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Word on the street is our Playboy Pitcher is ‘playing’ a little less, but we’re not buying it.
Find him, Sharks … I dare you.
“Now that was a fucking game!” Neo shouts, banging his hands against the metal lockers. “You served them their ass, Cruz!”
I smirk, tossing my jersey into the laundry bucket. “You thought not?”
Neo laughs, turning to X.
“And my boy here with that hard ninety!” He lifts him onto his shoulder. “We’re gonna show them Cal Poly boys how real coastal boys play ball!”
The team grows rowdy, shouting while stomping the ground and slapping the metal in front of them.
“Let’s get through this next series, then we pity the poor punks who have us coming at ‘em next.”
“Don’t shit on our parade, Cruz, just ‘cause you’re bailing on it again.”
“Have one for me, huh?”
“I’ll have two for you, my man.”
Echo steps up then, leisurely tugging his jersey over his head. “You really not coming out with us again tonight?”
“Nah, man. Can’t.”
He raises a brow. “Can’t or don’t want to?”
“Both?”
He laughs, shoving at me. “Just be careful, my man. For your sake and hers.”
“Heard, my man.”
He jerks his chin, heading off toward the showers, and I’m out.
I round the corner, digging my phone from my pocket.
“Where you running off to in such a hurry?”
My shoes squeak against the freshly polished floor, and I jerk my head right to find Coach leaning against the door to the equipment room. “Tutoring, Coach.”
He looks to the clock on the wall, slowly sliding back to mine. “You know your grades fell in two classes according to Friday’s check-in, but the books show you had double the sessions last week … you sure you’re getting your times’ worth?”
“Yes, Coach, I am.”
Squinting, he nods. “I take it Meyer’s not giving you any more problems?”
“Nah.” My lips curve. “She’s coming around.”
Slowly, but more and more every time.
“She must have, being it’s after nine and you two have an appointment.” He tips his head, eyeing me.
“Hey” —I toss my keys up in the air, catching them in my open palm— “you said take all the time I want, right?”
“I said take all the time you need.”
My forehead pinches with a slight frown, but I laugh it off when his grin slips, and he pushes off the wall.
“Glad you’re dedicated, son.” His hand comes up, clamping onto my shoulder. “After UNR, we’ve got a tough team coming, and midterms will follow.”
A thought hits and I spin to face him. “About that …”
Meyer
Tobias gets set, sending the ball flying into the fence that’s just over sixty feet away before bending to pick up another. He cuts me a glance over his shoulder, grinning when he catches me watching. “How much longer do we have?”
I tug my fingers free from Bailey’s and tap on my phone screen. “Ten minutes to pack up, twenty until I have to be at the school.”
He nods, goes back to throwing the ball a few more times before rushing to clean up his mess.
My hands holding hers, Bailey stands in my lap, jumping lightly on her feet and making little screaming sounds just to hear her own voice.
As Tobias comes back, he dusts his hands on his jeans and reaches over, lifting her into his arms and up over his head. He carries her over to his bag, bending to reach inside, and pulls out a ball. Holding it out in front of her, he says something I can’t hear, and her little hands find their way to it. Straight into her mouth it goes.
Tobias laughs, but his head quickly snaps my way. “It’s a toy one, can’t hurt her,” he rushes out.
My smile is slow, but I quickly turn away, pouring my focus into packing up my things.
A tingling sensation sweeps through my arms and legs.
He thought of her when he wasn’t with me, as he did when he knew she existed for a whole five seconds. As he did last week when he went out in search of this park. It’s a few miles from campus, full of shaded trees and an empty field, a place he can get some practice that allows me quiet time with her, and a little schoolwork mixed in, as he put it.
And then there was last night.
He insisted on picking me up from work, and when he did, he had a pizza from Franny and Joe’s with him, hoping to get to stick around for a little while. I couldn’t, didn’t want to tell him no, but when we got there, Bailey heard me come in and woke up. He knew my time was short with her earlier that day, so without my saying a word, he walked back out the door. It took some convincing, but I got him to agree to take his pizza with him. Of course, he texted me ten minutes later and told me he left it on the porch and Franny would be upset if I let it go to waste.
All I could do was smile at the screen, as I find myself doing every time I think of him.
My body grows weighted and warm.
To the others on campus and every other person who bet on what the media claims, he’s the Playboy Pitcher with a one-track mind, loose belt and looser morals. The egomaniac who thrives on press and publicity, and yeah, he might be some of those things.
He might be all of those things, Meyer.
My throat grows thick, and I swallow past the offset tethering of dread and hope.
He might be all of those things.
He might go out, taking all he’s offered, and he’s offered a lot. It’s no secret girls chase bragging rights. A gold mine.
A good time.
I did.
