“You get Thai food, and I’ll eat bean sprouts.” She’s always on a diet these days, especially now that she’s in the SAB program.
“Fine, cutie. You want to go anywhere tonight?” It’s Friday, the end of her week, and luckily I have the weekend off, a rare occasion but we like to take full advantage. Plus, I already have something up my sleeve.
“Mmm, whatever you think, sweetheart.” She nuzzles in, waiting for the two more stops it takes to get to our apartment.
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, scratching her bare arm gently with the blunt tip of my finger. Goose bumps appear, and she grabs on tighter. My heart soars, all the tension and pressure I was feeling when I boarded the subway sliding off my shoulders.
Metal screeches on metal, and the car rumbles to a stop, the doors sliding open and the announcer warning to stay clear of them when they close. We hurry off, hand in hand through the dirty tunnels of New York. We bound up the steps in fear of being trampled by the bustling, hustling traffic in front and behind us. While I love most things about this city, all the busy people isn’t one of them sometimes. I really am a down home, North Carolina boy at night.
Chloe, however, she thrives here. And because she thrives, so do I.
We break the surface to the outside world, the warm September air winding around us. The setting sun casting magnificent rays over all the glass and brick buildings. With my hand still in Chloe’s, I lead us up the street, making small talk about our next few weeks. We pass a row of nice brownstones and daydream about what we’ll do when we have one of our own.
Walking the couple of blocks to our place, we finally arrive at our brown brick building, not too shabby but not a palace either. With my signing bonus and the money her parents supply her every month, Chloe and I rent a little one bedroom.
We scale the steps of our walkup and unlock the six locks on our white front door. I push it open, ushering Chloe inside the bright living room that she painted a sunny yellow last month when we moved in.
She sets her bag down on the bench we bought at Ikea, and I survey our place. White overstuffed couches, our tiny, but clean kitchen, the art prints Chloe found at a festival in Brooklyn. It might not be the Farriston estate, but it’s our home. Mine and Chloe’s. I’ve never felt more at ease in a space ever.
“I’m going to take a quick shower, babe. You want to join me?” She grabs the doorframe, swinging lightly back and forth. The smile ghosting her lips makes me itch to be in there with her, no barriers between us. But I have a plan to stick to.
“I’m going to call in the food. Hurry up, princess.”
I hear the water start and pull my phone out. After two rings, he picks up. “You have everything set, man?”
I get the confirmation and hang up to change. Pulling on a polo and khaki shorts, I slide my feet into boat shoes. Maybe it’s too preppy, but I’m a rich kid from North Carolina, shoot me.
The blow dryer begins to whir in the bathroom, and I glance around, pulling the red Cartier box out of my drawer and shoving it in my pocket. A few minutes later, Chloe walks in with her white fluffy towel wrapped around her, her hair dry and floating around her slim, tan shoulders.
She drops it, baring her beautiful, naked skin to me, and my dick jumps, hating that it’s trapped in my pants. Focus, boy, we have more important tasks.
“What should I wear?”
“Something casual. Maybe that red dress. I love that one.”
She dons the red sundress, the gauzy material floating around her thighs.
“Ready?”
We walk down and out onto the street again, passing people on their way home from work, out to meet friends, running for their evening workout. This really is the city that never sleeps.
“Where are we going?” She gives me a curious look as we turn into Central Park. The sun has almost set, shading the sky the same purple as her gorgeous eyes.
I just smirk, taking her along with me, walking leisurely through the green oasis in the middle of the city. And then, it’s there. In the middle of the clearing, a sparkling, twinkling Ferris wheel.
“Miles …” She gasps, her hand squeezing mine. “Wh-what is this?”
“Ours for the night. Come on.”
I nod at the operator who I called before, and help Chloe up onto the seat, joining her and strapping us in. He starts the wheel, propelling us slowly up past the trees of the park, the buildings of New York City coming into view.
“What is all this?” I can hear the emotion clogging Chloe’s throat.
