t mix well with having a girlfriend back home.

  I pull into my driveway but slam on the brakes.

  His truck.

  The black monstrosity is parked to the left of the outside garage. His parking spot. The one his truck knew as its new home for long nights and days when we wouldn’t leave the house. During the days when Cade was at baseball camp, and Delaney was bouncing back and forth between her mom’s and here.

  My gut churns, and my hand hovers over the gearshift. That familiar pull to see him is too strong to ignore.

  Still, the question plagues me. Why is he here?

  My hand presses on the gearshift to put it in reverse as my foot presses firmly on the brake. The problem is, my eyes are searching the open windows of my house for any sign of him. And, even with the shades open and the lights on, I’ve got nothing. All I notice is, I should have probably spent Saturday night cleaning.

  I’m not sure what I’ve decided, but my foot moves from the brake to the gas, and I pull up the driveway, parking Edith in the garage.

  “We can do this,” I mumble to Edith, hoping my hunk of junk can give me the strength to walk into my house.

  I turn the key and pull it out of the ignition.

  I clench it in my hand.

  I rest my hands on my lap.

  My heart pounds, my muscles are weak, and my stomach churns.

  “Get a grip,” I tell myself. “He’s no one. Just another baseball player.”

  Still, I sit in the car in a dark garage, praying he’ll leave without noticing my car is here.

  “You’re so dense,” I say, my hand landing on the door handle and flinging the door open.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to get out,” he says, his voice laced with the sexual undertone that drives me insane…with want.

  “Why are you here?” I close my door and open the back one, pulling out my backpack before slamming it shut.

  “That’s one hell of a welcome. I used to get greeted with your legs wrapped around my waist.”

  I roll my eyes and walk past him but not before my shoulder brushes his arm.

  Damn, the intensity of his body heat always amazes me.

  “Things change.” I continue walking to my back door, but his footsteps loom behind me.

  “Do you believe in fate?” he asks.

  My feet stop right before I step up to my back door. “No.”

  Yes, you do.

  “Well, I do. I think that fate guided me to the bar that night. I think fate made you drink too much. I definitely think fate made you strip naked for me.”

  My face flushes a bright red.

  Yeah, I don’t remember that night, but from what Braxton told me the next morning, I was a handful.

  I turn around, my hands gripping the straps of my backpack, as though I’m a thousand miles high in the air and the straps are my parachute cords.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  A cocky grin splashes across his face, and he stuffs his hands into his pockets as he rolls back on his heels.

  He’s the epitome of sex on a stick.

  At least for me.

  “Fate.”

  “Ains—” Cade opens up the back door.

  “Cade, get in the house,” I direct, my finger automatically shooting out and pointing inside.

  The last thing he needs is to know who this guy is.

  “I’m not three, Ains. I see you’ve met Braxton Brentwood. He’s my mentor.”

  My eyes land on Braxton. He planned this on purpose. But why would he? He has a line of girls waiting to give him exactly what he wants—great sex with no strings.

  “True,” Braxton confirms.

  A hollow, fake laugh leaves my throat because, of all the things that could happen, fate has chosen Braxton to mentor my brother.

  I whip around to face Cade, who’s standing with the back door open. He shows no sign that he knows who Braxton is to me, and I hope that’s true. If Cade knew what I did last summer, it would disappoint him, showing how irresponsible I was.

  “Yeah, I met him.” I walk up the stairs, passing Cade and heading into the house.

  “I invited him to stay for dinner,” Cade adds just as I’m through the kitchen, prepared to lock myself in my room until the black truck pulls out of our driveway.

  “I don’t cook.” I step out of the kitchen and into the family room.

  “I ordered pizza. Brax’s treat,” Cade says.

  When I turn around, his arms are hanging from the doorway as the weight of his body leans forward. The smile on his face is the same one he gave me the night I kicked out Olivia after I found her in his bed. It’s mischievous, and it shows he is up to something. That night, he was hiding the fact that he’d lost his virginity. Cade has always struggled with keeping any secrets, the hidden information burning his lips to escape.

  So, it’s clear now. He’s baiting me.

  Did Brax tell him about last summer?

  My stomach growls, and I place my hand on it to quiet it down.

  Seriously, it picks now to speak?

  That cocky grin slides onto Braxton’s lips, like I just stripped off my shirt.

  “Fine. Call me when it’s here.” I swivel around and set my destination to the stairs.