He might be everything people say.
Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes find him and Bailey.
He’s got her in one arm, his glove and ball bucket in the other as he walks to his truck. He sets his things in the back, and then his free hand goes right back to her.
He lets her push the ball toward his mouth and plays along as she wants, fake biting it and tapping her head with the bill of his hat.
She lets go of the ball, forcing him to catch it before it falls and her hand flies up to his hat, slapping it down and into his eyes.
His laugh is loud, and I feel it in my stomach.
He might be those things.
He might be mine.
Tobias spins his hat, so it now sits on his head backward, and then that perfectly crooked grin is pointed at me.
I’m not sure what my face looks like, but suddenly his grin loosens, his body turning so it’s parallel to mine, and he keeps moving forward.
His steps are slow and as he grows closer, he gently lowers Bailey onto the blanket we left sitting on the grass before I moved us up here to feed her.
He hops over the railing with ease, staying one row in front of the one I chose, and when he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, every nerve ending in my body fires off.
His bicep flexes as he reaches forward, gliding my hair from my eyes with his pinky.
“Come to my game.”
I swallow and he lifts his left knee, placing it on the plastic seat in front of me.
“That’s not a good idea.”
His body leans over, his hands coming down to grip the bleacher chair at my sides, and after a brief glance back at Bailey, he brings his face within inches of mine.
“I wanna look up from my place on the mound and see you sitting there, watching me … rooting for me.” His focus falls to my lips and his tongue comes out to lick his own. His blue eyes flick up to mine. “Come to my game, Tutor Girl.”
My stomach hollows, my grip tightening on the armrest. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
He tries not to show it, but creases form along his brow and he gives a curt nod. “Yeah,” he pushes up, bending to grab my bag and Bailey’s car seat, “just thought if you had extra time or something. It’s all good. You can’t get paid during a game, right?”
My brows crash. “That’s not it.”
“It’s all good, Tutor Girl.” He cuts me a quick grin, but it’s fake and his eyes are empty. “Let’s get you to the school, huh?”
Left with nothing else to do, I nod, pick up Bailey and strap her into her seat while he shoves the blanket on the floorboard.
We’re back at the school in minutes, and he’s gone just as fast.
Tobias doesn’t call me that night.
The next evening rolls around, and I’m leaving a late session at the library when I find myself passing a group of girls who must have just come from the game … the game he asked me to go to. They’re decked out from head to toe in Avix baseball attire, numbers painted on their cheeks, and ribbons curled into their hair. They’re smiling and laughing, having enjoyed their Friday night under the stadium lights.
I keep past them, but slow when one of the girls asks, “think Tobias will be there tonight?”
“He’ll go if Vivian tells him to,” another teases.
The tall, long-legged blonde laughs. “That ship has sailed, honey.”
“Please, all you have to do is call him.”
“Yeah, do it for the greater good,” another girl jokes.
“You guys, we’ve never been about date nights,” Vivian jokes.
Her friends laugh and suddenly the air feels thick, so I quicken my steps home.
Bianca has a date tonight, so she’s kissing my cheek and running out the door only minutes after I walk through it.
Bailey is asleep and Bianca said she woke to eat no more than an hour ago, so she won’t be up again until three or four in the morning, depending.
I have no schoolwork to do since I stayed up most of the night jamming through it, and I’ve already arranged my schedule for next week. Quickly glancing at the clock, I decide to try my brother since I missed his call, not only this morning, but last night too, unfortunately, once again we play phone tag, and his voice mail is all I get.
A long sigh pushes past my lips and I drag myself to my feet. Baby monitor and blanket in hand, I step out onto the back patio, fall into the chair, and peek up at the darkening sky.
Friday nights look a lot different than they used to, not that I was ever much for partying, but I would go out on occasion, and sometimes it was fun.
I wonder if that Vivian girl did what her friends wanted and called Tobias.
I wonder if they did, too.
There’s nothing that says he didn’t go out on his own.
I flip my phone over in my hand, wiping at the smear on the screen.
My fingers are itching to text him, an annoying need to know what he’s up to making my skin itch. I could always text him a quick congratulation on yet another win, see what he says …
Screw it.
I text him, and the moment I hit send, I shrink in my chair, my hands coming up to cover my face.
God, Meyer. Pathetic.
It’s not like a text will tell me if he’s out and so what if he is! He can be.
I don’t want him to be.
Covering my mouth with the blanket, I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What the hell are you doing, Meyer?” I chastise myself.
Don’t be dumb—
My phone beeps and a breath lodges in my throat.
My chest grows warm with unease and excitement, things that don’t go together but are equally felt.
Chewing on my lip, I grab my phone, opening it to read his message.
Tobias: I’m a beast, Tutor Girl. You should know this by now.
