Playing the Field

by Christina Benjamin

  I sat up eyes wide with confusion. “How? He hassles me every chance he gets.”

  “Yeah, you’re gunning for his spot.”

  “So what, I’m just supposed to let him have it because he was here first?”

  “I didn’t say that, but Grant would be coming this hard at anyone trying to take shortstop from him. Baseball means everything to him.”

  “Well, it means everything to me too.”

  Lucas shrugged. “Then you’re at a stalemate, but you both need to learn to work together or we’re gonna look like a bunch of chumps.”

  I bristled. “Because there’s a girl on your team?”

  “No, because Grant is one of our best players and when he’s distracted we all look bad.”

  “And let me guess, I’m the distraction?”

  Lucas gave me a smirk. “I didn’t say you’re a bad distraction. I saw your slide today,” he said bumping his shoulder into mine. “It was awesome.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, calming again. “It’s one of the first things my dad taught me.”

  “Mind giving me some tips tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  Before he could say anything else six trays of square pizza and a dozen baskets of wings and mozzarella sticks were delivered to our table. And just like that I slipped back into an easy banter with Lucas and my teammates as we passed around the delicious greasy food.

  I found it was easier to bond with a bunch of boisterous boys when their mouths were full.

  I sat back and thoroughly enjoyed my first post-practice meal as an official Trojan.

  Today had been a victory—even with PRINCESS on the back of my jersey.

  The first thing I did after I got home from dinner with my team was call the Tomboy Trio and fill them in on my progress with the Trojans. Jordan and Hannah were both super proud of me for winning them over. They also had a plethora of ideas for how to get revenge on Grant for his jersey stunt.

  We laughed until our stomachs hurt as I mentally cataloged all their ingenious pranks, but I had a pretty good one myself. When I shared it with them, it was unanimously voted the number one plan of attack.

  Now I just had to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

  Since I had nothing but time to kill, I decided to do some research.

  I couldn’t get what Casey said in the ladies’ room out of my head, so after I hung up with my best friends I opened the Tattler to see just what she meant by ‘Grant doesn’t date.’

  Two hours later, I was no closer to the truth.

  The Tattler confirmed that Casey was right. Headings like ‘King pledges celibacy’ or ‘No queen for our King this season,’ were all over the gossip site at the start of the school year. But the closest thing I could find to an explanation as to why Grant suddenly decided not to date after earning such a prestigious reputation as a player both on and off the field, was in a post right before I started at Northwood.

  Trojan Tattler:

  The only scoring hunky heartthrob Grant King will be doing this year is on the baseball field. Rumor has it Northwood’s most eligible bachelor still hasn’t changed his mind about dating. Flirt all you want ladies, but this future Major Leaguer is focused on the field.

  There were a million comments from girls eagerly pledging their talents to change his mind, but I skipped over them, not liking the ugly flare of jealousy they roused.

  Once again, I found myself surprisingly impressed by Grant. Giving up dating to focus on sports was a level of dedication that was rare to find among athletes, let alone a hormone-fueled high school boy. There was more to him than he let on and it made me want to keep digging.

  From the day I’d met him I’d seen a depth in him that made me want to know more. But that was when he’d seen me as someone he wanted to kiss. Not someone he was willing to share the field with. I just wished there was a way to do both.

  I couldn’t explain it. Each time he opened his mouth, Grant gave me every reason to despise him. Yet . . . it wasn’t so much what he said that drew me in, but what he didn’t say. It was all the subtle moments between his words; his lingering glances, his smoldering smirks. Each one chipped away at my resolve to see him as an enemy.

  But if he wasn’t my enemy, what was he?

  Until I figured that out, I’d have to keep my guard up. I wouldn’t let those dimples of his disarm me again.

