She nodded. “I knew you would be. Now, go lift heavy things. I’ll follow up with the details soon.”
I grabbed my gym bag and quickly caught up to Matty. The muffled clang of weights and raised voices bled through the doors at the other end of the hallway.
Matty walked with his hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, shoulders a little tight.
“Didn’t peg you for the first-to-volunteer type,” I told him.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well, don’t tell anybody. I don’t need anybody expecting me to volunteer for other stuff, like sharing a room with Roman or, heaven forbid, another bachelor auction.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “You hate talking in front of people.”
He smirked. “Kids aren’t people. I don’t know. After last year, it just . . . felt like I needed to do something. Someone’s gotta say the stuff nobody wants to, so why not me?”
I nodded, letting that sit. “They’ll listen to you.”
He shrugged, but there was something steadier under it. “Even if they don’t, at least they’ll know it’s okay to need help.” His lips split up in a small grin. “Besides, if I can talk to a room full of reporters, I can talk to a few kids.”
I gently smacked his shoulder. “That’s debatable.”
The weight room doors swung open in front of us, noise—and smells—rushing out.
The first thing I saw when we walked in was Pink, back flat against the wall, thighs clenched in a wall sit alongside two of the relief pitchers who looked like they were regretting every life choice that had led them here. He held his phone up at eye level like it was sacred text.
Roman was mid-bench, Diaz spotting him with a hand hovering just under the bar, while Soren stood nearby knocking out arm curls, expression neutral in a way that was deeply unsettling.
“Chapter three,” Pink said, clearing his throat dramatically for effect. “Matty’s freckles glowed under the stadium lights as he stepped out of the dugout, his uniform clinging to every hard-earned muscle.”
Matty stopped dead in his stretch. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Pink kept going, eyes sparkling with pure evil. “The crowd roared, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart—and the low, hungry growl from the shadowy figure waiting in the on-deck circle.Strong hands gripped his waist, spinning him until his back hit cool concrete.‘You’ve been teasing me all season,’ the stranger whispered, voice rough as pine tar. ‘Time to slide into home, shortstop.’”
Roman let out a low whistle from the bench. “Damn, Pink. You missed your calling as an audiobook narrator.”
“Please,” Matty said, face already going pink. “Make it stop.”
“But it’s about to get good.” Pink wagged his brows suggestively. “Matty’s breath hitched as those clever fingers tugged at his belt, accidentally grazing the length of his cock with everybrush.”
“Fuck!” Matty dropped his bag with a thud and dragged both hands down his face. “I’m begging you. Seriously, name your price.”
“Too late,” Tuck called from behind the bench. “This one’s got twenty thousand hits already. You’re a star, Matty boy.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” the star in question protested, climbing to a pitch that only his dog would understand. “I don’t get it. Why is it always me? Look at Bennett. Why don’t they write about his ass or whatever?”
I snorted before I could stop myself, heat creeping up my neck. “Hey,” I said, holding up a hand. “Leave my ass out of this.”
Soren finally took pity and set his dumbbells down with a clang. “Alright, put the phone away, Pink. We have bigger things to discuss.”
“Bigger than Matty’s dick?” Pink hedged.
“Or Bennett’s ass?” Diaz teased.
Soren nodded then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, captain mode settling in. “Since we’re all here—and since you fuckers clearly need a distraction—let’s talk about my bachelor party.”
The room went quiet for half a second and then . . . chaos.
Roman perked up immediately. “Hell yeah.”
Pink’s eyes lit back up. “I have ideas.”
