I opt not to work-out, but to start changing for the game. The routine is the same: Socks, cup, jock strap, Under Armor and finally my pants, but not my jersey. I’ll change into that later. I leave my cleats untied and sit on my stool, waiting. My thoughts return to what Stone said, about how it’s nice to help out. I don’t know if what I’ve done is a good thing or not, but it’s the only thing I can think of to get Daisy’s attention. If it’s successful, I owe the ladies in the main office lunch, roses and a day of pampering.
The clubhouse opens for the media and I find myself sitting tall and proud. As soon as the reporter from NESN comes over to me, I know I’m ready.
“Ethan, care to chat today?” That has been their standard question every day since I joined the team. I nod eagerly like a damn buffoon.
“Great. Your batting average is one of the highest in the league and there’s chatter that you’ll be a shoo-in for the batting title. This is only your second season, are you surpassing your personal expectations?”
What the fuck is this noise? Why didn’t media training train me on how to answer these types of questions instead of worrying about my relationship status on Facebook?
I pretend that there’s something fascinating on the floor and bend sideways to pick it up before answering. This sly move gives me only seconds of a reprieve before the microphone is being thrust into my face.
“Each day that I go out there, it’s to win for Boston and my teammates.” The reporter smiles and thanks me for my time. I close my eyes and mentally kick my ass for being so fucking dumb when it comes to this shit. It makes me want to call my college coach and tell him to mandate that a class like this be taken.
As soon as it’s time, I’m out of the clubhouse and onto the field. I find myself looking for Daisy every chance I get, only to find her seat empty. When we start stretching out in centerfield, I angle myself so I can spot her when she starts descending the stairs. My stalking levels know no bounds right now and I’m ashamed of myself.
By the time batting practice is over, she’s still not here, which is late for her. We head back into the clubhouse to change and meet with Diamond and the other coaches to go over the game. It’s hard to predict how a game is going to go. If pitching is tight, but batting isn’t, the game could be a battle. End up with a shitty night of pitching and swift bats – we could be putting up matching runs. Ideally, you want your strong pitcher to out duel theirs and let the bats do all the talking. The guy we’re facing tonight gave me my first grand slam last year. I thanked him by having him sign a game ball since the one I hit over the wall was taken by a fan. It probably wasn’t very nice of me, but I needed the memento.
We come back out to do some more game prep and to start the pomp and circumstance that goes into every game. As I step out, the music is a bit louder and the fans are filling their seats. Looking around I see people stuffing their faces with hotdogs, nachos and popcorn, with beer being the chaser. It’s been so long since I’ve been a spectator at a game. I miss those days.
My eyes finally land on Daisy’s seat and, much to my surprise, it’s empty. I try not to let this bother me but it does. Meyers slaps me on the back as he passes, reminding me that standing here looking like an idiot isn’t doing anyone any good.
I take my spot on the track and take off my hat. Everyone is instructed to rise for the playing of our National Anthem. I keep my eyes focused on the flag while I sing the words in my head. The moment the singer has finished, fireworks go off, signaling the start of the game. I turn away from where Daisy usually sits, unwilling to see her seat still empty, and head to the dugout to grab my glove.
We tell each other good luck and then we all pat Hawk Sinclair on the ass as we go by him. He’s in the zone and doesn’t pay us any attention. Once he gets the first batter under his belt, he’ll loosen up.
The moment my cleats touch the warning track, I’m looking left. My feet halt in their tracks and my heart stops. Sitting in the seat next to Daisy is her grandfather, and it’s my grand gesture, as Sarah calls it that put him there. After my calls and texts to her went unanswered, I had to come up with something to let her know that she’s important to me; so I made arrangements to have the Renegades staff do what they could to bring her grandfather to the game, and it looks like they’ve succeeded.
I should walk over to her and say hi, but I don’t. I need to let everything settle and see if she comes to me. I’ve extended the olive branch - hell it’s a fucking tree - and if she wants to be with me, the ball is in her court now.