I take a deep breath as the car stops at the top. My whole body is shaking on the inside. I hope sweat isn’t dripping from my brow. “Baby, I love you. And the last time we were on a ride like this, I didn’t appreciate just how special you are.”
I take both of Chloe’s hands in mine, staring into her deep indigo eyes. I can barely speak my heart is so heavy with love for her. “You deserve a do-over from me. I want this to be everything you thought that first night should be. I love you, Chloe Trabucco. I love your kindness, your positivity. You shine a glow on everyone and everything around you. You saved me from myself.”
I don’t think Chloe is breathing at this point, and I can see the tears welling in her lower lids.
“I want to shine with you. I want to save you, forever. For the rest of our lives. I want to be the prince to your princess.”
I pull the ring box out of my pocket and hold it up, offering it to her. She grabs it with shaking hands, staring at me with such questions in her beautiful face. Flicking it open, she lets out a small sob when the princess cut halo diamond ring sparkles in front of her face.
“Chloe, I’m in love with you. And I know we are young, and we don’t have to rush this, but I know you are it for me. You have known it’s been me for years. I want to prove to you that I will choose you for the next hundred years. Marry me? Marry me and live your life with me.”
I exhale, anxiety and jitters knotting my stomach. Chloe is weeping now, tears trailing down her face.
“Say something, baby.” I palm her cheeks, waiting for her answer.
“Yes.” She barely whispers it, and I attack her, fusing my lips to hers, coaxing her lips and drawing out her soft sobs as we smile and try to catch our breath. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” she chants it again and again.
I take the ring out, placing it on her slim finger. It looks perfect, just like her. We admire it, watching the way the diamond catches the light of the twinkling wheel.
“And the white knight gets the princess once again …”
Chloe laughs, and I wipe the tears of joy off her cheeks with my thumb. She kisses me, and I know that I am the downright luckiest man on the face of the earth. Take that, Lou Gehrig.
Catching to Win
Over the Fence, Book Three
Prologue
Clint
Two Years Ago
You know that moment when a hot girl sweeps her eyes up your body, each of your muscles instinctively flexing as she focuses on the sections of your brawny strength. That heat in her eyes and you just know that she’s wondering what you’ll be like in bed. If you’ll be able to hold her down, pin her up against a wall?
Yeah, I know what that looks like too. Because I see every girl at Grover University give that look to my teammates every night we go out. But never me.
Hi, I’m Clint Bellows, and I’m the fat friend.
Sure, every group has one. But what no one tells you is that if you are the fat friend, life fucking sucks. Good thing I’m also used to it.
I’ve been the big guy, the teddy bear, for as long as I can remember. I’d never been a small kid—always a couple pounds too heavy, a little bit too large for each grade I entered.
I resigned myself to being passed over, to having to suck in my stomach each time an attractive girl looks my way, hoping she’ll overlook the extra weight and come up and talk to me. I heard the whispers from the girls who came back to the house with my friend
s, “I just wish their roommate was hotter so that one of us could hook up with him.”
I endured the stares and criticism of other college coaches when I’d gone to try out for their baseball teams while I was in high school. One coach actually told me I would never play for him unless I got rid of the gut.
So I hid. I used my weight, my shame, to hide from the world. Insecurities rule my life, usually keeping me from going to parties, doing normal things a twenty-one-year-old would do. Especially, things guys do with girls.
It’s never been the hugest deal, just the ugly dark cloud hanging out in the background, tainting the picture but never fully ruining it. Until tonight.
Tonight. When Owen Axel, my best friend, brought his girlfriend Minka Braxton to visit, she brought her two friends. And one of them just happens to be the girl of my dreams.
Or so I think she is, not that I’ve gotten the nerve to go up and talk to her.