  At least not until I got revenge for my jerseys.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Grant

  Trojan Tattler:

  It’s official, the Trojans are fielding a Princess this season, and from the looks of her jersey, she couldn’t be prouder of her royal status. She’s proven she can play the field, but it remains to be seen if she can handle a bat. Don’t choke, Princess.

  @trojantattler: Did you see her slide at practice? Girlz got skillz. – okaychica

  @trojantattler: I’d let her slide into my sheets. – askyurgrl_boutme

  @trojantattler: I think you’ll have to fight Tyler Bishop for that privilege. – kissmyaxel

  I threw my phone back in my gym bag, wondering why I’d bothered to check the stupid school gossip site.

  “You know exactly why you checked it,” I muttered to myself.

  These days, the Tattler was the only way I could find out what was going on between Alex and Tyler. I’d survived a full week of practices with her as a teammate, but instead of things gradually getting better between us, they felt worse than ever.

  Tyler followed her around like a love-sick puppy, leaving me so distracted I was making rookie mistakes left and right on the field. Coach was over my piss-poor performance, but I didn’t know how to rectify things.

  I’d tried to talk to Alex in chemistry, but every conversation seemed to turn into another bout of verbal kickboxing. So here I was, turning to the Trojan Tattler for my gossip like a crush-crazed freshman. And honestly, it wasn’t really helping.

  Shifting through all the trashy comments wasn’t worth it. It only fueled my paranoia that something was going on between Alex and Tyler—a thought which made me physically ill. That and the fact that Lucas had been right. Alex had been taking a lot of heat since joining the boys’ team, and even I had to admit she was handling it pretty well. It made me feel even worse about changing her practice jersey order form so all her shirts had PRINCESS printed on the back.

  How old was I? Nine?

  That’s certainly how I’d been behaving.

  It didn’t help that I was constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for Alex to retaliate. So far, she’d been true to her word and been nothing but a pro on the field, but I knew she wouldn’t let my jersey prank slide. She was plotting something, and I hated that I didn’t know when or where I’d be served a hefty dose of payback.

  Sometimes I wondered if I should just tell her that watching her with Tyler was the worst form of torture she could ever make me endure. But knowing Alex, she’d probably date him just to drive me crazy.

  Get it together, King!

  I grabbed my gym bag, zipped up my jacket and climbed onto my bike. Maybe the brisk ride home would help me get Alex Prince out of my head.

  Yeah right! I had a feeling not even a lobotomy would do the trick.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alex

  I watched Grant walk into chemistry with rabid curiosity. I’d been studying his routine for weeks now waiting for my chance to get him back. Thanks to my conversations with the Tomboy Trio, I’d worked out the exact details of my prank. Now I just needed to wait for the perfect moment to hatch my plan.

  When I noticed the familiar black gym bag slung across Grant’s broad shoulders, I grinned. Today was Thursday, that meant we had Phys-Ed after lunch. Which also meant Grant would have his gym bag with him so he could go from chemistry to lunch to the gym since his locker was on the opposite side of the school.

  And that meant, for the next fifty minutes, I would have access to everything I needed to exact my revenge.

&
nbsp; Now all I needed was a way to distract him, and if I knew Grant King, it would be all too easy.

  “Coach is assigning positions next week,” I said when Grant sat down. “You nervous?”

  “No.”

  “You should be,” I replied, twirling my hair until I noticed his jaw muscles start to twitch.

  Step 1: Rile him up.

  Check!

  “With the way you’ve been playing you’ll be lucky to ride the bench,” I added continuing to push his buttons so he wouldn’t see what was coming.

  I slid my beaker closer to him with one hand while my other grabbed his calloused fingers. “You know, I can recommend a great manicurist since your hands probably won’t be seeing much action after the starting lineup is announced.”

  Just as I’d expected, Grant jerked his hand from mine with such force he knocked the unseen beaker onto his lap, leaping up in surprise as the harmless blue liquid splashed onto him.

