Pitching to Win (Over the Fence #1) (8 page)

J
uly moves
in faster than expected, and with it, responsibilities. June knew I was having too much fun, and spending too much time with a certain beautiful girl, so it decided to end.

Clinics start back up this month, which means I’ll be on the road at least two long weekends out of the next four. Meaning less Minka time. Me, and my dick, are already mourning the loss.

Since the night I brought her dinner, something has shifted. She was now almost all that I thought about, the only person I ever wanted to be with. I’d spent nine and a half of the last 12 days with her, and I was nowhere near bored or tired of hanging out. It was a new sensation for me, one I’m not particularly sure I like since it leads to this horrible “missing-a-limb” feeling whenever I’m not near her.

We’ve texted while I’ve been gone for the past three days, and I’m praising the heavens that I get to see her tonight. As corny as it sounds, I can’t wait to have her back in my arms. I shoot her a text, something I’ve been doing all hours of the day since I left for summer training at my college, Grover University.

Owen: Certain parts of my anatomy can’t wait to get reacquainted with certain parts of your anatomy tonight ;)

When Minka doesn’t respond for a minute or two, I get desperate. This girl, she makes me act like a dog in heat.

Owen: And by that I mean my heart with your heart :)

Minka: Don’t try to save ass now. You meant your penis, douche.

Mmm, there is my girl.

Owen: Oh yeah, that too. And babe, it’s a dick. Or a cock. Or even a boner. The word penis makes me think of this creepy old pediatrician I used to see….

Minka: While I’d love to keep discussing your freudian issues, some of us don’t think about your “dick” nearly as much as you do.

Owen: Noted, she likes me for my superior intellect and not my smoking hot body. I guess that means she doesn’t want me to bury my face between her thighs tonight.

And I’m hard as a rock. We haven’t fucked yet. Or made love, or whatever stupid words girls wanted to use.

I might be a jock, but it didn’t mean I was stupid enough not to notice Minka was definitely a virgin. We’d rounded all of the other bases, and that was just fine with me right now.

But, trust me when I tell you, sliding into third with her was better than any sex I’d ever had. The sounds she made as I lapped up her sweet juices, the blush that seemed to creep all the way down her body as she got close to exploding on my tongue. Damn. I could do that for the rest of my life. No sex required.

Minka: You’re so vulgar, Axel.

She had no idea. I could feel her blushing through the phone. Jesus, she’s cute. And sexy, and funny…and my hard on throbbed at her use of my last name.

“Why the fuck are you smiling like that?”

I look up just fast enough to dodge the batting helmet that Miles has thrown in my direction. Clint Bellows and Parker Avery jog down the dugout steps after him, hauling their sweaty asses onto the bench.

“You lazy fuck. Pitchers always get the long end of the stick. You don’t even have to run wind sprints.” Avery grumbled at me.

Dude was always in a pissy mood. But he was a great fucking outfielder. We put up with his attitude, usually ending up force feeding him alcohol to tolerate him. Parker was like the Hulk, but reverse. Get him drunk and he was the nicest guy on the planet. And also one of the best wingmen. He could snag any guy, no matter their looks, a 10 on the hot-girl scale. Not that I needed his services anymore.

“That’s right sunshine. I just stand up there and look pretty. Oh...and don’t forget, win you national championships.” I pat his cheek.

“Bro, gross. Why’re you sporting a semi?” Clint chokes on the Gatorade he’d just swigged.

“The real question is, why are you looking at my dick?” I wink at him and readjusted myself. Damn baseball pants, you can’t hide anything in these bad boys.

“He’s probably daydreaming about the high school hottie he’s been smashing. Chicks got legs for days,” Miles whistles.

I zip a batting glove at his face, effectively slapping him between his eye and his cheek. “I told you not to talk about my girl like that, Farris.”

“Woah-ho-ho,
his
girl, fellas. Did you hear that? Axel’s got himself a ball and chain. Not to mention an 18-year-old one.” Miles dances around the dugout, mocking me.

“No way man,
you
have a girlfriend?” Clint asks in disbelief.

“Not exactly, dickwads. But if you must know, yeah, I’m spending a lot of time with her.”

“Why does this sound like a goddamn romance novel?” Avery quips.

“She’s not like these groupie chicks you douchebags bring home. She’s smart, and seriously funny. And she could kick any of your scrawny asses. And yeah, she’s got some serious legs,” I give Miles a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah whatever man, I guess thats great. I’m happy for you.” Parker stares out into the field stoically. I can never figure out what’s going on in that guy’s head.