But when Kelsey O’Brien walked onto my porch this afternoon, it had taken all of my willpower not to drool like a hungry dog. She’s fucking perfect. Small and full of life, like a beautiful fairy. Like the one Liv Tyler played in Lord of the Rings. Except smaller, which makes her so much hotter. Something about knowing I can tower over her if we’re toe to toe makes my cock twitch with lustful anticipation.
She has that halo of fiery red hair twirling around her foxlike features. Her pointy ears, narrow nose, and slanting, mysterious amber eyes. Her expression is cunning, like she has some devilish idea on her mind. Jesus, she makes me gulp so hard I think my Adam’s apple might end up in my stomach.
But, of course, Kelsey looked straight through me.
I saw her eyes slide right over me to Parker, his muscled, tatted torso on full display. Dammit, I thought I would get over it, just move on from yet another rejection or pass over. But this one niggled at me all day. I can’t get her out of my head. That megawatt, troublesome grin she plastered on her face as we said hello wouldn’t stop playing over and over in my brain.
For the first time in my life, I wish I looked different. Of course, I had that thought before … if I could just be more in shape; if I just had muscles; if I had more confidence. But this time I feel it down to my bones. A pit of deep sadness sits in my stomach because if I can just look like Parker or some other cool looking dude, she would have noticed me.
I would have been the one she was dancing with right now, out on the deck at her first college party. She might even come back to my bed, let me kiss her and strip off those clothes which were already leaving little to the imagination. My cock goes rigid in my boxers.
This is how it has always been. Clint, the invisible big guy. Friendly, pretty cool, but not hot enough to actually date. Or fuck. Or anything.
Shame, hurt, and dejection crawl up my throat until the point of nausea. I didn’t even realize Owen’s girlfriend had come out to stand beside me.
“Hey, Owen’s girl.” I grin, but she scowls at me. Shit, I think I just offended her. “Sorry, I know, your name is Minka. Anyways … is your friend, the pretty, short one, single?”
She eyes me and I see it instantly. She’s assessing whether Kelsey would ever date me, and by the sympathetic look in her eyes, I’m guessing it’s a no.
“Kelsey, yeah she is. But that’s of her own doing. Word of advice? Don’t try it. She doesn’t do boyfriends. Or friends that are boys for that matter.”
Okay. Okay … I can work with that. I’ll get her to be my friend first. I’ll be the first guy to do that. Minka walks away with concern marring her face.
A plan begins to formulate in my head. This time will be different. I can change, sure it will be hard and it will take a while. But, eventually, I’ll mold my muscles and shape my body into a masterpiece that Kelsey can’t ignore.
At the same time, I’ll befriend her. I’ll become her go-to guy, the one she can count on. I’ll make her laugh, get to see her smile. This way she’ll know me well before I really go after her.
Because I intended to catch her. To make my face be the one she sees when she closes her eyes. To make her think about me as much as I’m already thinking about her, and I’ve only just laid eyes on her four hours ago.
This time I will get the girl. Because she isn’t just any girl, this is the girl that will change my life. I feel in my bones.
I’ve had everyone, especially women, pass me over for too long. I took it lying down. Not anymore. It’s time to stand up, buff up, and show Kelsey O’Brien exactly why I am the only man for her.
1
Clint
What. The. Fuck? Does she have to stick her tongue down this dude’s throat right in front of me?
I grumble as I watch her. She’s leaning against some doofus against the crappy wall of my college house. I turn away, averting my eyes to get some relief for my heart, which now feels like it’s being stuck like my mammy’s pincushion.
Lifting the light beer to my mouth, I grimace as it passes my lips. This amber-colored crap tastes like watered down piss, but I’m not going to blow all of my work in the gym this afternoon on her mouth fucking some guy. I might as well just start taking shots of whiskey to get myself drunk enough to endure this. At least with that, I won’t give myself a gut.
I’ve been putting myself through this for a month. Watching Kelsey O’Brien get sloppy drunk, standing on tables to dance and then pimp herself out to these random losers by the end of the night. And then inevitably use one of the two open bedrooms in our house. It was like, with every party, my insides were being ripped open with a rusty saw. I don’t know how much more I can take.
