Pitching to Win (Over the Fence #1)

by Carrie Aarons

  "Look at Minka's face. She is definitely thinking about someone else in those tight pants." Kels winks at me, and I feel a wicked burn start to flood my cheeks.

  Ever since I'd confessed that we'd had sex at the beach, they were all over me for details. But I wasn't like them, I couldn't do that thing where I described my sex life in all its glorious and dirty detail. At least not yet. I didn't know if I ever could. Or if I'd want to. What happened between Owen and I in those intimate moments was sacrosanct. I didn't want to tell anyone about it for fear of tarnishing it.

  "Shut up." I swat at her and fan my face as the first of the Grover players run out onto the field. For the next fifteen minutes, we watch them warm up, stretching this muscle or that, practicing throwing and catching with one and other. I couldn't see Owen anywhere, but then remembered he would be in the bullpen, warming up his throwing arm with the pitching coach.

  The bleachers begin to fill with the sounds of flip-flops echoing on the metallic benches. About ten minutes before the game, I see Raquel and Carter take a seat with the rest of the parents in the section to the right of us. I don’t know if I should go down and say hello.

  I watch as Raquel swivels her head, searching the crowd, and then locks eyes with me. She waves emphatically, giving me a thumbs up. I wave back, trying to mimic that I'd talk to her after the game.

  "Who is that?" Chlo nods in Raquel's direction.

  "Owen's mom." I shrug, feeling a burst of happiness inside. I was cool with my boyfriend's mom. This really wasn't my life.

  "Are you kidding me? She looks like an exotic princess." They both kept staring at her, it was hard not to.

  "Well, supermodel, but yes, she's insanely gorgeous."

  My attention moved to the field when the announcer began rattling off the lineups, and the players ran out of their respective dugouts to stand on the base lines for the National Anthem. Of course Owen, the pitcher, was last. When he ran out, I felt my mouth go dry.

  He looked drop dead gorgeous on a bad day. In uniform? I suddenly needed to go to the restroom and fan myself somewhere else.

  He found me in the stands, flashing that devilish smile of his and taking off his hat so that his golden brown locks shimmer in the midday sun. Even though my hand is over my heart for The Star Spangled Banner, I can't keep my eyes off him. My boyfriend.

  It only gets worse when he takes the mound and I can see the muscled globes of his ass in those tight white baseball pants. Chloe was right.

  Someone starts a "Let's go Tigers!" chant as Owen starts to wave off the first pitches his catcher suggests. It dies down when he becomes stock still, winding up and hurling the ball in the direction of home plate.

  "Strike!" The batter didn't even have time to swing before the thud of the ball against the leather glove rings out into the stadium.

  Owen shuts them down with a 1-2-3 outing, and the team heads back into the dugout to suit up for batting.

  Owen is deeper into the lineup, I learn from someone behind us, while Miles bats cleanup. That means he is fourth in line, the position reserved for the best hitter on the team.

  As he steps to the plate, Chlo whistles loudly through her fingers. "Hit a homer #22!"

  Kels and I stare at her, shaking our heads at her enthusiasm.

  "What? He'll learn to love me." She smiles.

  Miles swings at the first pitch, getting a bit of it but sending it soaring up behind him into foul territory. He shakes his head, an intense, almost scary look on his face. Owen has told me about how bad his moods have been lately, but I'm definitely seeing it firsthand here.

  The other team's pitcher decides on a knuckle ball, even I know what that looks like, but chooses wrong. Miles swings, hitting the ball squarely in the middle, sending it flying high past the infield and out over the scoreboard on the back wall for a home run. He drives in his two teammates on base, and rounds slowly for home with a scowl on his face. So much for being happy go lucky Farris.

  The game continues on at that pace for the next five or so innings. Owen continues to dominate, only letting a handful of hits but no runs slip past him. Miles racks his run count up to four, nearing his single game record of six. Kels makes not one, but two trips to the concession stand, once for hotdogs and the next for ice cream. My best friend, the queen of food, who gains absolutely no weight and never works out. I hate her.

