Rounding Third

by Michelle Lynn

  Spencer’s in the truck by the time I climb into the driver’s side.

  “That was awkward,” he says when I turn the key in the ignition.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him solemn.”

  “Yeah.”

  We drive over to his dorm, and Brax was right. Parking is insane. There are cars on the lawn with parents hauling suitcases and bins into the small dormitory. I’m positive that Spencer wishes our mom and dad were here instead of me.

  “Let’s get this over with.” He opens the door and slams it shut.

  Guess I’m right.

  Chapter Two

  Ella

  “What a fucktard,” Jen, my roommate, says after we walk out of Pi Kappa, my boyfriend’s fraternity.

  “He’s busy.” I stick up for Liam, like usual.

  She only rolls her eyes, trying to be discreet.

  “He wants to make the grades, ace the test, and get into medical school.”

  “May I remind you that you’re a pre-med major, too?”

  I nod. It’s the same discussion we have each time Liam ditches me and goes upstairs during one of Pi’s big parties. Keeping my mouth shut, so as not to give Jen more ammunition against Liam, I don’t divulge that tonight bugged me more than usual. We haven’t been in school a day yet, and he’s holed himself upstairs, claiming to be ahead of the game on the MCATs. One night wouldn’t have killed him.

  “Come on.” Jen hip-bumps me, and her pissed off look has transformed to a fun-loving, ready-for-anything one. “Didn’t you say that Brax called?”

  Now, I roll my eyes.

  Brax, my one high school friend who attends Ridgemont, has called me no less than ten times in the past two days, requesting my presence at a party. Not that the reigning division champs’ baseball team doesn’t usually host a great party, but Pi had theirs. I guess Liam made my choice by leaving me stranded with his handsy frat brothers.

  “I’m not in the mood for the baseball players,” I tell her, hoping she’ll turn us right toward our apartment. “I’ll let you pick the movie, and ice cream is on me.”

  I smile wide, but she shakes her head.

  “Nope.” She links her arm through mine and swings us left, toward The Ballpark, as the boys refer to their house.

  “Come on,” I whine, dragging my feet.

  “Ella Keaton, that lame-ass boyfriend of yours needs to be jealous. The baseball boys and their Instagram accounts will accomplish just that.”

  I groan at her childish tactics while thinking the idea sounds plausible. Jealousy might make Liam show some sort of affection, other than an occasional quick screw between organic chemistry and genetics.

  I swear, The Ballpark resembles the movie Animal House. Frat houses can’t come close to comparing to their parties. The city police turn their heads because God forbid a player is suspended. Might as well let them poison themselves with alcohol or fuck until their dicks fall off. The latter could possibly happen to Brax. The man has no respect for the female population. I can’t hold it against him though. Each one of us has dealt with our past in different ways. His way was to forget, mine was therapy, and Crosby…well, Crosby’s solution was to disappear.

  Loud music pumps out of the open windows, and groups hang around the deck, sipping from their Solo cups.

  Jen practically drags me up the stairs as I stop on every step as we inch closer. Jen doesn’t willingly leave parties, and I can’t leave her, so I suspect I’m in for a long night on the raggedy couch until she finishes with her guy of the night.

  Jen’s hand is on the doorknob when one of Brax’s friends screams through the window, “Brax, Ella’s here!”

  He turns to me, shoving the long strands of hair away from his eyes, and winks.

  Confused, I look over to Jen because I had no idea the kid knew me. I’m barely here, and God knows I haven’t attended a baseball game since my senior year in high school. Unfortunately, that will change this year due to my new internship with the sports physicians.

  The door swings open, and a panting shirtless Brax blocks our way.

  “Ew, spare us,” Jen remarks on his clearly just-fucked appearance. “Zip it up, dude.” She points to his open fly.

  Brax is hot. His sandy-blond hair, shaved close to his head, only brings out his icy-blue eyes. After a summer of working landscaping, his skin is tan, and now, it’s glistening.

