Tamed V

by Anna

  I’m too chicken to say it so I cover her mouth with mine as she comes, riding the wave of her orgasm. I feel the aftershocks running through her body and she tightens around me as I come for the second time.

  I roll to the mattress and pull her close. She nuzzles my neck and says, “Thank you. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

  Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I close my eyes, exhausted from the day, the game and two rounds of lovemaking. I drift to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Kissing her on the cheek, I slip out the door early the next day before Hollis wakes. It’s barely light out but I see John in the kitchen window. My father would do the same thing after coming back from tour. His schedule would be off and he’d sleep here and there until his body caught up with the clock.

  I duck down until he moves out of sight. Feeling like a douche for sleeping with his sister. But we’re both adults and I doubt he hasn’t figured out something is up.

  At home, everyone is still in bed. I pause at the coffee pot for my mother whose alarm should go off at any moment, but realize she’s already set it. Two lunch bags sit on the counter, made the night before, ready for camp. As much as I hate to admit it, my mother seems to have come out of her funk.

  Maybe we all have.

  I head to my room, kicking off my shoes and pulling off my shirt. I climb into bed and crash, content and finally at ease.

  *

  I stumble into work the next day around noon.

  “Where have you been?” Adrian asks. He’s inventorying the equipment now that the season is over. We were supposed to meet here at nine. Yesterday.

  “Sorry, I crashed.”

  “At Hollis’?”

  “No,” I say. He shoots me a bullshit face. “Seriously. I was there yesterday but her brother is back in town and I’m giving them some time together.”

  Plus she hadn’t called.

  But I didn’t call her either because something about the other night scared me. The way I felt. Hollis gives herself to you whole-heartedly but at the same time, she isn’t yours to take. I know I’m falling too hard. I also know she doesn’t feel the same way.

  He hands me a stack of papers and we work together quietly. After a while he says, “So how long has that been going on?”

  “A while,” I say without looking up.

  “When I asked her out?”

  I shake my head. “No. After—I promise.”

  Adrian stares at me for a minute until I finally drop my pen and ask, “What?”

  “What’s she like?” His face is red. As it should be.

  “You know I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Not like specifics,” he says. “What’s she really like. I never broke through the surface.”

  I think about Hollis and her tattoos and the way she enjoys sex—so generously, so enthusiastically. The way she took care of Felix. Her wanderlust. She had an energy that I felt like I only had an opportunity to see the faintest glimpse.

  “She’s amazing,” I say. “She’s way bigger than me and this town.”

  “So you think she’ll leave?”

  I nod and speak around the lump in my throat. “She may already be gone.”

  *

  That afternoon I find Joe sitting on the front step. He looks angry and pissed. I take a deep breath and sit next to him.

  “So…” I prompt, folding my arms over my knees.

  “Lindsay’s gone to camp for the rest of the summer.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah.”

  We sit and watch the cars go by and I want to tell him I know how it feels. I’m about to get up because he doesn’t seem like he wants to talk and he says, “We did it before she left.”

  “It?” I raise an eyebrow. I can’t be shocked. He’s sixteen. I lost my virginity at the same age. I can’t help but rib him a little.

  He punches me in the arm. I pretend it hurts. “Yeah. It.”

  “You were safe?”

  “Yes. We were both, you know…virgins.”

  “Contrary to popular legend, virgins can get pregnant.”

  “Yes. We were safe,” he mumbles. “We used a condom. And she’s on the pill.”

  I try to think of something else but nothing comes. “Well…huh.”

  “What?”

  “I’m trying to decide what Dad would say here,” I confess.

  Joe frowns. “You don’t have to take his place, you know.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are—and I get it. You feel like you have to, but it’s okay if you’re just my older brother. I need that, too,” he says. “Especially now.”

  His words hit me like a blow. He’s right. By acting like Dad, I’ve forgotten how to act like an older brother. I think about it for a minute. “How was it?”

  “What?”

  I roll my eyes. “The sex. Good? Bad?” I make a face. “Totally bad, right?”

  His whole face is red, up to the tip of his ears. “Horrible. Awkward. But…”

  “But?”

  “Fucking awesome.”

  We both laugh because sex is awesome but still can be awkward and horrible. I keep him on the step and tell him all the things an older brother and dad should. How to be safe. How to be careful and a girl should be respected—even when that girl doesn’t seem to want respect.

  “Lindsay made the first move, I swear.”

  “Sometimes girls do,” I tell him. “A lot of the time, but don’t tell anyone anything. You know that saying, never kiss and tell? Well it’s true. It makes you look like a douchebag. The guy really having sex is the one that never talks about it.”

  “Really?” he asks.

  “Yep. The girls know it, too, and they’ll be more willing to take a risk with you if the opportunity arises. Nobody likes a blabber mouth.”

  “Huh,” he says as though I’ve just explained one of the mysteries of the world. “What do I do now that she’s gone? What if she meets someone else at camp?”

  “Did you talk about anything before she left?”