  Finally at the top of the seventh, Owen is taken out. He's done a mighty fine job, says someone else behind me, but the coach wants to rest his arm. No sense in over-using him before the season even starts.

  The Tigers wrap the rest of the game up tidily, with Miles hitting three more home runs, topping his previous record. He should be smiling to the moon, but instead just nods at the praise he's getting from all sides and walks to his car, driving away quickly. Funny, I didn't see any of his family approach him.

  I feel a set of big strong arms lift me up from behind, and I giggle, ecstatic that Owen is finally within arms length of me. Its pathetic, but I do feel better the instant he touches me. Even if I wasn't in a particularly bad mood to begin with.

  "Put that pretty girl down, stop embarrassing her and come give your mother a kiss." Raquel says from somewhere over my shoulder. My feet are planted back down on the grass, and Owen wheels me around. I get a glimpse of his perfectly tanned face before he swipes my mouth in a quick kiss. Then, turning to his mother, he plants a chaste kiss on her cheek.

  "Mom, you're making me look bad!" He pretends to whine. He shakes hands with his father, who tells him he pitched a great game. Owen looks uncomfortable, I think he still doesn't know what to do with this new-found praise.

  I make the round of introductions between my friends and Owen's parents.

  "You're Chloe Trabucco? I knew I recognized you! I saw you dance The Nutcracker at last year's Christmas pageant. Honey, you're spectacular!"

  Blushing, Chloe answers. "Oh I did okay…”

  "Excuse her, she doesn't realize that God literally put her on this earth to dance ballet." I smile in her direction, saving her from herself. Chloe is nothing if not modest. She was always way too hard on herself when it came to dance.

  "Thanks for coming you guys, you didn't have to do that." Owen interrupts us, clearly trying to get his parents out of here so we can go back to his house.

  "Ay, caro, we get it...Parents are uncool and you have a party to get to. We love you." His mom gives him a knowing smile, ruffling his hair a bit.

  We hug, and both of his parents tell me how nice it was to see me. I feel included, and its a bit addicting.

  "Ride with me, babe. Chloe can follow, right?"

  "Sureeee, just no road head, love birds. I don't need to see that." Kels laughs as she skips to the car.

  "Ew, you're so sick." I feel my face heat.

  "Not that I wouldn't be up for it—“Owen trails off when I give him the stink eye.

  I climb into his car, and don't even get my butt firmly planted in the seat when he yanks me towards him and sear my lips with a kiss. He doesn't let me up, and I don't want to go anywhere. His teeth nip at my lips, his tongue explores every crevice of my mouth.

  "You don't know how fired up I was to know you were watching in the stands..." He smashes his lips down onto mine again, fire scorching through my veins and lighting me up. Owen reaches for the hem of my shirt, something I'm more than ready to let him do as we sit in the front seat of his car in broad daylight.

  And then a horn starts to go off behind us.

  Breaking the kiss, fighting for a normal breath, I turn around to see Chlo and Kels fake making out in their car.

  "Assholes" I mutter, but make Owen button his seat belt and reverse out of the parking lot.

  The drive over to his house, which he shares with Miles and two other baseball players, is short. Its located right off campus in a neighborhood that screams college party houses.

  We pull into the gravel driveway, Chlo and Kels coming to a loud stop beside us. Pop music is blaring ou
t of her BMW, causing the boys in the house to file out onto the raised front porch.

  "What is that?" A gruff looking guy in nothing but a towel says, surveying us from above. Tattoos cover his pale, muscled flesh.

  "Hey guys, this is Minka. And her friends." Kels and Chlo don't even bother saying anything after Owen does. They’re too mesmerized by the mirage of hot men standing on the porch above us.

  Miles, still in his tight white baseball pants, jersey nowhere in sight, looks pissed. "Turn that fucking shit down. And who invited princess to stay here? Hope your beamer doesn't get too scratched up at the party tonight." With that, he marches back into the house, slamming the cheap looking front door behind him.

  Chlo looks hurt, especially since its Miles who yelled at her. "Don't worry about him sweetheart. I like that pop shit just fine," The last guy on the porch looks more like a linebacker than a baseball player. He is huge, and not just in the height arena. The beard that covers his face would be, if I had to guess, his attempt to hide the fuller portion of his chin, and his belly pushes at the front of his shirt as he leans over the railing to take a good look at us.