“Alright, weirdo. I don’t know why you guys so are worried about my business, you all had your asses handed to you in batting practice. I can hit better than that, and I’m not even required to.” Being a pitcher means I get special perks, depending on how you look at it. No, I didn’t have to condition as hard, or work on slugging one outta the park, but all of the pressure rested on my shoulders. My performance determined whether we won or lost games.

“Dude it’s July. Our first scrimmage isn’t until the last week of September. I’ll get back to over three hundred in no time,” Miles stands up, juggling a bat between his hands.

Farris is our best hitter; he’s so close to breaking the school record for home runs averaged and he’s only a sophomore.

“Well, just make sure you take us to finals next year and no one will be complaining,” Clint adds, strapping the mass of catcher's equipment to his body. Clint is my catcher, and while he can definitely be accused of skipping his schoolwork, baseball is his field of study. I swear the guy can read my mind
and
keep a hawk-eye on the field like no one I’ve ever seen.

“This is a team sport, idiot. Which means everyone has to play
together
to win. Anything less has your ass on the bench in May.” Avery all but growls.

I know he’s still pissed about our regional championship loss, which took us out of contention for the World Series in June. Last year’s seniors seemed to be more into the hazing and drinking aspects of being a college athlete, while all four of us wanted one thing. A College World Series ring. And maybe an MLB contract on the side.

“This year is our year, gentleman. We will get there,” I promise, feeling confidence swell in my chest. This year would be different, I could feel it.

“Damn right we will. Now hurry up and let’s go through this pitching drill. I got places to be,” Clint heads up the dugout steps and out onto home plate.

I slide my glove onto my head, relishing the familiar feel of the old leather conforming around it.

“Yeah we got places to be, people to bang.” Miles starts thrusting his hips into an invisible girl.

“Don’t let your girlfriend hear that,” I give him a stern look. While Olivia wasn’t high on my list of favorite people, or anywhere on it for that matter, I didn’t approve of cheating. It was the lowest move you could pull.

“Yeah well, she’d have to be around to actually hear. Or care.” Miles sobers as he says this last part.

“Dude, I’m sorry, if you wanna talk—” I start before Miles cut me off, shuttering his eyes and putting the joker mask back on.

“Don’t get all weepy on me bro! Hurry your ass up so I can get to a kickass party, and you can drive home to your high school hottie.” He runs out for a casual toss with Avery while I work with Clint on my knuckleball.

Someday, he’d have to open up to me. I just hoped it wasn’t too late.

“
C
aro
! I didn’t know you’d be home so soon!” I hear my mother screech. Crap. I had been trying to go undetected, but that woman had ears like a bat. And it didn’t help that the gaudy all-marble staircase screeched like the cement of a parking garage anytime you stepped foot on it.

If I keep walking now, she will only keep screaming my nickname, caro, or my dear in Portuguese, up the stairs. So, head hanging, I trudge into the library where she’s perched with a magazine in one hand, green juice in the other. My mom may have retired from the modeling world years ago, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t constantly dieting and staying up to date with her fashion.

“Yeah, I’m just dropping my stuff and grabbing a quick shower before I head out,” I start to inch my way out of the room. I’m wasting precious time, time that I could be using to taste every inch of Minka’s skin. It had been three days, and my need for her had me strung so tight, I can actually feel the kinks in my back at not being able to hold her.

“Excuse me!” She looks up from her magazine and points to her cheek. “I don’t see you all summer, and you can’t even give your poor, lonely mama a kiss when you get home.”

I bend to kiss her cheek, smelling her signature sandalwood perfume. The entire house smells of it. The scent embodies my mother, sophisticated and beautiful, with an underlying hint of wildness and freedom. While she isn’t the most conventional mother, she loves me with a fierceness that I thank God for. Who knows how I would have turned out if only my father had been around.

“Raq, have you seen my blue striped…Owen, I didn’t realize you were home from clinics. Sit, tell me how it went.” Speak of Satan himself. My dad was ruthless in his pursuit of getting me signed to a professional team. Criticizing any part of my game was a regular occurrence for him.

“I actually really don’t have time, I have to be somewhere…” I shuffle my feet, trying to escape this situation as fast as I can.

“You don’t have time for this? What could possibly be more important than your entire future? You really are lazy, kid, you know that?” His voice raises three octaves by the second, and a flush starts to creep onto his cheeks. I want to punch the living shit out of him.

My entire life, I had been told by this man, who was supposed to encourage and support me, that I was a lazy, no good sack of shit. Maybe not in those words, but he laid it on thick.