  “We agreed to write. It’s only for a couple of weeks but this other girl, Michelle, she’s been calling me,” he confesses.

  I sigh and settle back on the step. Obviously this talk is going to last a while.

  Chapter 8

  I’d always thought my final game in Columbus would be just before I left for the majors. I figured it would be my high school game—the state championship. That came and went plus another year and here I am really playing my final game and it’s for a men’s rec league.

  No one else knows I’m leaving, that I’m taking the coaching job in Atlanta, but the stands are full anyway. Crowds of people squeezed together on a warm, muggy Georgia night.

  I’ve realized the family can handle being on their own. In fact, part of me thinks they’d do better if I moved on and stopped taking up so much space. It’s only two hours away.

  Then there’s Hollis.

  I don’t want to live here without her and I know she’s going to bail soon. I can feel it. We haven’t talked much since the other night but in her silence I can feel a wall building. I can either let her go, or see if she’ll run with me.

  I have this plan—a crazy one, where I’m going to ask her to go with me to the city. She’s never lived in Atlanta either and maybe we can make a go of it on our own. Even if it’s just for a little while—I know in my heart I can’t have her longer than that.

  We’re up seven to four in the seventh inning. We’ve got two men on base and two outs as I walk to home plate for my turn at bat. I glance up in the stands and see her up there, dark hair pulled away from her face. She gives me a smile and I kick the dirt a little before planting my feet in the red clay.

  The pitcher takes aim and throws the ball, high. I wait.

  Smack.

  The ball hits the catcher’s mitt with a slap.

  It happens again. The
umpire calls both of them balls. The pitcher winds up and I lift my elbows, sinking into the sound of the buzzing crowd. The ball sails out of his fingers and he and I both know it before it reaches the plate.

  Crack.

  My body reacts from the sound—the connection. I drop the bat and run, but I already know it’s gone. The hit was perfect, right on the sweet spot. The first base coach waves me past and the crowd cheers my name. I follow the two other guys over home plate.

  I swallow back the bittersweet feeling of knowing this may be the last time I make a homerun in my hometown and focus on the win. The guys begin to celebrate--a win is a win even if it’s in a rec league, but I’m already searching the stands. I easily find my family. They’re sitting with Felix and his father, John. Mom waves and Sophie jumps up and down. Joe checks his phone.

  I look for the dark hair. The green eyes. Her perfect red lips.

  My eyes comb the crowd seeking a glimpse of her so I can find her and tell her my plans. Instead I make eye contact with John. From the look on his face finally understand.

  Like that baseball I just slammed over the fence, she’s gone.

  *

  I’m drowning my third beer at the bar when I feel the strong hand on my shoulder. Another ‘congratulations’, I’m sure.

  “Good game, Tucker.” The person sits next to me and orders two more beers. The bartender places one in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, glancing over. It’s John.

  I run both hands over my face and shake my head. I don’t know what this is about, but I just spent the summer fucking this guy’s sister six ways to Sunday and never before has something like that earned me a beer.

  Damn, I must look pathetic.

  “So she’s gone?” I ask, even though it’s not really a question.

  He takes a pull on his beer and nods. His eyes are green like hers, and I look away. “The car was packed before we got to the field. I’m sorry, man.”

  I shake my head like it doesn’t matter but we both know it does. I’ve been leveled by a train I saw coming this whole time. “I knew,” I tell him. “I knew she was leaving. I guess…”

  “Hollis has a mind of her own, Tucker. She is a complete and total free spirit. I’m surprised she made it this long down here.”

  I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

  We drink some more and he tells me about this last tour to Iraq. He hopes it’s the last for a while with the baby on the way, but he and I both know no one takes babies into consideration. I hope he gets to stay, because Hollis sure as hell isn’t coming back to help him.

  “You need a ride?” he asks, helping me off the bar stool.

  Behind him I see Marcy (?) eyeing me from the bar. “Nah, I’ll walk.”

  He nods and his eyes light up. “Oh, she asked me to give you something.”

  I drunkenly lean against the bar while he reaches in his pocket. He pulls out a wrinkled but folded piece of paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know.” He offers me his hand and we shake. “Good luck, Tucker.” He disappears into the crowd at the bar.

  I wait until I’m outside to open the flyer. Marcy brushes past me and unlocks the car door, waiting for me to get inside. It’s dark and I’m wasted and the words on the paper blur in front of me.

  “Dammit Bird,” I curse into the humid night, crushing it in my palm like I had the first time.

  *

  “Be polite,” my mother says. She straightens my tie for the third time and I push her hand away searching for more coffee. It’s freaking early.

  “I will.”

  “And make sure you tell him about how you coached summer camp two years in a row.”

  “Mom, I already have the job. Going up there is just a formality.”

  She sighs and pushes my hair back with her hand. “You can never be too prepared.”

  I walk out to the car and put my duffle bag in the back seat. My meeting starts at ten, but with traffic it may take close to three hours to get there. I’m about to hop in the car when I see Sophie wander out the front door rubbing her eyes.

