Fastball Flirt (The Boys of Summer Series Book 1) Page 11

  “No, she’s just at home. At my place.”

  “Tell me you finally hit that if she’s staying at your place, dude.” I don’t answer, not willing to cave to his whims. “I bet you’re totally a sexless innkeeper, aren’t you?” He laughs and high-fives a bunch of the other guys on the team.

  I roll my eyes at them. “Shut up, Owen. You don’t know shit.” I eat my food, shoveling it into my mouth and regretting not heading home right after the game. Most of the guys who stay at the clubhouse late are single and don’t seem to have anything better to do. Even before Lila, my stays were infrequent.

  “You should come out with us. We can help you get some pussy.” As if I would want—or need—Owen’s help in that department.

  “You know what? I’m out. See you guys tomorrow.” I throw my plate away and head home.

  It’s after eleven and the apartment is dark when I get there. For a moment, I panic, thinking Lila left. Thankfully, when I enter the bedroom, I see her lying under the covers, her breaths even.

  I have a nagging feeling in my gut telling me she’s avoiding me. I don’t know what I can do differently to put her at ease. I think part of her might feel trapped. She’s solely relying on me now. She has nowhere else to go, her friends are gone, and she gets scared easily. The situation is an adjustment and I want to make it as smooth as possible for her. I just wish she’d tell me how I can help instead of clamming up on me.

  I take off my clothes, sliding under the covers in nothing but my boxer briefs. The minute I curl up behind her, she sighs and relaxes into my side. At least she’s at peace while she sleeps. I hope she can achieve that same level once she wakes up.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” I say as Lila pads barefoot into my kitchen rubbing her eyes. She’s wearing one of my Sox shirts which hits her mid-thigh. I want to scoop her up and carry her right back to bed to have my wicked way with her.

  “God, I’m exhausted. How do you do it?”

  Traveling isn’t for the weary.

  “Takes some getting used to. I made breakfast.” I pile eggs and bacon onto her plate which she accepts and sits down at my island.

  “Coffee?” Her voice is grainy with sleep and the sound goes right to my dick. I pass her a mug full of joe and once my plate is filled I take the seat beside her.

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a rock.” She sips her coffee, seeming steadier than she was yesterday.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, nervous to hear what she has to say. I run a hand through my hair, feigning nonchalance, but I’m sure she can read right through me.

  “Better, thank you. I don’t know. Maybe it was the jetlag or just lack of sleep or something. I got a little freaked yesterday. I’m sorry.”

  I lean over on my stool and kiss her. “Still love me?” I ask as she takes a bite of eggs.

  “Almost as much as I love these eggs. Holy shit, Hollis, these are fantastic.”

  I shrug. “My mom’s a chef. She taught me a few things.”

  We finish our breakfast and she helps me clean up. “What’s on the plan for today? Still coming to the game?”

  “Actually, my brother is in town for the weekend. It’s his first and probably last weekend off for the foreseeable future. Think he could come to the game with me?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll get you an extra ticket.” She grins. I’m anxious to meet her brother and I’m glad he can come to a game where I’m pitching. As long as I don’t fuck up.

  “Thank you.” She pecks me on the lips before heading to hop in the shower. Before she goes, she leans back around the corner. “Oh, and Hollis?” I look at her, her blue eyes swimming with happiness every time she looks at me. I raise a brow and wait to hear what she has to say. Her mouth forms the cutest miniature smile. “I do love you.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Lila

  “Jackson!” I wave my arms over my head to get his attention. He spots me through the crowd and makes his way over to me.

  “Hey, sis.” He pulls me in for a hug and I wrap my arms around his waist tightly. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I hugged him.

  We make our way into the stadium and grab entirely too many snacks before heading to our seats. The game won’t start for another thirty minutes or so which gives us more time to catch up.