No, he hadn’t ever reached the level of physically abusive parent, but when you’re told your entire life that you’re not good enough, it starts to sink in. I don’t think my father had ever given me one high five, one “way to go, pal.”

I can feel my blood pressure rising as I ball my hands into fists, physically restraining myself from acting on my earlier impulse to strike him.

“Are you done with pretending you give a shit how my clinic went, or did you need to berate me for another fucking hour? Sorry we can’t all be you, Carl,” I practically shout in his face. I need to get it together. Focus on getting to Minka.

“You ungrateful little…” My father starts.

“Enough. Silêncio!” Mama shouts, her head swiveling between both of us. “Carl, enough of this, please. He works so hard, let him be young. He has time for all of that, his future, if the majors is what he wants.” She soothes my father in her lilted Portugeuse accent.

“And you…” she points her finger at me, “If you ever curse under my roof again I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. I raised you better. Don’t be so quick to yell at your father either, he only wants the best for you.”

I love her, but she just doesn’t understand sometimes. “He sure has a great way of showing it.” I seethe as I walk from the room. Fuck the shower, I need Minka. No matter what I look or smell like. Breezing through the front door, I try to lift my mood as I head for her.

I
’d started
to get cagey when he was 15 minutes late. By the time half an hour rolls around, I’m downright paranoid, chewing on my ring finger like it won’t bleed if I bite my cuticle for the thousandth time.

30 minutes. That’s how long I’d been waiting for Owen. No call, no text. He was standing me up and I knew it. I’m so dumb. I’d let this happen again.

I stare at the clock. 7:31….okay, make that 7:32 p.m. Fuck this. I should go scrub my makeup off and pull my ratty old sweatpants on. Mint chip ice cream was just as good as Owen Axel. That ignorant jock.

Just as I’m sweeping my long hair, which I’d actually taken the time to curl into long loose tendrils, up into a ponytail, a soft knock comes on the front door.

It can’t be him. Who would show up this late into what was supposed to be a date? Moving towards the door, I peer through the peephole. Hercules himself stands on the other side, looking mussed up, but I can’t make out his outfit in the shadows of the front porch. But as usual, he looks lickable no matter what clothes adorn his body.

Okay, so maybe Owen Axel shows up 30 minutes, no make that 32 minutes, late. Jeez, he was going to have some stupid excuse. I shouldn’t even open the door, he was just going to try and manipulate me into…

“Minka open up, I know you’re there…I’m sorry,” he sighs, running a hand through his golden brown locks, causing the muscles in his biceps to flex. My heart gives a squeeze in my chest. God, he looks incredible.

I have to open the door, or I really would qualify as some immature high school girl. Edging towards the knob, I slowly turn it, feeling the anxious tingles in my stomach spreading through my body. I don’t want to be excited that my very hot, very late, crush is on the other side of this door, but I can’t help it.

I have a witty jab ready on my tongue, but it dies on my lips the minute Owen steps into the light pouring onto the porch from the foyer. He looks exhausted. He still has his baseball uniform on,
swoon
, which have hand-print sized orange dirt stains running down his thighs.

I’d never been jealous of dirt stains before, so this was a new one. His hair stuck up haphazardly, and my fingers were suddenly itching to run through it, to massage his scalp. Do whatever I could to wipe that defeated look from his face..

But its more than that. He looks haunted. It scares me. Not because I didn’t know how to deal with it, but because the look he wore, with his eyes drawn together and his mouth bracketed by lines of sadness…it was the look I saw on my father’s face each and every day.

“Hey,” he breathes at the same time I ask, “Are you ok?”

His lip curl up at our railroading of each other, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. I suddenly would sacrifice anything to plaster that charming grin he usually wore back onto his lips.

He moves toward me, not uttering a word, and swoops me up so that my feet leave the floor while he embraces me. Talk about sweeping a girl off her feet, literally.

His hands go around my waist as he eliminates any space that had remained between us. My arms go to his strong shoulders, and he buries his face into my neck. I realize that I didn’t know how not okay I’d been for the last couple of days without him. Not until he picked me up in his arms.

He keeps me there, suspended, for a few minutes, each of us just feeling the other under our fingertips.

And I slowly began to acknowledge that I’m getting in way deeper than I had bargained for. And that I am too weak to stop it.

“Come with me somewhere?” he mumbles into my neck, pulling away to look into my eyes.

“Sure,” I mutter, mesmerized by his the flecks of turquoise in his baby blues.