  “Like you don’t want what she had.” He concentrates on Jen, flinging his head in the direction of the staircase to the disheveled blonde chomping at the bit for more.

  “Tell her to button her shirt,” I whisper, sliding by him through the doorway.

  He sidesteps and blocks me. “Whoa, El.” He holds his hands up in the air.

  “What is this?” Jen automatically grows defensive. No isn’t a word in her dictionary.

  He eyes her and then looks back at me. There’s something working in those blue hues, but I don’t know what.

  “You don’t want to hang around a bunch of horny baseball players tonight,” he says.

  I draw back in surprise. “If you didn’t want us to come, why’d you call me so many times and then list the reasons I should come tonight?” I hold my hand up to count off the reasons he’s told me. “You tell me my boyfriend’s a douche, that I never get out, that I need a good fuck by one of your friends.”

  He laughs. “Well, true, true, and damn true because no one fucks like my boys.”

  “How do you know?” Jen interrupts again.

  I snicker.

  “From the girls who come in droves. You should try us sometime. Your long list would pale in comparison.”

  “Hehe. Funny, asshole. Now, I need a beer to continue my buzz, so let us in.”

  This is one time I agree with Jen.

  “What’s the holdup?” I ask.

  He turns to search the party and then swings his head back my way. “Isn’t Pi Kappa having a party?”

  My patience is at max level when I cross my arms over my breasts. “Brax, what gives? Why are you shunning us? My guess is”—I glance to the blonde on the steps, who is in no hurry to button up her shirt—“you were in the middle of something before you were interrupted by someone telling you I was here. I don’t need you to chaperone me. I’m a big girl.”

  He inhales a long, deep breath and looks down at me, as though we were telepathic and I should understand what his eyes are conveying.

  “What, Brax?” I scream over the loud music.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles. He steps aside, allowing us into the party. “Hey, man, she’s here!” he yells into the house.

  “Finally,” Jen drones.

  As a sea of women disperse, a tall figure stands, and my heart hammers against my chest wall, like I’m standing on a wire, high in the sky, between two skyscrapers.

  “Cinderella,” he says, his voice shallow, but sure of himself.

  “Don’t call me that,” I respond, my feet frozen in place.

  “Who is that?” Jen asks from behind me.

  “That is Ella’s first love, Crosby Lynch.”

  “I thought Liam was her first boyfriend?” Jen questions, her voice slowly fading to background noise.

  Crosby breaks the small distance between us, and I swallow the large lump in my throat. My body screams for me to run or to pinch myself out of this dream, but his eyes still mesmerize me into submission.

  “No, she and Crosby are destined.”

  I hold my hand up in the air to stop Brax from rehashing history.

  Crosby is still breathtakingly gorgeous. His dark hair is shorter and messy, and those hazel eyes still hold a glint of the devil in them. The cocky smile plastered on his face as he shoves his hands in his pockets, almost has me jumping in his arms and thanking him for coming back for me. But one question overrides my body.

  “How long are you here?” I ask, bitterness lacing my voice.

  He tilts his head. “Until graduation.” He glances to Brax. “My guess anyway.”
<
br />   That cocky smile grows as the lump in my throat shrinks.

  Quickly, the room starts spinning, and my breathing becomes more labored. He’s the new baseball player I heard Coach Lipton talking about.

  “Oh my God.” My hand lies over my heart, and I close my eyes, trying to find my bearings, but the room continues to spin.

  “Get her to the damn couch, Boy Dreamy!” Jen hollers.

  Crosby grabs my elbow. His touch is so warm, so comforting, so safe. He guides me to the couch, but instead of setting me down, he places me on his lap. My eyes float around the room. Girls’ eyes are now glowering at me, Brax’s eyes are studying me, and Jen’s eyes show her pure ignorance to how serious tonight just became. As my eyes circle back to Crosby, I see he’s smiling again, his thumb brushing along my hip bone, as though we’d warped back to our senior year of high school.