  “Hey girl,” I say, lowering myself so we’re face to face. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To a meeting.”

  “Do they play baseball this early?”

  “No, and it’s not that kind of meeting. Well, not really. I’m going to a job interview to be a coach.”

  “Where.”

  “Atlanta.”

  “Can we come to your games?”

  I pull her frayed pigtail. “Of course.”

  “Okay,” she says kissing my forehead. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “Good plan,” I laugh. She shuffles back to the house. Mom appears in the doorway once she’s gone in.

  “So everyone seems okay with me leaving.”

  “Everyone wants you to be happy.”

  Everyone, I think, feeling the wrinkled paper in my pocket.

  I kiss her on the cheek and run to the garage. I grab my favorite bat leaning against the wall.

  “Just in case,” I tell her, throwing it in the back. I climb in the jeep and drive to Atlanta.

  *

  The parking lot is about half-full when I get to the stadium. Flying into a parking space, I jerk the jeep to a stop. I check the time.

  “Shit.”

  It’s 9:45 and I’ve barely got time to change, sign in and warm up. I follow the signs through the stadium, and duck into the restroom. After changing, I line up behind the other guys.

  I’m last.

  An older man sits behind the table with a Braves cap on and stack of waivers and paperwork piled in front of him. He hands me mine without looking up and asks, “Name?”

  “Jensen,” I say. “Tucker Jensen.”

  He glances up. “What did you say?”

  “Tucker Jensen.”

  “From Columbus?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hurry up,” he says in a gruff voice. He hands me a numbered sticker to put on my shirt. “You’re late.”

  “Yes, sir,” I repeat. I slap the sticker to my chest and sling my bag over my shoulder I run to the field to join the other players. On the field, I look around the stadium. It’s only five years old and reminds me of Glory Park, but shiny.

  My phone beeps in my bag and I reach to turn it off. The number is local—from Atlanta, and I know it’s the high school looking for me. I know what it means by ditching that meeting. I’ve lost the job.

  No job. No girl.

  I look out at the emerald green grass of the outfield.

  All I’ve got left is this.

  “Thirty-six!” they call and I grab my glove.

  I’m up.

  Chapter 9

  I slide my bat into the rack and bump fists with the other guys in the dugout.

  “Nice hit.”

  “Thanks,” I say, reaching for a bottle of water and drinking half of it.

  “Jensen.” Coach Dismuke calls me over.

  “Yeah?”

  “You dropped your elbow; make sure you keep it up. That would have been a home run.”

  “Got it.”

  He claps me on the back and I move to sit with the rest of the guys. We’re on game twenty-eight out of one-forty-four. So far it’s been the best nine months of my life.

  We win the game 4-2 with two bases scored from my hits. I’m holding my own out here and even though the road can get lonely, I’m not one to be short on company, even if it’s temporary.

  “Looks like your fan club’s here,” Marcus says, pointing across the bar. We have tomorrow off and the coach gives us time to blow some steam while we’re in Durham. Normally we’d be back on the bus by now.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, mildly interested.

  “You want to head over?”

  Marcus likes to be my wingman, pick
ing up the girls that don’t make my cut. I’ve gotten pickier since last summer. No green eyes. No filmy sundresses. There’s a type that follow athletes. They know what they’re getting into and so do I.

  “Sure,” I swallow the rest of my beer and leave the bottle on the bar.

  The bar is filled with coeds, which makes it easier because they travel in packs. Marcus walks up to a group of girls standing at a tall table and whispers to me, “Maybe I can get a threesome going.”

  “Good luck with that,” I laugh. Dirty bastard.

  I smile at a blonde with brilliant blue eyes and a black halter top. Perfect.

  “Hi,” she says, raising some sort of fruity drink to her mouth. I wonder what it tastes like on her lips.

  “I’m Tucker—“ I stop when I feel a cool hand on my arm. I turn and slump back.

  Bird.

  The rest of the room falls away and I stare at her, beautiful as ever.

  “Hey Tucker,” she says, a tiny, guilty smile on her lips.

  I swallow. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been hanging around up here for a while,” she says. She reaches out for an awkward hug and I force myself not to sink into the embrace. “Visiting some friends. John sent me your schedule and I came out to see you.”

  “You saw the game?”

  “Yeah.” She smiles again. “You were great. I’m so proud of you.”

  I’m proud of myself, too, and I know I have her to thank, but she broke my heart into a million pieces and well, ouch.

  “Can we talk?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I say. Marcus looks at me questioningly but I nod to let him know it’s okay.

  We slide into a booth and she sits next to me so we can hear each other over the loud music. She smells like shampoo and flowers and she’s got on a yellow tank top with tiny straps. I can tell she doesn’t have a bra on and that alone makes my heart stutter. There’s no way my body won’t respond to her physically, just looking at her makes me think of sex.

  “So you tried out and made the team?”

  “Yep. I got your message from John. I decided what the hell, you know? There was nothing left for me in Columbus and I didn’t want that coaching job.”