  He glared at me, swearing under his breath as he stomped to the teacher and asked to be excused to the restroom. For a moment I thought my entire plan had been foiled when Grant lumbered back to our desk and grabbed his gym bag. But to my delight, he merely rummaged through it for a fresh shirt before exiting the classroom.

  Step 2: Separate him from his bag.

  Check!

  I quickly grabbed the bottle of my mom’s homemade muscle rub and located what I was looking for in Grant’s gym bag. With a few quick sprays the deed was done. I slipped the spray back into my own bag and grinned. Now all I had to do was wait. The Prince family recipe for sore muscles would do the rest.

  Grant

  The only good thing about dumping blue dye all over my shirt in chemistry was it got me a reprieve from Alex’s sharp tongue for the rest of class. She worked quietly alongside me until the bell rang and I made sure to sit far away from her at lunch so I could do my best to ignore Tyler’s efforts to flirt with her.

  However, as I walked into the gymnasium, I feared my luck had run out. Our Phys-Ed teacher was rolling a cart of dodgeballs into the middle of the gym while his assistant set up cones. My entire baseball team was in my Phys-Ed class, so I knew there was no way I was going to escape Alex’s wrath.

  I groaned as we lined up and counted off for teams. When Alex and Tyler ended up on the opposing team, I decided it was a win. I’d let Alex peg me with a dodgeball all day if it meant she’d finally get her payback for my jersey prank. Plus, I’d get to take out my frustrations on Tyler and light him up with as many dodgeballs as I could wrangle.

  Lucas was on my team and we automatically lined up next to each other. When the whistle blew, we fell into the familiar rhythm of scrambling for balls and having each other’s backs.

  Sneakers squeaked across the floor and the temperature in the gym climbed as the competition heated up. I was no stranger to working up a sweat, but the warmth in my drawers was starting to raise concern. The more I moved the more everything began to tingle. What started as a faint sting morphed into a five-alarm fire in my pants as I continued to exert myself on the dodgeball court.

  The whistle blew ending our current heat and I jogged back to the line, bouncing on the balls of my feet to try to stave off the horrendous stinging. I tried to readjust my jock strap but the stinging sensation only got stronger. I started running in place to distract myself from the pain, causing Lucas to look at me like I had two heads.

  I blew out quick breaths trying to dispel the burning in my briefs.

  “Dude, you okay?” Lucas asked.

  “No, I think . . . I think something’s wrong down there.”

  “Down where?”

  I glanced quickly to my shorts and Lucas burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Dustin asked, joining us on the line.

  I glared at my second baseman. “Nothing.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call a problem down there nothing,” Lucas said, still laughing.

  “This is serious,” I hissed. “It burns!”

  “You stud!” Dustin whooped. “It’s about time you broke that ‘no girls’ rule. What little lady’s got you burning for her?”

  “It’s not like that,” I said through gritted teeth, but Dustin and Lucas weren’t listening. They were too busy holding each other up from laughter. And it’s not like I could do anything about it with the growing situation in my shorts.

  The whistle blew and the game was on again.

  I ran for the dodgeballs, wanting to focus on anything other than the scorching sensation searing my manhood. Alex met at half court, snatching away the ball I was going for.

  “What’s wrong, Grant? You look like something’s got you hot and bothered.”

  My mouth fell open in shock when I saw the clever glint in her eye. “You!”

  “Payback’s a bitch,” she said, pegging me with the dodgeball before I had a chance to react.

  “What did you do to me?” I yelled.

  “Relax, you’ll be fine. It’s just sore muscle spray. I figured you needed it since you’re such a sore sport.” With a wink, she turned and jogged away, dodging every rubber ball hurled her way.

  Instead of sitting on the floor like I should’ve after getting tagged out, I ran for the showers. Now that I knew what the problem was, my only goal was washing it off.

  Once under the cold spray of the shower I could finally relax. I leaned against the wall in relief as the burning started to subside. I cranked the dial until the water temperature was so cold I had goosebumps.