  “You okay?” he asks, his voice snapping me out of the haze.

  I fall from my abrupt movement to flee from his lap, but spring up to my feet. “I’m fine. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ramble, fiddling with my hands while tapping my toes. “I mean, you’re here. In Ridgemont. Playing baseball and living in this house.” My vision shoots to Brax. “With Brax. Why would I not be okay?”

  I look over to Jen, who’s finding way too much amusement in my predicament.

  “Man, whoever you are, you’ve unglued Miss Perfect, and I love it.” She smiles wide at Crosby and then places her hand out in front of him. “I’m Jen, this crazy girl’s roommate.”

  Crosby takes her hand. “I’m Crosby, perfect girl’s soon-to-be boyfriend.” He shakes her hand, his eyes on me.

  “Ha. I love it. You are perfect for her.”

  She turns to me as I swallow down my anxiety, glaring at a still shirtless Brax. Maybe he could have been more specific at the door. Then again, who am I kidding. I’d give up my envied internship for a chance to see Crosby.

  “You need to dump the fucktard and take this man up on his offer.” She thumbs toward Crosby.

  I throw my hands up in the air.

  “You have a boyfriend?” Crosby’s voice is low and has lost the confidence it held moments ago.

  My fidgeting stops, and our eyes lock. Hurt floods out of his eyes and most likely mine as well.

  “I need a drink.” I spin around, knocking into a dancing couple. I straighten myself and determinedly head toward the kitchen.

  “A boyfriend?” His deep voice rings out above the music.

  I grab a cup and start filling it up with beer.

  The room quiets, and all eyes are on him. It’s like déjà vu. Eyes have always lingered on Crosby, his whole life, when he was the star baseball player in high school and even when he wasn’t. His charismatic personality mixed with his talent give him a presence in any room.

  The damn tap is only pouring foam, and in frustration, I smack it on the pile of ice, dumping the Solo cup on top of it.

  His strong hand picks up the cup, and he grabs the spout. The muscles in his forearm flex while he’s pumping the tap. Unable to gain the composure I need to look at him, I stare down at his hand pouring me the perfect beer.

  Our fingers brush in the exchange of the cup, and my whole body tingles, aware that my first love is back. Needing to brace myself, I lean against the wall, acting nonchalant by bringing the cup to my lips.

  Even if this isn’t my typical college night, I sure as hell need to act like I’m not facing the only guy to make my heart ricochet against my chest wall.

  “I’m sorry. I have no right to be angry,” he says, standing to my right with his back to the wall.

  “You left me,” I whisper, relieved that the noise level has picked back up. I’m not even sure I want him to hear my admission.

  His arm is no longer pressed to my shoulder, and I calculate he’s moving. Then, his shoes come into my view of the floor.

  “What are you talking about? We left each other. That was the point.” He rolls back on his heels.

  “You’re right. That was the point. Why are you here?” We made a pact, an agreement, that we would not contact one another.

  “Can we please go somewhere else to talk?” he whispers back.

  His hand reaches out, and I sway forward. My body heats up, the closer his hand grows to my cheek. He’s a millimeter away when he retracts, only igniting a burning in my flesh for his touch.

  “Yeah.”

  He nods his head in the direction of the living room but says nothing. When he heads toward the staircase, I stop walking.

  “Not upstairs.”

  He halts on the first step and peers around to find somewhere else. There are bodies everywhere, each corner already occupied with a couple or a cluster of girls. The house is not an option, and I wish the hope of being alone with him wasn’t so prevalent.

  “Walk?” he asks.

  I nod and down my beer, needing something to numb the pain in my body.

  As we leave the baseball house, the situation is eerily similar to two years ago—when we intentionally hurt each other.

  Chapter Three

  Crosby

  My body is so responsive to Ella’s presence. I forgot how much she affected my normal rhythm. My breathing is staggered, my heart is thumping, and my palms are sweating. The same perfume is intoxicating me, as I stagger to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Why are you here, Crosby?” Ella’s voice pulls me back to our conversation. A conversation I’ve prepared myself for.