  “First thing’s first, tell me all about Hollis.” He takes a bite of his hot dog, turning to me like we’re two girlfriends catching up. He and I have always been close and tell each other everything. Hell, I’m the first person he told when he came out. Our relationship is thicker than blood.

  “He’s gorgeous, of course. Funny, charming, kind, the whole nine. That’s him over there.” I point to where my man’s peeking his head out of the dugout. He waves to me and my brother whistles at my side.

  “You’re right, he is gorgeous. Are any of his friends single?”

  I smile. “I’ll ask around.” I tell him everything, from the way we met to the past few weeks, forgoing all the dirty details. That’s one line I refuse to cross.

  By the time I get through the whole story, the game is about to start and the vendors start circulating. Jackson grabs us each two more beers before settling into his chair and I turn the conversation back to him.

  “What about you? Any hot docs you can hook up with in the call rooms, Grey’s Anatomy-style?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, the hospital doesn’t work like that?”

  “You’re telling me it never happens?”

  “I never said that.” I grin and take a sip of my drink. “But no, there are no men on my horizon. I have to live vicariously through you. Who would’ve thought you’d become the more exciting sibling?”

  I jab him with my elbow.

  My brother is handsome, with ashy blond hair like mine and a strong build. He’s tall and takes great care of his physique. Plus, the man is a doctor; he’s got some killer brains in his pretty little head. He’s a goddamn catch. I don’t know why he can’t catch a break.

  “Have you talked to Mom and Dad?”

  I haven’t spoken to my parents in a couple of weeks. They’re always busy and I’ve been out getting a life for the first time in almost twenty-four years.

  “They wanted me to visit this weekend. Actually, they thought I should try and pick up extra hours at the hospital. When I told them I was already over hours and was literally being kicked out of the place, that’s when they asked me to visit.”

  “Ah, what it must be like to be the favorite child. A novelty I’ll never experience.”

  “It doesn’t come without its fair share of struggles.”

  He’s got a point. They always put more pressure on him. When I told them I wasn’t going to med school, they barely put up a fight. It was just another disappointment on my long rap sheep, but when Jackson thought about going to law school instead of med school, it was the end of the world. World War Three broke out between my parents. They blamed one another for their failure, as if it was their fault Jackson was pursuing other interests. I think my dad even filed for divorce at one point. I’m still not totally sure if my brother went into medicine for himself or for them.

  Truth be told, even with all the pressure, I don’t think he can do any wrong in their eyes. No, they save all the disappointment and resentment for little ol’ me. How lucky am I?

  My parents both work at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. My dad insists he was hired first and got Mom the job, but of course Mom says the opposite. They’re constantly in competition with each other. Maybe that’s part of being surgeons, the desire to be the best. Something I will never be if you ask my parents: the best.

  “What did they say when you told them you were coming to see me instead? ‘Why bother, Jackson? She’s just your dim-witted sister. You can’t learn anything from her and it’s not like you’ll date any of her friends.’”

  He laughs, choking on his beer. “Something along those lines, yeah.”

  I take a bite of my s
oft pretzel and roll my eyes. I wouldn’t put it past them. We’ve been chatting so long we didn’t realize the bottom of the inning had begun and Hollis is on the mound. There’s one guy on base, which isn’t a good start, but I’m not sure if he was walked or if he got a hit.

  Luckily, the inning ends with three strikeouts and the player on first never made it to home base. Still, I can see Hollis’ body language from here and I can tell he’s beating himself up over it. I wish I could run over to him, kiss him, console him, or help him relax, something. I can’t even text him.

  Whoever thinks dating a pro ballplayer is glamorous has obviously never lived the experience first-hand. They’re gone the majority of the year, games and practices happen basically every single day and go late into most nights. I rarely see the guy and I’ve been living with him in some sense of the word for a couple of weeks now.

  “What’s gonna happen with you two when classes start?” The one question I wish everyone would stop asking me. I shouldn’t get mad at my brother for being concerned, but I try not to think about it.