  “Ains,” Cade calls out.

  But I don’t turn around.

  “Ains,” he says again, this time in a you-have-to-turn-around-before-you-miss-out voice.

  I slowly turn. He holds an envelope up in the air.

  “No.” I shake my head, running over and snatching it from his hand. “MCAT,” I mumble, the letter heavy in my hand.

  “Open it.” Cade nudges my arm.

  My eyes flash up, finding Braxton right behind him.

  How many times did I tell him about my unreachable dream of becoming a pediatrician? He helped me study for the MCAT even though I doubted I’d ever be able to attend the school I wanted. I’m on the last of my dad’s GI Bill, and I’m thankful for the small scholarship Ridgemont gave me for my academics. Medical school is a whole other ball of bills weighing in my stomach.

  “Later.” I stuff it into my back pocket and walk to the stairs.

  “Ainsley,” Cade sighs.

  I turn around once more, ready to tell him that I’m not exactly thrilled about opening a letter that will dictate my future in front of Braxton.

  “Pizza will be here in a few.” He winks, understanding completely.

  Maybe he’s being a little too understanding, which tells me he knows something.

  “Call me.” I run up the stairs, quietly shut my door, and sit on my bed. I pull the envelope out of my pocket, my fingers running along the edges.

  A few silent moments later, a set of headlights shines through my window. As always in this old-as-hell house, I can hear the sounds outside as the car door opens and shuts, followed by footsteps coming up the walkway until the doorbell rings. No wonder the house is so cold all the time.

  I hear Brax’s voice talking to the pizza man, telling him to keep the change, which means I owe him a portion of the pizza cost for Cade and me. I really hope Delaney doesn’t return home soon because then I’ll be dipping into next week’s grocery allowance—something Braxton Brentwood never has to worry about.

  “Ainsley,” Cade hollers up the stairs.

  I wonder how long I can camp out up here.

  My question is answered a few minutes later when there’s a knock on my door.

  “Give me a second!” I yell. I shrug my arm through the opening to my sweatshirt.

  I should not be flaunting my yoga pants and sweatshirt around Brax. I should be in the bathroom, putting on another layer of makeup and curling my hair, but Brax never needed a lot of convincing to put his hands on me.

  Not like I want him to anyway.

  I swing the door open, my mouth already ajar to tell Cade off for not only bringing Brax here, but also for conniving the pizza thing.

  But no words come out because it’s not Cade standing outside my door.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice not sounding nearly as confident as it should.

  “Hey.” Braxton’s tone mimics mine. He stares into my bedroom, as though someone might be behind me. “The pizza’s here.”

  “Yeah, I heard.” I grab the hem of my sweatshirt and wring it around my finger.

  “Well”—a smile teases his lips—“did you open it?”

  My teeth nibble on my bottom lip. “No.”

  “Why not?” he asks, his stance loosening from the rigidness.

  “It’s final, you know? Like, whatever it says will dictate if I attend medical school.”

  He slides by me, entering my room. My eyes scan the immediate area for any underwear or dirty dishes, lying around. I’m not usually one to keep a messy room, but knowing my luck, it would be Braxton who saw that side of me. He always sees the irresponsible side.

  “Where is it?” he asks, searching my desk.

  I follow behind him, putting everything back in place. “Stop messing up my room.”

  He goes to my nightstand, and I throw myself on the bed and hold the drawer closed with my hand.

  “Let go. I know what you keep in there,” he confidently says, questioning me with his eyes.

  “Maybe not anymore.” I raise my eyebrows, but we’re both aware I’m lying.

  “Let’s see.” He picks up my iPad, turning it on to find my latest book open. His finger hovers over the screen, his smile becoming more and more Cheshire-like the further he scans the book I’ve been reading. “Cock, pussy, fuck, ram me?” Those eyebrows rise, and he places my iPad back down on the desk. “I’m willing to bet your vibrator is still in that drawer.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and waits.

  “The letter isn’t in there,” I tell him, dodging the question.

  “That wasn’t what we were discussing.” His eyes shift to the nightstand drawer and back to me.

  Always the hotshot. The one who knows it all.

  “Let’s go have pizza.” I stand and make my way to the door.

  When I don’t hear his footsteps on the creaking floor, I turn around, finding him exactly in the same spot.

