I shake out my limbs, pushing our conversation to the back of my mind so I can concentrate on the task at hand. It’s only early March, but it feels like it’s a hundred degrees out here on the mound. I shuffle my feet, kicking up some dirt with the bottom of my sneaker. The cotton T-shirt Skylar gave me clings to my back. It doesn’t say my name, but it has the number fourteen on the back. The front simply has the name “Headliners” stitched in blocky uppercase font. A little obvious, but whatever.
With my mitt tucked under my arm, I flick my nose with my thumb. It’s been years since I even held a ball, and yet muscle memory took right over. I’ve been throwing like my life depends on it. Not that I really give a shit about this stupid rec league game, but half-assing isn’t my style. I can’t say I’m not exhausted, though. Nate’s training sessions ended the same day they began, so I’m still thoroughly out of shape. My lungs are burning, my muscles are screaming, but I’m not about to back down now. Thank God, these games only go six innings. We’re at the top of the sixth, and up by one. Two outs, two strikes, and one runner on second. One more strike to go and then we can end this thing once we’re up at bat.
As I wind up, I feel him in my periphery. Of course, Ashton would play shortstop. He can’t just be in one place. He’s got to be everywhere. In between bases, in between my head and that stupid organ hammering in my chest. I shake the thought from my head.
Focus, Allie.
I circle my arm, stepping forward as I send the ball sailing down the middle, past the batter, who takes a deliberate step back, making no attempt to swing, and smacking directly intoDan’s glove. He used to be an actual catcher in the minors when he was younger, and we’ve been dominating together this whole game.
“Ball three,” the ump calls out.
Wait, what? What the actual fuck? No way in hell that was a ball. I throw my hands up in frustration but remind myself to rein it in. “That was on the line,” I mutter as I catch the ball Dan sends back my way.
I wind up again and throw even harder this time, high and fast, the ball singing in the air. The batter, some DJ from the radio station whose name I don’t even know, swings big like he’s aiming for the outfield and completely misses.
Gotcha.
I tip my hat smugly, shifting my feet on the ground. I’m about to walk off the mound when I hear the ump’s shrill voice.
“Foul. Ball four. Take your base.”
The batter casually drops his bat and walks over to first.
What. The. Fuck.
“Oh, hell no,” I yell as I throw my mitt to the ground. “You’ve had it out for me this entire game.” Who the hell does this chick think she is? I stomp over to the plate.
“Just calling them like I see them,” she says as if she can’t be bothered to have this conversation.
“That ball didn’t even graze his fucking bat,” I shout back.
“There’s no need for obscenities.” She looks a little nervous now. Good, she should. She takes off her helmet and tosses it on the ground.
Well, that was a big mistake.
She looks to be about my age with long blonde hair tied in a French braid. She rises to her full height as I get closer. She’s a couple of inches taller than I am, but I can still take her.
“You think that was obscene? I’ll show you fucking obscene.”
Just as I’m about to launch at her, I feel a hard surfacepressing against my back. Strong arms circle around my waist as I look down at my feet, which are now floating an inch above the ground.
Motherfucker.
“Calm down,” Ashton says in my ear. It’s gentle but firm, and all it makes me want to do is the opposite. I start kicking my legs and pushing on his arms.
“She’s been making shitty calls all night.”
“Allie.” His hot breath skates up my neck, the scent of spearmint and cedar making me dizzy.
“Let me go,” I yell.
“I will, but you have to promise me you’ll walk back to the mound.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, putting my hands up in surrender as I attempt to shrug him off. He slowly lets go, but the second he does, I’m on her like Alfredo on the back of a wooden spoon. She shrieks as I rear my fist back. I’m quick, but Ashton is quicker, grabbing my wrist before I can make contact with her face.
Once again, I feel arms around my waist and I’m hoisted off the ground, higher this time. My feet instinctively kick out in front of me.
“Ashton, I swear to God, if you don’t let me down, I’ll?—”