  “They offered me a spot on the team. Third base.” I shove my hands in my pockets to stop the urge to grab hers.

  “So, you took over Mike’s spot? I knew they brought someone in, but no one told me a name.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I help out the team physician as an internship. This is my first year.”

  “Oh.” I wish jealousy wasn’t my first reaction at hearing that she’s around the guys all the time. It’s a reminder that she’s not mine. The thought of her with sweaty, horny baseball players doesn’t slow my wildly beating heart.

  “I’m pre-med.”

  I nod, assured that nothing kept her from pursuing her dream.

  The sound of chirping crickets ring around us, and every fourth step, her shoulder brushes my arm, igniting a hot current to run through my veins. After two years, I never assumed the instinct to reach for her hand or splay my hand on her lower back would burn strong.

  “Crosby, why are you here?”

  “I told you, I got a spot.”

  “You knew I was here.” She stops walking, and her eyes squarely pierce me. “We made an agreement that we’d move on with our lives.”

  Wetness pools in her eyes, and I imagine she’s thinking back to the worst night of our lives. Well, second worst.

  “I want my life back. This was my chance to play in Division One with the hopes of being drafted. ”

  “And what exactly did you expect would happen between us?”

  A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach out to wipe it away. She backs up a step, but my palm remains planted on her cheek as I match her back step. Her skin is as silky soft as I remember.

  “I have a boyfriend. My life is more than you now, Crosby.” Her voice is etched with anger.

  I’m not sure what I expected her reaction to be. It’s the reason I was hell-bent on Brax not letting her come to the party tonight. I wasn’t ready to see her yet. Not without a plan.

  "I’m not sure." I clear my throat. "You having a boyfriend kind of crushed that dream."

  "What did you think? That you’d show up with me curled in the fetal position, crying and waiting for your return?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “No. All I ever want for you is to be happy, El. I’m just conceited enough to know that I’m your happy.”

  She scowls.

  “Don’t deflect with the humor.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t a psychology major?”

  She huffs, and swivels on her feet t
o leave.

  I reach out to her, grabbing her arm. The need to have her in my life again burning too strong, I relent on the topic of us as a couple.

  “Friends?”

  “Friends?” she questions, knowing there’s no way for us to be just friends. Anyone within a twenty-mile radius can feel our energy.

  “Get to know each other again,” I clarify.

  She tilts her head to the side, raising her eyebrows. “You forget I’ve known you since you were five. Those devilish eyes still show when you have something up your sleeve.”

  She points to me, and I try to taper down my smile from remembering us together. We were good.

  “Nothing.” I hold up my hands. “I swear”—I make a cross on my chest—“friends.”

  She stares at me for a few beats longer than normal, and I hold her eyes, hoping she sees the ache my body endures for her. If I’m correct and I can still read her like a compass, I take up a big part of her heart as well.

  She blinks, and I assume our moment is over, but she rushes into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. Sobs begin racking her body, and it dawns on me that she’s been putting up a front. Our connection is too powerful to ever fizzle.

  “Shh…” I mumble, my hand rubbing along her back.

  Her body nuzzled into mine transports me back to the good times. The way her head easily fits under my chin, giving me easy access to kiss the top of her head.

  “I feared I’d never see you again. I’d heard rumors, but I figured no one really knew where you were,” she says quietly.

  My head lifts unconsciously, my lips about to press on the soft, citrus scented strands of her hair, but I fall short when she steps back.

  Wiping the dark streaks of mascara smearing down her cheeks. “Look at you.” Her hand reaches over and touches my bicep. “You’re healthy, and strong.”

  The first smile breaks her lips, and my whole body heats with want.

  “You look good, too. Beautiful.”

  She shakes her head, dismissing my compliment.

  Stepping closer, I press on, “Gorgeous.”