  "Come on up," Owen encourages us, scooping all three of our bags from Chlo's trunk with no struggle. My heart may have swooned a bit at that.

  We walk into his house, and immediately wrinkle our noses.

  "I know, I'm sorry about the smell. The house hasn't really been aired out all summer, and four boys live here so..."

  I tune Owen out, something I usually never do, to take in the meager house. Not that its rundown, but it just looks exactly like he's said. Like four guys live here. The walls are white, with no adornments but the odd beer sign here or there, and a life size poster or two of what I'm guessing are their favorite baseball players. Dishes crowd the sink, and I don't want to know if they're only from this weekend, or have been there for months since school ended.

  Liquor and beer cases line the counter, evidence of the party about to ensue. A large grey sectional accented by two wood end tables and a matching coffee table are the only furniture in the living room, besides a gigantic TV mounted to the opposite wall. A large dining room table sits in the open space between the kitchen and the living room, stacked high with papers and take-out menus.

  "So this is college. Glad I'm not going..."Kels says sarcastically.

  The big burly linebacker laughs. Its more of a boom.

  Owen introduces us to him, Clint, and his other roommate, Parker, who is grumpily eating a bowl of cereal at the dining room table.

  "You two can take the fifth bedroom, I have an air mattress you can sleep on." Owen gestures them down the hall.

  "Why do you have a fifth bedroom?" Chlo asks.

  "We were supposed to have a new guy coming into the team, coach asked us to include him. But he never showed up." Owen shrugs, nudging the door open with his shoulder.

  "Good, as long as no one like, died in here." Kels says, no hint of joking in her tone. Chlo and I exchange a look of ridiculousness.

  The room was like the rest of the house, white walls, builder's model normal. At least it smelled ok. He set their bags on the floor.

  "Party starts in an hour."

  Chlo makes a mad dash to her stuff. "An hour! You better have outlets in here, Axel. A girl needs to do her hair!"

  I giggle, but the sound is cut off when Owen picks me up and carries me out of the room. "Hey! I need to get ready too!"

  "Get a room you two!" Kels calls out.

  "That's my plan!" Owen shouts back. "You look good enough to eat, and no one needs to do that but me," he says quieter, for only my ears.

  I was going to protest more, but the words eating and me come out of his mouth and my head goes straight to the gutter.

  He pushes open his door, at the opposite end of the house, and the room goes by in a flash of light as he deposits me on the bed.

  The room is Owen, simple but clean. His mother's chic touch is missing, but he still has a massive king bed that takes up most of the room, with a matching dresser and TV stand. Hanging over his bed, framed, is his high school jersey.

  He comes down on top of me, placing himself at the apex of my thighs. I feel him, hard and pulsing, through his uniform, and everything in me liquefies.

  He pins his hands down beside my head, I am so aware of him that I can practically feel the coiling of his arm muscles as he gyrates against me.

  I seek his tongue in his mouth, sucking on it and pulling it back to mine. His hands tickle up my ribcage, pushing the tank top I have on high enough so that he can slip one hand into the cup of my bra. Reaching down, I cup his package through his pants, stroking my thumb up and down the rigid length.

  "Hey guys, come watch! Axel is giving a free porn show in his room!" Clint’s sarcastic yelling snaps me out of Owen's seduction. I sit up quickly, almost smacking my forehead against his, and yank my top down. Owen bounds to door, slamming it shut and muttering "fucking dick," before coming back to sit beside me.

  "Sorry, babe. Guys and all...."

  "Its ok." I tenderly touch his face. I wish we could just spend tonight locked in here. But Owen wants me on his arm as his girlfriend at a college party, and I can't pass up that opportunity. I need to see how things are going to work. If they can work. Not that I'll be able to let him go even if I know they can't. "I'm going to get ready with the girls. Go shower, you stink."

  He sighs and flops on the bed, his dick still painfully hard in his pants. "You're a tease. I expect you to repay this debt later..."