  “I don’t know. He’s already told me he’s willing to try long distance, but could it even work? We’re from two different worlds. He has women flocking to him and I’m sure he doesn’t hate the attention. What guy would? Why should I think he’s going to stay faithful to me or that we have any shot in hell of making this work? It would be naïve of me to think that.”

  “So, what’s the alternative? You cut ties? I see how you’re looking at him, Lila. Those aren’t just a few strings. You’re in deep.”

  “I know. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” It’s the bitter truth, something I haven’t even discussed with Hollis yet and I’m not sure when or if I even will. “Mom and Dad don’t know about this, right? They haven’t said anything to you?”

  He shakes his head. “Not a word.” I’m guessing they didn’t ask about me at all, but I can’t know for certain. I’m sure they’ll call me up sometime soon to verify I’m still alive. At the very least I’m sure they’ll call me up for my birthday in three months.

  Because I’m feeling bitter talking about my parents and the impending demise of my relationship, I order another beer. I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but it’s summer and it’s not like I have anything to do. I probably should’ve gotten a summer job to save up some money before next school year starts, but sometimes girls just wanna have fun. I guess Cyndi Lauper was right after all.

  The game draws on and the Sox are up four to one. I’m sure Hollis is pissed he let the Phillies get a home run in the fourth inning; I can almost hear his teeth grinding from here. The guy is too hard on himself. He needs a break. I need to loosen him up.

  “You should come with us to dinner after the game.” My words are starting to slur and I take extra effort to form each syllable.

  “After the game? It’ll be like eleven o’clock.” Jackson reaches for my beer, but he’ll have to pry it from my cold, drunken hands.

  “Right, right. Well, tomorrow then. Hollis needs to meet you officially.” I nod vigorously and it makes me nauseous.

  “Okay, you can call me tomorrow.”

  I smile and the notes to Sweet Caroline start playing. I don’t know where the game went, but I don’t care.

  I bless the stadium with my personal rendition of this traditional song. My brother, the funny guy he is, keeps trying to put his hand over my mouth and tugs on my shirt the entire time. He keeps muttering things like, sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself, you’re gonna fall. Classic big bro. So protective. The world is my stage and the jumbotron is my camera. I’ll be a hit. Republic Records, here I come, make me a star.

  Everyone around me claps when the song is over. Though, I think they always do…I can’t remember. Either way, I’ll be viral by morning.

  The rest of the game passes in what feels like two minutes, thank God. Baseball games are long and no offense to Hollis or anything, but they’re kind of boring.

  Jackson gets me home, well to Hollis’ place, and helps me inside. He wants to stay, to make sure I’m okay, but I urge him to go, to hit the town and have a random hook up. He’s young and hot and the Sox won. It’s the recipe for a perfect night. I’ve just collapsed on the couch when the door opens again. I’m still fighting with my brother when my boyfriend shows up.

  “HOLLIS!” I bellow. “You get to meet my brother! J, this is my Hollis. Hollis, this is Jackson. By the way, are any of your teammates gay?” I fall back into the couch, counting his teammates on my fingers and asking is he gay? What about him? Are you sure?

  The two of them shake hands and start talking, but I’m too entranced in my homework of finding my brother a boyfriend. The door slams closed and I look up to see my boyfriend standing there with his signature bemused smirk.

  “Where’d Jackson go?”

  “He left. He said goodbye but you were too busy mumbling about my teammates.” Hollis offers me his hand, though I’m not sure why. I give him a high five and beam up at him. He shakes his head, laughing. “Come on, time for bed.”

  “Ooooh, what are you gonna do to me?” He tugs on my arm and I stumble off the couch into the thick wall of muscle known as Hollis.

  “I’m going to take off your clothes—” he starts.

  “Uh huh, go on…”

  “Then I’m going to put you into bed—”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” I follow along as he drags me through his apartment.

  “Then I’ll climb into bed after you—”

  “Naughty naughty.”