After a tough week and a half on the road, the BoRe’s started a five game home stand with a win over the Texas Rangers, besting them by one run.
Tonight’s game was a nail biter; down to the ninth inning when with two outs, short stop, Easton Bennett, hit a solo shot deep into center, putting it out of reach of Delino DeShields.
The bats were decent for the Rangers, who were leading the game from the first inning. However, solid batting from Branch Singleton and Ethan Davenport kept the BoRe’s on the cusp most of the night.
Welcome home, Boys! Boston missed you.
GOSSIP WIRE:
Congratulations to Easton Bennett. Not only did he have the game winner, but his on-and-off again girlfriend gave birth today to a son. No word from the Bennett camp on who the father is and considering Easton was busy playing… well you can fill in the blanks.
The BoRe Blogger
The hot water warms my sore shoulder muscles, allowing me to rotate my arm with ease and prevent injury. There was a slight chill in the air that I didn’t prepare for during tonight’s game and I’m afraid I may end up paying for it tomorrow when I wake up.
All night I watched Daisy’s grandfather observe the game. You could tell by the way he participated between innings that he was in his element. If given the opportunity, I’d like to sit him down and ask if he played when he was younger. Some people enjoy the game, but those who grew up playing ball in streets until the streetlights came on, they love the game. It’s a different kind of love than the kind one has for a family member or friend – it’s hard to explain. For me, the game means everything. As for Daisy’s grandfather – well I’m not sure I’ll ever know.
Bringing Daisy’s grandfather to the game was Sarah’s idea. We stayed up most of the night talking about Daisy and how I feel. I thought it would be weird to discuss the girl I want to be my girlfriend with the girl who used to be my girlfriend, but it actually wasn’t. Sarah said a grand gesture was needed. I thought roses being sent to school would do the trick. That thought earned me a slap on my bare shoulder as Sarah and I lay side-by-side in her bed, fully clothed and not touching, after she had been satisfied by Bob. It was Sarah who suggested that Daisy’s grandfather come to the field and if it weren’t for her, tonight wouldn’t have happened.
During the game, the batboy for the Rangers gave him a ball and the BoRe Squad made sure he “caught” one of the shirts they hand out. The shirts are cheesy and often filled with sponsor promos but it’s the excitement of having one land in your hands that makes it worth it. Each time I checked, I purposely avoided eye contact with Daisy. I didn’t know what to expect, so I thought it best that we not look at each other. I could’ve pissed her off with this stunt. I’m hoping that I haven’t, but at least I was able to help her grandfather see a game - one that she probably wouldn’t be able to get him to. I’m tempted to call her, but I’d really like her to make the first move. I want to hear her voice. I’m not looking for a thank you. I am only looking for the door to open again.
Shutting the water off, I step out of the shower and reach for my towel. The doorbell rings as I run it over my hair, trying to dry it off as much as possible. I curse myself for not drying fully as I leave a trail of water behind me, but I’m more worried about who is at the door over ruining my floors. A quick glance at the clock tells me its half past eleven and I know I didn’t order any food. Kidd was threatening to have a “nurse” stop by and visit me late
r tonight, and if he actually called for an escort I’m going to string him up by his balls.
Everything moves in slow motion as I pull open the door and stand naked, except for the towel that is cinched around my waist, staring at Daisy. The soft glow from my porch light makes her look angelic and peaceful. She looks at me, opening and closing her mouth as if she’s unsure about what to say. I know what it’s like not being able to find the words that you need to say to someone. It took me far too long to reach out to her and once I started, she ignored me. My hand absentmindedly rubs over my chest, causing her mouth to drop open. I can’t help the smirk that forms as she watches me.
It’s as if time stands still as her gaze slowly meets mine. I don’t know if it’s desire or hatred that I see. Her fists clench at her sides, her shoulders are square and her luscious lips are in a thin line making me want to throw her over my shoulder and put her down on my bed so I can have my way with her. My thoughts drift back to the night of the rotary dinner, of her naked and on my bed. Her body responds to my touch so easily, giving into the temptation that both of us were feeling.
