And I’ve fastidiously made it my mission to never grow up, which is why this concept is even more shocking.
This crush could only be happening if I’m getting old.
I pull out my waistband and look down at my junk.
Is it—is it hanging lower? Is gravity pulling my balls down? Are my—are my swimmers getting slow?
Is this crush on Waverly about some primitive part of me telling me we’re running out of time?
“If you want to consult a real oracle, you’re not gonna find it in your pants,” Emilio Torres calls.
“It’s Cooper. His ballsarehis oracles,” Max replies.
“Are they malfunctioning?” Diego angles closer, but not close enough to intrude on me-and-my-balls time. “Mr. Cooper, do you need help with your oracles? This is serious. Your game doesn’t have game. Are your oracles broken?”
Luca looks at me closer while I let my shorts snap back to my waist. “Hey, you missed that throw from D yesterday,” he says.
“And you struck out every time.” Darren’s looking at me closer now too.
“What’re you doing differently?” Brooks Elliott asks.
As if I’d tell him.
He’s a stocky white guy, and he’s who I was talking about when I mentioned the player who came to the team a virgin at the beginning of last season.
Superstition.
Didn’t think he could hit the ball if he scored with a woman.
Married to Mackenzie, the Fireballs’ most superstitious fan now, and together, they’ve broken his curse.
Still,my game sucks because I haven’t gotten laid since spring trainingisn’t something I’ll be sharing with him.
Or anyone. Including—or maybe especially—his wife. I thought I could talk to her about it before I ran into Waverly filming her video at Duggan Field, but now—no way.
“Maybe someone washed my lucky socks,” I say.
The locker room at large gasps.
Fuck.
Now one of the equipment managers is gonna get in trouble. “By accident,” I add.
“We’re doing a de-cursing,” Darren says. “Tonight. After the game.”
Shit. “I have plans.”
“Cancel them.”
He stares at me.
I stare right back. “I’m Cooper Fucking Rock. I can play a good game without lucky socks.”
The entire locker room gasps again.
Except Darren.
Pretty sure he knows my issue isn’t my lucky socks. “Prove it.”