We walk hand-in-hand out to his truck and climb in. After he’d reverses out of my driveway, he takes my palm, lacing my fingers through his own rough, calloused digits. He doesn’t let go the entire drive, as if I was some thread that would slip away if he didn’t hold on for dear life.

Owen maneuvers the car through Mitchum’s busy Main Street, which is coming to life on the beautiful Sunday night in July. People line the sidewalks, speciality lattes in hand, checking out menus displayed in front of the chic restaurants abundant on this stretch of town. I had never observed the main drag much, I tended to shy away from it. Seeing it now, from the passenger seat of the town superstar’s truck, I could almost understand that need to be seen.

My body jostles as Owen makes a sharp right, veering away from the hob-knobbers in the town square. I fall into his big body with an “oomph,” and he looks down to give me the most genuine, despite it being small, smile he’s thrown my way all evening. I lean up and kiss his cheek, trying to soothe whatever he was warring with inside himself. I really had missed him the past couple of days.

Since he’d brought dinner over, and also supplied some dessert, there had been a shift in our interactions. No, I wasn’t calling this a relationship. Yet. If I even wanted that.

But, something had changed. We texted and talked the entire time he’d been away at his clinic, something I definitely wasn’t used to, not even with Gregory. A boy had never taken a genuine interest in things I liked or had to say. With Owen, it was just different. He was different. So damn different than I’d ever given him credit for.

And of course I can’t get enough of him. Besides his obvious attractiveness, yes, he was insanely, panty-meltingly hot, he was smart. Really smart. He could debate me on a number of topics, and was versed in numerous subjects, whether it was politics or pop music. I never got tired of conversation with him. And for someone who is an admitted introvert, that’s a big feat.

Owen  drives us slowly around a bend in the road, and I suddenly know where we are headed. Giving an exasperated sigh, and not caring what’s going on with him for the moment, I voice my objections.

“Seriously? You take the girl who hates high school, during the mandatory school day and beyond, to the high school? You
would
think this was a sick date spot, bro.” I huff, yanking my hand back from his.

And this is why, besides being so damn different this past month, he was the same. The same as all of those people who had stripped me of my pride, my self-worth, and left me as this shell of a person. A person who would never, ever so easily trust anyone again.

I stare out the window, calculating the distance between the football field and my house, seeing if its plausible to run for it once he stops the car. I wasn’t putting myself in another situation like I had two years ago. I’m smart enough to cut and run this time.

As we near the familiar building with its all glass front, I actually start to sweat. I need to put my head between my knees for the fear of throwing up, but I have enough dignity left in me to not blow chunks all over Richie Riches’ leather seats.

But then he speaks, for the first time since we’ve been in the car. “Trust me, okay? I would never take you anywhere that you didn’t feel comfortable.”

I look over to find his penetrating gaze on me, a slight smile playing on his deliciously full lips. Can I trust him? I would never admit this to him, or any breathing soul on this planet, but I did. Which equally intrigued and scared the shit out of me. I just hoped he wasn’t leading me down a path of humiliation, because at this point, I was too far gone to turn back now.

“Ok,” I breathe. He nods at me and scoops my hand back into his.

Owen brings the car to a slow stop and maneuvers into a parking spot on the outermost row of the lot facing the wooded perimeter of the school.

Turning the ignition off, he reaches down and unfastens his seatbealt. “Ready?” He brings his thumb up to graze my cheek in a sweeping motion. I can feel the touch all the way into my core, where a slow burn has started from just that gentle swipe. I have to stifle a moan, my body so wound up from not seeing him in days.

“Yes,” I sigh, moving into his hand that is now firmly holding my chin.

We climb out of the truck, and Owen rounds it to help me out. Grabbing a bag from the bed of the pickup, he wraps an arm around my shoulder and starts leading me towards the woods. I stare up at him curiously, raising one eyebrow.

“You’re awfully cute when you do that, you know?” he winks, my first indication that the Owen I know is on his way back to wherever he’d disappeared to.

“Well, it’s not everyday a guy lures me into a dark wooded area. You don’t have a knife in that bag right, or a noose?” I joke, pretending to peer around at his backpack.

“Just keep walking, smartass,” Owen pinches my nose with the hand wrapped around my shoulder.

When we walk about fifty feet into the woods, I spy something ahead that looks like a clearing. As we move closer, my eyes catch on a sign hung on one of the big pine trees. “Welcome to the StoneShack,” it reads. But above Stone, someone has written the word “bone” in red Sharpie. Classy.

Looking up, I see a pretty elaborate treehouse high up into the pine. How had I never known about this place?