“I’m wicked pissed at you,” she blurts out, interrupting my recollection of the other night.
“Huh?” is the most intelligible response I can come up with because right now I’m very distracted by picturing her in very compromising positions far from my front porch.
“You,” she says angrily as she points toward my bare chest. My hand covers the imaginary spot that she stabbed as I step back, away from her dagger. “What you did…”
Daisy looks away and sighs, her shoulders slumped. My hand reaches for her, but I pull it back quickly. She’s not mine to touch right now. When she meets my eyes again, there are unshed tears dancing along her green orbs.
“Daisy…” My voice cracks as if my heart is breaking. It’s not, but I am trying to show her that I care, that I’m really the good guy here regardless of what people post about me. Yes, I like women and sex, but I’m human and single. I’m not hurting anyone by having one-night stands. The women I pick up aren’t looking for a long-term commitment, nor do they care if I call.
I called Daisy. I pursued her. I want to be with her.
She shakes her head, bringing her fingers to her lips as if she’s trying to keep her words trapped inside. I look out over her shoulder to see a lady walking her dogs. She gives me a slight wave, looking unsure of herself, likely because of the way I’m dressed. I wave back, careful to keep my hand on my hip where I’m holding my towel.
“Today, for the first time since my grandma died, my grandpa laughed. He smiled, ate a hotdog at the ballpark and heckled the opposing team. He was able to do all of this because of you and I want to know why.”
Shit what do I say? Is it because I want to make her smile or get in her pants? Is it because all I do is think about her? I’m not sure I can tell her that the reason I did it was so that she’d talk to me; because that’s purely selfish and the intent of the gift wasn’t meant to be that way.
“I did it because going to a game seemed important to him.”
Before I can register what’s going on, Daisy has her arms wrapped around my neck and her tongue deep in my mouth. She moans when I start to return her kiss. My towel falls away, leaving me bare-ass naked for all my neighbors to see. I fumble with door and try to move us away at the same time without me rubbing my junk all over her leg. I kick the door shut and blindly fumble with the lock. The last thing I want is for someone like Kidd coming over even though it’s too late for visitors.
Cupping her ass in my hands, I pull her legs around my waist and walk us toward my bedroom, leaving my towel on the floor. I’m being presumptuous, I know that, but I can’t help it because she’s working my mouth like a pro while her hands grip my hair. I set her down and pull away, using my thumb under her chin to bring her eyes up to look at me.
“Do you want this?”
The subtle nod she gives me has my dick hardening.
“We can’t take it back once we do this. You have to be sure.”
“I am,” she says softly.
“Is this because I brought your grandpa to the game?” This is my fear. I don’t want her thinking she has to sleep with me to return the favor. That’s not why I did it. I just wanted the opportunity to talk to her.
Daisy stands so she’s pressed against my chest. I’m trying not to think about how fucking hot it would be put my dick in between her perfect mounds and titty fuck her. I know it’s too much to ask for, but a guy can fantasize.
“No, it’s because I want this with you. You’re always in my thoughts, in my dreams and I think about having you inside me. At night, when I’m in bed, I touch myself, imagining it’s your fingers moving over my body.”
Her fingers trace the outlines of my muscles, causing my skin to pebble. I’m trying not to let her words get to me, but it’s no use. My heart is beating faster and my muscles constrict as she touches me. My skin is on fire, just like every other time her skin comes in contact with mine. My throat aches, even though it’s not sore, but the excitement is so much that there’s a pang there keeping my voice on lockdown while my cock has a mind of its own and is ready, straining to have some action.
“When I let my fingers push into me, I picture you doing it. I think about you being the one to cause that warmth to spread through my body.”
My head falls back when her mouth latches onto my nipple. She bites and I groan, grabbing her shoulders in reflex.
“I’m here because I want to be and tonight showed me that I’ve been wrong about you and us. I’m here if you want me.”