  "You can count on it." I kiss him quick enough so that he can't pull me back down, and turn to leave the room.

  * * *

  A glass goes flying across the room, smashing and breaking against the stark white wall, brown liquid sloshing down it in a dripping pattern.

  "Told you I could hit the bullseye!" The drunk girl stumbles a bit on her sky-high heels, wrapping her arms around her friends shoulders and noisily kissing her cheeks.

  "Bet you won't makeout..." A very drunk, and definitely high Farris eggs the two on, leering over them at his epic height.

  The girls look at each other, back at Miles, and then dive tongues first into each other's faces. Farris flashes a grin, tugging on their hands to lead them back to his room across from Owen's. Yuck.

  Is this how college parties are?

  I'm used to high school parties, where everyone knows everyone, or knows of everyone anyway. This is a whole different ballgame. Excuse the terrible metaphor.

  The girls all stand in mile-high heels, teetering in their little skirts and dresses. I overheard one girl talking about how long it took her to put in extensions, and another fluttering her can’t-be-real lashes at the boy grinding on her butt to the beat of the music.

  There was no way I could compete with this. I looked better than normal, I thought, in my skinny white jeans and dark blue crop top. Yes, Kels has gotten me into one. I had gold wedge sandals on that made me a few inches taller. Owen had almost dragged me back to his room when he’d seen me. But now? I had no clue where he was.

  My friends looked like they had found Narnia. They were beyond wasted at this point, the clock about to hit 10 p.m. They had been ruling on the pong table for a while now; for a ballerina and a hippie they had surprisingly perfect accuracy.

  I was nursing my second drink as I walked over.

  “MINKS!” Chloe practically hangs from my neck as she jumps on me. I think its supposed to be a hug.

  “Hi love.” I pat her head, laughing at her clearly intoxicated state. Someone yells for her to take her turn. Without so much as a glance at the cups, she chucks the ball over her shoulder. And sinks it.

  “Ohhhh!” Her and Kels yell simultaneously as they chest bumped like football bros. My two best friends, the jocks.

  “Where is lover boy?” Kels, a little less drunk then Chlo eyes me suspiciously.

  “Miles has been ignoring me all night. I think he hooked up with some skank!” Chloe whines. I wasn’t about t
o fess up that it might have been two skanks.

  Kels rolls her eyes, sticking the straw of her drink in her mouth. “Not your lover boy, idiot. Owen.”

  “I don’t know…” I trail off, swiveling my head around the party like I’d been doing for the last hour. I seriously had no idea where he was. “I’m going to go find him.”

  Surveying the house one last time, I know he wasn’t anywhere in here. Making my way to the back deck, I run into Clint.

  “Hey, Owen’s girl.” He grins at my scowl. While I liked being Owen’s girlfriend, I had my own identity. “I know, Minka. Anyways…is your friend, the pretty, short one, single?”

  Kelsey? I eye him. She would never, ever go for him. Not to say Kels was shallow, but Parker was definitely more her type. If she ever considered guys for more than sex. Which she didn’t.

  “Kelsey, yeah she is. But that’s of her own doing. Word of advice? Don’t try it. She doesn’t do boyfriends. Or boy friends for that matter.”

  He doesn’t look phased by my words at all. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Uh oh, I think I just added fuel to his fire rather than unlighting that match. At least I’d warned him.

  I walked to the railing, sipping my beer slowly as I peered over the yard. I couldn’t bring myself to drink more. I wanted to be fully aware for whatever Owen had planned for me later.

  The lawn is riddled with red cups, cigarette butts and the same brand of scantily clad girls clinging to beefed up jocks. I guess I can't call them that anymore, since my boyfriend is one of those jocks.

  Yelling from a folding table on the lawn catches my attention, and when I turn to see what the fuss is about, I'm greeted by the sight of said boyfriend, enthusiastically hugging a blonde in the tightest mini-dress I've ever seen.

  My heart plummets into my stomach and feels like it might burn a whole through my abdomen. I tell myself to calm down, that it might just be a friendly game, but I can't seem to push the knot of emotion back down my throat.