I walk to the other side of our deck which is jam-packed with people I go to school with. Everyone seems to be staying at school for the summer, and our house is the place to be with playoff season heating up. We won our region and are headed to super regionals next week. Lord knows how we won, with Miles Farriston, one of my best friends, leaving the team just before playoffs to take a great minor league offer. But I understand, he has to chase his dream and his girl, Chloe Trabucco, who is also chasing her dream of being the world’s best ballerina. He had to go. I’m just worried about us. The team. If we’re going to win a College World Series, this is the year. Everyone is going to have to buckle down and try to make up for the loss we feel with Miles not being on the field.
“What’s up, buddy?” Owen Axel, my other best friend and star pitcher on the team walks up to me where I stand at the deck railing, facing away from everyone at the party.
I shrug. “Not much, man. Kind of tired of this shit, ya know?”
His shit-eating grin tells me that he’s not. Owen is a chameleon. He has the perfect girl, the perfect throwing arm, the perfect life really. He fits in anywhere, is always the center of attention and is like, genuinely nice. The life of the party but also the guy who is there for everyone offering support and encouragement.
When he noticed I was trying to get in better shape and drop some LBs, he didn’t say anything, but he would stay and do extra workouts with me, or one day I noticed the fridge was wiped clean of all junk food and replaced with a bunch of healthy shit. Yeah, Owen is just that kind of guy.
“I don’t know. Guess I’m just not feeling it tonight,” I answer his silence, slanting my eyes over to Kelsey, who’s now almost straddling this prick on my deck.
“Or maybe you’re just feeling something else, Bellows.” Owen takes a sip of his beer, running his hand through his wavy brown hair. As if it isn’t bad enough that he’s perfect, all the girls think he looks like some model on the cover of a romance novel.
I rub my flat abs, trying hard not to rub the grooves that are now etched into my stomach. I’m not obsessed with my body or anything, don’t flaunt it like half the guys I play with on the team. But I am fascinated by my new muscles, how different I feel in my own skin. It’s both good and weird. Like I am living an out-of-body experience. Things that used to take a mountain of effort to do, like getting upstairs, or even hefting myself off
the couch, are now easier than pie.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug, trying to act like I don’t give a shit.
“If it bothers you so much, why do you let her stay here?” Owen ignores my nonchalant brush off and keeps at the Kelsey line of questioning. “Or better yet, why don’t you just go get what you want, dude?”
Typical guy in a relationship. Thinking shit is so easy. Doesn’t he remember what it was like to win Minka Braxton, the love of his life, over? On second thought, it was easy for him. He enjoyed the challenge. Owen has all the confidence in the world. Me? I think a fucking gnat has more game than I do.
“She’s my friend, man. That’s all. My best friend. Plus, Kelsey doesn’t do boyfriends. Remember?”
I gaze across the deck at her, all those petite curves being pawed by some doucheclown. Her tiny waist swathed in one of her flowing, hippie skirts that falls to the wooden deck, hiding her round, voluptuous ass and those shapely legs. More than a slice of her porcelain skin is left exposed by the tiny crop top she wears. I can practically taste the smattering of freckles on her shoulders, put there by the summer sun. What I would give to run my tongue over them. She has them on her nose too. I love her button nose set against the sharp angles of her cheeks. The hazel eyes framed by all of those lashes that she loves to blink up at me, causing my cock to go rigid. Her auburn hair cut short so that it just skims her sexy collarbone. I wish I could put my lips there and drag them across her flesh until she was gasping for air. Her perfect tits sit perkily below that sexy bone, a handful each. I have to ball my hands into fists to restrain myself from testing out that theory.
It’s everything. Everything about her drives me crazy. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on this girl that I was ruined. It’s like the heavens made her for me. And then she opened her mouth and that spunky personality came out, and I was a goner.
Over the Fence Box Set Page 41