  Another cold shower because of Alex Prince.

  This was becoming a habit and I was tired of it.

  Game on, Princess!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Alex

  I’d yet to stop grinning since my gym class stunt a few days ago. It had worked out so much better than I’d planned.

  How was I supposed to know Grant wore his jockstrap during Phys-Ed?

  The best I’d hoped for was to see him uncomfortably dancing around at baseball practice, but instead he’d announced his crotch crisis to half the junior class during dodgeball before hot-stepping it to the locker room to cool off.

  I admit the potion had been much more potent than I’d intended since Grant had unwittingly used it much sooner than I’d anticipated, but I refused to let myself feel bad.

  Grant King had done nothing but make my life more difficult since I joined the Trojans. This was my little way of helping him warm up to the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I smirked at my wicked sense of humor, still picturing Grant’s face when he’d realized he didn’t have an STD. It was the perfect prank and I’d had almost as much fun reliving the story for the Tomboy Trio and Casey as I’d actually had watching Grant sprint to the locker room to cool down his nuclear nether-lands.

  I knew I’d most likely opened myself up to an all-out prank war, but it was worth it.

  So far, Grant hadn’t struck back. The only time he’d spoken to me after dodgeball was in chemistry. I had a feeling he was definitely plotting something. But after today it wouldn’t really matter.

  Coach was posting the official roster that would announce our permanent positions. So technically my truce with Grant to let the best player win would be over.

  I had every confidence that I would win the starting position over Grant if Coach was basing his decision purely on performance, but that didn’t stop me from being a ball of nerves most of the day.

  Though I’d given my all at practice the last few weeks and I felt I’d earned a starting spot, I wasn’t foolish enough to think everyone was keen to have a girl on the boys’ team. It was true that students weren’t tagging my locker anymore or trashing me on the Tattler as much. It seemed I was no longer a threat once everyone saw I wasn’t here to destroy the Trojans’ precious baseball reputation.

  Plus, all anyone seemed to be talking about on the Tattler these days was the upcoming Carnival. I’d yet to find a date to, though no thanks to Tyler’s efforts. I spent mor
e time than I cared to admit finding ways to avoid his advances and brush off his futile flirting. It didn’t seem to matter how many times I told him I had a strict no dating teammates policy—the boy was determined.

  I hoped things would change once the season officially kicked off. With any luck, Tyler would be too busy to flirt with me. Plus, Casey assured me the Tattler would thrust the baseball team into the spotlight even more and girls would start fawning over Tyler, giving me a reprieve from his attention. But none of that would matter if I didn’t win the starting spot at shortstop I’d been working so hard for.

  It was all I could think about as I made my way to the practice field after school. No matter how much I felt I deserved the starting position, it would be up to Coach to decide what was best for the team. I knew most of them still saw me as a girl first, athlete second, but that was precisely why starting was so important to me. It would put me one step closer to proving I was every bit an athlete as my male teammates.

  I paused at the entrance to the field and rubbed the team motto for good luck before blowing out a deep breath. “Heads up, hearts strong,” I whispered to myself as I jogged onto the field to await my destiny.

  Grant

  Coach’s whistle summoned us back to the dugout once we’d finished warming up. The normally boisterous benches were still as we sat silently waiting to hear if our hard work over the last few weeks had earned us a coveted starting position in the lineup.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t take another moment of the electrically charged silence, Coach cleared his throat. “Boys . . .” another throat clearing, “and girl,” he added quickly. “I just wanted to say that I’m proud of each and every one of you. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. Baseball is like chess. The board is our season, each play moving us closer to ultimate victory. You each have an equal part to play, no role more important than the other. Sometimes we make sacrifices for the good of the whole. We win and lose together, as a team. I’ve seen some tremendous growth over the past few weeks and we’re really starting to come together out there on the field. If we keep progressing this way, I think we have a real shot at State this year.”