  “Then we’ll go to sleep.” I stop like dead weight in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “No, babe, I think you missed a few steps.” I’m ready to stomp my foot to get my way.

  “Baby…you’re drunk.”

  “And needy. I need you.” I walk toward him, tripping over an exposed strip of hardwood floor. We’ll have to nail that back down in the morning.

  “Lila, I’m not having sex with you while you’re drunk.”

  We’ll see about that. I’m a master of seduction. He won’t know what hit him.

  NINETEEN

  Lila

  The next thing I know, it’s morning and I’m still in my Sox jersey from yesterday’s game. I feel like the roadrunner and someone dropped an anvil on my head overnight. I moan and roll over. The other side of the bed is empty and cold—Hollis has been gone for a while already. I reach out, searching for my phone to check the time. It’s almost ten which means there’s a good chance I have the place to myself and Hollis is at the stadium.

  With a groan, I force myself out of bed. My head throbs with every step I take. First things first, I head into the kitchen and grab coffee before I die. Then I take my mug and drink it in the shower.

  Yes, in the shower.

  I shield my precious mug from the onslaught of hot water beating down my back. The combination of caffeine and searing hot water almost has me feeling like a real person again.

  I attempt to get dressed, but I end up in on a pair of leggings and one of Hollis’ over-sized t-shirts and call it a day. After grabbing a second cup of coffee, I plop down on the couch and turn on the TV for mindless background noise. Grabbing my phone, I pull up my texts and open my messages to my brother.

  Lila: I think I’m dying.

  Jackson: You were in rare form last night.

  Lila: I think the stress of everything just got to me.

  I wait several minutes, but no response comes through. I even double check my phone twice to make sure I actually sent the message. After another five minutes, my phone finally vibrates with his response.

  Jackson: I’m worried about you.

  I’m taken aback. He’s worried about me? Why?

  I decide to cool off and don’t respond to him right away. I’m trying to be mature and not overreact to his words…though that’s exactly what I want to do. I’ll see him later and can talk to him then.

  The day passes slower than I’d like it to. I opt
not to go to the game this afternoon because I can’t deal with loud noise right now and my stomach is still rolling. The crackers and ginger ale I’ve been consuming all morning have done little in actually calming my stomach. Considering I’m going to dinner with Hollis and Jackson tonight, I need to feel better sooner rather than later.

  I have ESPN on to watch the pre-game before it starts. I’ve never been the sports girl and now look at me. I’m a whole new person because of Hollis.

  I must doze off thanks to my hangover because when I wake up the TV is still on, but it’s the bottom of the fourth inning. The score is zero to zero, and I’m even more grateful now that I decided to sit this game out. Baseball isn’t the most thrilling sport to begin with but especially when nobody scores.

  I sit up, noting the stomachache and headache have both passed, thankfully. I grab my phone, and my eyebrows furrow when I find a missed call from my mom from only a minute ago. That’s probably what woke me up. I open the notification and call her back immediately.

  Might as well get this over with.

  “Hello, Lila.” Louise Fielding is Ellis Grey personified, from the determined personality and brilliance all the way to her disdain for her daughter—me.

  “Hi, Mom. I saw you called.” I speak to my parents only a handful of times each year, usually around holidays. I rarely see them because they’re surgeons living halfway across the country and have always chosen their work over me. I know there are doctors out there willing to find a balance between work and home life but not my parents. Sometimes I wonder why they even had a second kid.

  “Yes, well, your father heard some interesting news in the operating room this morning. His intern came across an article about some baseball pitcher shacking up with someone with your name and was wondering if it was you. Your father set him straight, of course, but I thought you should know. This could affect our family.” Oh my God. Please, no.

  I sigh and rub at my forehead. This isn’t going to be fun. I knew there was a possibility of something like this happening, where an article or news story or gossip mag would put my personal life on display. I just didn’t imagine my parents breaking the news to me about its existence.