“What is this place?” I look over at Owen, who was smirking.

“Some seniors built it when I was a freshman, snuck out here to get stoned during school hours. And apparently, engage in some other debauchery as well…” he snickers.

“Um...news flash, I don’t smoke. And if you really think you’re getting me naked in some seedy hook up spot, you clearly haven’t gotten to know me at all.” I start to feel cagey again. What the hell were we doing here?

“Relax, goody-two-shoes. You’ll see why I brought you when we get up there. Now up you go,” Owen gives my butt a gentle smack, heat firmly replacing the sadness that had resided in his eyes just minutes ago.

Ok, so if he tried to get me naked up there I wouldn’t exactly resist…

Nearing the tree, I put my foot on the first makeshift rung, essentially a slab of metal that had been driven into the tree. It would be a long climb, the treehouse looked to be almost 20 feet off the ground. I grab the rung above my head and pull myself up, careful to go slow in the pitch black that had now set in around us.

“That’s it baby, take your time, go slow….” Owen taunts from below me. So he wanted to play that game, huh? I wasn’t the only one who could get hot and bothered from innuendo.

“Oh yeah, baby? Just try to keep up with me, I want us to get there at the same time,” I peer under my outstretched arm. I can’t see him well like this, the moon obscured by so many branches, but from his intake of breathe I know I’d accomplished my mission.

I make it to the top, despite a few missteps and shaky hands, and pull myself up through the hole in the boards comprising the floor of the treehouse. Owen follows shortly after, pulling the backpack off once he stands up and spills it’s contents onto the floor.

“Ok so we have….a blanket,” he winks as a he spreads it out on the dirty wooden floor, “Juice boxes, every kid’s picnic favorite…..and….” Owen roots around in the bottom of the bag, finally pulling the item he was looking for free, “Swedish Fish!”

He smiles, taking a bow and then plopping down on the blanket, ripping the straw off one of the juice boxes and taking a large gulp.

I blink, stunned at this weird, yet adorably cute turn of events. And then a trickle of doubt niggles under my skin.
Is this his play? This is how he gets me to completely fall?

“So, this is where you take all the girls, right?” I say, trying to keep my voice void of any emotion.

Owen snaps his head to me, his expression unreadable from where I stand in the moonlight.

“Actually no, I have never taken any other girl, let alone person, up here with me. Jeez, you must really think that little of me.” he shakes his head, staring out over the trees.

Instant guilt floods my system. I had to stop doing this. I had to stop second guessing my gut. I had to stop letting the events of my past rule my present. I sit down on the blanket next to him and fold my legs indian-style.

“I’m sorry. I just…..it’s not easy for me to trust. Especially someone like you.” I play with the frayed edges of the blanket.

“Someone like me? We’re back to this again? I’m just me, Minka.” Owen edges his fingers close to mine, not quite holding my hand, but just laying his fingers there. “Who made you like this?”

His question is almost a whisper, almost as if he didn’t even want to ask it. Did he really not know? Maybe he hadn’t realized that the girl who was humiliated was me. Was I ready to tell him?

Looking at him in the silent, dark night, his fingers drawing circles into my palm, I realized I wasn’t. I couldn’t reveal what had happened, not yet. I couldn’t stand to think of the day he looked upon me with pity, or maybe even evil humor in his eyes. It was a mix between the two, the looks that my classmates gave me. I wasn’t ready to give this up. I wanted Owen to see me as he saw me right now, for as long as I could hang on to it.

“It’s….in the past. I’m sorry for snapping.” I need to change the subject, and fast. “What was wrong earlier?”

Owen lays back on the blanket. “Join me?” He motions for me to lay back with him, so I do. “This is what I come up here for.”

Following the direction Owen’s muscled tricep is pointing, I stare straight up. “Oh my…..”

Overhead the tree’s formed a canopy, with an opening directly above where we laid in the treehouse. “I’ve never….”

“Seen the stars so clearly? I know. It's like you’re sitting in the clouds. It’s addicting, this view.” He reaches out to find my hand on the blanket where it lays in between our bodies.

I’m star struck, literally. I can’t even seem to form a sentence. It feels like the sky is inches from my face, like if I was to reach out, I might be able to hold one of those burning balls of light. Butterflies explode in my stomach as I realize, Owen had brought
me
out here. Obviously this spot was special to him, and he’d shared it. With
me
.

We laid there holding onto each other in a peaceful silence, until Owen spoke up.

“I have felt like a failure just about every day of my life.”

If he didn’t sound so goddamn sad just then, I would have thought he was joking.