“I so fucking want you,” I tell her as I pull her shirt up and over her head. With a flick of my thumb and index finger her bra is off. Her breasts brush against my abs and my dick thinks the attention is all for him. He jerks against her skin, asking her to touch him.
And when she does I have to think about baseball stats so I don’t come before I get the opportunity to get inside her. Her small hand wraps around the base of my dick and starts pumping slowly.
“Tell me if I’m doing this wrong.”
“No such thing as wrong when you’re the one who’s touching me,” I tell her, reassuring her that I’m fucking putty when it comes to her hands and lips.
“I want to make you feel good.” She has no fucking idea that the images she has put in my mind will make me feel good for days to come. Knowing she touches herself and wants it to be me strokes my fucking ego like there’s no tomorrow. When her fingers make her come, she’s wishing it were me doing that to her.
Tonight, I’ll make her fantasies come true.
“Fuck, Daisy, just you being here makes me feel good.”
Placing my lips on hers, I give her a long overdue kiss. One that I hope curls her toes and makes her weak in the knees. My tongue dips into her mouth, slow and languid, setting a sweet and steady pace. My hand cups her cheek while the other massages her breast. Our lips move against each other while our tongues meet in unison. The heat inside me starts to build as I pull her flush to my body.
Daisy’s hands roam over my body, from my hair, to my cheeks, chest, and finally resting one on my dick, returning the attention she was giving him moments ago. As much as I want her to keep going, I want her naked and lain out on my bed. Dropping to my knees, I kiss along the waistband of her shorts before unbuttoning them and sliding them down her legs. She steps out, placing her hands on my shoulders to keep steady. I pull off each of her flip-flops and toss them into a pile near where I threw her shorts.
I nip at her skin near her panties before hooking my fingers into the sides to bring them down her legs. When she lifts her leg to step out, I hook her leg over my shoulder.
“Can I kiss you here?” I ask as I run my finger over her clit and into the chasm that will certainly be my death. Her head falls back as I pump in and out of her. She doesn’t answer and maybe that should be a sign that she does want my mouth on her. If the moaning that’s coming from her o
r the rocking of her hips as she rubs herself against my hand is any indication, I don’t think she’ll care.
I pick her up, putting her other leg on my shoulder so her pussy is right where I need it. I don’t wait as I dive right in. Lapping between her lips and up to her clit, I suck gently before doing it again. Daisy grips my hair, pulling handfuls that hurt like a motherfucker, but I love it. I welcome it. The moment my tongue plunges into her pussy, I’m gone.
Carrying her over to my bed, I set her down roughly. She bounces and all that does is give me more of her sweet taste. I palm my cock to ease some of the tension and silently tell him to calm down because he’ll get his time soon.
“I could do this every day,” I say against her skin as I insert two fingers into her. She’s tight and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her.
“This… this…” her hips start rocking and her hands dig into the blanket. Keeping my fingers pumping I suck on her clit, watching her body get worked into a frenzy by me this time and not from her own doing.
As much as it pains me, I move away from her and head to my nightstand, pulling open the drawer and grabbing a condom. One look from her and I’m on top, mouth-to-mouth, chest-to-chest with my cock nestled between us. My hand ghosts down her chest, over her breast until my mouth can follow. Her nipples are peaked and I bite gently, pulling one into my mouth. Her back arches, pushing her breasts into my face.
“Ethan…”
“Yeah, Baby?”
I sit back and push her knees wide, spreading her before me. Even my wide frame is going to stretch her and hurt. Running my finger down her slit, she’s flush and eager when she pushes her hips toward me. Ripping open the condom packet, I pull out the rubber that’s going to keep us both safe even though I look forward to the day when I can feel her bare.
The moment I grip my dick, I hiss. I’m sensitive and throbbing. I never take my eyes off of Daisy’s as I roll the condom on. I want to see her eyes. I want the acknowledgement in her face of what we’re about to do. My hand trails up her hip, gripping her lightly.
Third Base (The Boys of Summer #1) Page 15