  He could open the drawer and find out that two vibrators lie in there—my old one and the one he gave me. But he’ll never find out it isn’t the scenes from romance novels I imagine while using them. It’s memories of us along with new visions of us together. But I’ll never divulge that piece of information.

  “Come on,” I sigh.

  His eyes shift again to the drawer, baiting me.

  “Cocky asshole,” I whine. I walk over to the nightstand, having to slide by him since he’s so damn big that he takes up the majority of my room. I pull the drawer out so hard, the two vibrators knock one another. “Happy?”

  I toss a condescending smile his way, and he chuckles. His arms never leave his chest, but his head falls back in complete laughter. I glance to the drawer one more time to see if I missed anything.

  Nope, just my vibrators.

  “I won’t be happy until you let me use it on you again.” He steps forward, his body locking my legs between him and the bed.

  My only choice is to fall back into my mattress, but that would only please him more.

  “See, that’s the thing, Braxton. I’ve always been able to please myself.” I cock my head a little, throwing some attitude his way.

  A smile emerges immediately. “Never as good as I can please you.”

  His sultry words are a direct hit between my thighs. He’s right. I know it, and he knows it. And probably half of my street knows it. With the sounds the guy erupted from me, I could have been a member of a traveling circus.

  To show him he no longer has an effect on me, I cross my arms and square my shoulders. “Can we eat, so you can leave?”

  He stares down at me, his eyes examining, as though he’s thinking about what to say or do, which is completely against everything he ever does. Braxton is a responder—no thinking between seeing and acting. It’s worked out for him most of his life. Every case, except for me.

  He steps back after a few seconds and waves his hand out, like a gentleman letting the lady go first.

  Not particularly fond of him being behind me, I walk down the hall and barrel down the stairs, my feet moving fast, but when I reach the kitchen, I stop. The pizza box is on the table with two water bottles, two paper plates, and napkins. No Cade.

  I whip around, and Braxton is right there, his arms hanging from the top of the doorframe, with that damn cocky grin on his face.

  “Where—”

  “Twenty dollars and a pizza can buy you a lot.” He winks.

  My stomach flips. I glance toward the microwave clock. Shit. Two hours until Delaney is off work.

  “Now, how about you get that envelope, and we’ll celebrate?” He walks by me, and I swear, he purposely rubs his chest along my back.

  Pulling out a chair, he sits down, his legs wide open. Flashes of when I would straddle him surface to my mind. One specific morning, I fed him bananas and grapes as I straddled him in that exact chair.

  My cheeks rush with heat from the memory, and when my eyes land on him, I’m fairly sure he’s remembering the same moment. The memory so clear, I almost wonder
why we broke up in the first place.

  5

  Brax

  It’s been five months since I last saw Ainsley, and even then, she didn’t see me.

  I had driven by her house, and through the light of the window, I could see her walking from the kitchen into the family room. Her hair was in a messy bun, her sweatshirt off one shoulder, and she had a bowl of what I guessed to be cereal in her hands. She always loved having cereal for dinner.

  Like a Peeping Tom, I watched her from across the street. She set the bowl down on the table in front of the couch and went over to the desk that held her grandma’s picture adorned in a frame. Then, she flipped through some envelopes. A car pulled into the driveway and parked in my spot next to the garage.

  My heart lurched in my chest. A guy climbed out of his car, and it was too dark for me to get a good look to see who he was, but his confident stride to the back door told me he wasn’t there for Delaney, nor was he a study partner. My suspicions were only confirmed when he walked right through the back door. Not a knock. He just strolled in through the kitchen. She turned toward him, and he walked right to her.

  I turned the ignition key and fled. The finality of our relationship was sealed right then. She’d moved on, and I planned on doing the same.

  Now, I’m sitting across from her. Again, her hair is in the messy bun, her sweatshirt exposing that delectable shoulder. The shoulder my lips and teeth were meant to bite and kiss. She picks up a slice of pizza and gracefully nibbles instead of actually eating.

  “So, let’s open the envelope,” I say after swallowing down my piece of pizza.

  “I’ll open it later.”

  “Ains, you have to be dying to open it.” I nudge because she usually caves when I press enough.

  Her eyes are glued to mine, but that teasing smile isn’t present. “I’m not ready.”

  I bite my pizza and pick up a stray piece of pepperoni, trying to figure out why I bribed her brother to get out of here. Obviously, this girl wants nothing to do with me. Worse is, why do I give a shit?