A laugh leaves me, and I fall back into the chair as a second message comes through.
Tobias: What you don’t know is I have a giant bag of caramel corn the vendor lady stashed for me and the password to my boy’s Netflix.
Anticipation swirls low in my stomach, creating an unsteady sensation as I wait for more, unwilling to dare and read between the lines because I know I don’t have to. Tobias never beats around the bush and his next text proves it.
Tobias: What do you say, Tutor Girl? Will you open the door for me?
My skin tingles and I text him back a quick yes, and not ten seconds later, my phone rings, his name flashing across the screen.
I answer, but he speaks before I can.
“Open up, Tutor Girl.”
I dart up in my seat, my head snapping around to stare at the front door. “You’re here?”
“I’m here.”
He’s here.
He was already on his way.
Standing, I head for the door, pulling it open with the phone still held to my ear, and when I do, my pulse flips.
He’s still in his uniform, black eye paint still drawn along his cheekbones, hat still pointed forward and hiding half his face, but his eyes shine regardless.
“You can hang up now,” he says into his phone, that is also still held to his ear.
A nervous laugh leaves me and I drop it, stepping back to allow him inside.
“Mind if I change real fast? I left quick to beat out the news crew. Figured if I stayed, you’d be sleeping by the time I got here.”
“Not if you had told me you were coming.”
“Didn’t want to give you a chance to tell me no.” He grins, disappears into the bathroom, and steps out not two minutes later.
“Think we can pull out the bed so we have more room?” He looks to me as he picks the remote up from the side table. “You do that and I’ll get us all signed in?”
I nod, doing as he suggested and not five minutes later, we’re pressing play.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I wake, it’s to Bailey’s soft cries. The clock reads three thirty, and the space beside me is empty.
Tobias went home.
Pulling myself into a sitting position, I wipe my hands down my face and toss the blanket I don’t remember covering myself with, but then I hear him.
My head snaps left to right as Tobias steps into the hall. Bailey held tight against his bare chest.
My heart beats double time as he comes closer, a tired smile on his handsome face.
“Someone woke up,” he whispers, his focus on her. “Ain’t that right, Bailey Bay?”
My heart pounds against my rib cage and I can’t look away from him.
Not as he reaches me, still fixated on her, and not as he climbs onto the bed beside me. He gently places her in my arms, and only once she’s secure does he look up.
“Was that okay?” he worries, his blue eyes roaming my face.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod, and he settles into his spot, but he doesn’t look away.
He knows why she’s woken, and he’s silently begging I don’t ask him to go.
I don’t want him to go.
I shift my baby girl in my arms and lift my shirt up over my left breast so she can latch on. Once she does, her hand comes up, as it always does, so I tug my hair free of the scrunchie and allow it to fall the way she likes it. Instantly, her little fingers glide into it, holding on with gentle ease.
Tobias’s soft chuckle heats my neck, and my skin flushes.
With a deep breath, I face Tobias, and our eyes lock once more.
Completely in sync, both of our heads lower onto the couch cushions we’re sitting up against.
A few moments pass, his blinks grow heavier, and then his fingers fold into mine.
Tobias falls back asleep and I sit there, tracing over his every feature.
At first glance, he looks the part of the rough and rugged ball player.
His hair is kept short and he’s never past the point of stubble. His smirk is ever present, his walk is more of a lazy strut, and his body a testament to long hours of hard work. He’s tall and confident, with flirty eyes and a cocky smile, but what you don’t see by simply looking is the softness he holds. Tobias has a kind heart he can’t deny, but doesn’t allow others to take advantage of. He doesn’t give the media the attention they crave, he brushes everything off one shoulder and squares the other.
He focuses on nothing but what he needs to advance in the areas in his life he feels are worthy of his efforts and he doesn’t let anything get in his way.
It’s admirable.
He is admirable and hardworking.
I’ve met my fair share of athletes now and while they all have a varying degree of commitment to their craft, his is unmatched.
He’s constantly working to get better, pushing himself harder, and taking every step he’s capable of to grow.
He’s up before dawn, working out and tossing the ball around, all to do it again once his team is there to join him, and he repeats it later in the day in the form of a game or two-a-day practices. If he’s not doing that, he’s watching film and studying his opponents, pinpointing their weaknesses, and forming a game plan to use against them. He memorizes their every twist and turn, the way they point their toes or grip their bat, the degree in which they swing off every pitch along with their hit to miss ratio.
How he has room in his head for school I’ll never know, but he gets done what he needs to and steps out onto the field strong every game.
It’s true what they say on the news.
Tobias is baseball.
It’s his life and it will continue to be, just as he deserves.
Come this time next year, he’ll be gone, that’s no secret, so what’s the point of spilling mine?
