Page 11 of Curveball

What the fuck, Walker?

Sometimes Walker was too friendly for his own good. They began chatting, and the blonde, deciding to give her friend this one, turned to talk to one of his teammates. The brunette started laughing and placed her hand on Walker's arm.

She needed to get her goddamn hands off him.

The blonde walked off with Walker’s teammate to talk to some other people off in the corner, leaving Walker alone with her friend. They were now both laughing, and Walker leaned up against the bar, perfectly comfortable and content, evidently not wanting to leave this conversation to find me, his girlfriend.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

My blood was beginning to boil, but this was a good test for him, so I left it alone. Just when I finally decided to force myself to look away, Taylor growled, "What the fuck!" causing me to look back over at him immediately. There he stood, the brunette showing him something on her phone, then taking it from her, looking at it, and then showing her his phone. I felt the tears stinging the back of my eyes, the anger intense, my jaw clenching.

I had had enough.

I stormed over toward them. Walker glanced in my direction, and once he saw me, he grinned. I wanted to slap it off his pretty face. The brunette turned to see who Walker was smiling at, and, somehow getting the hint, she threw me a half-smile and walked away.

Yeah, you better walk away.

Once I reached Walker, I grabbed his arm. "Outside. Now," was all I said, immediately stalking towards the bar's exit. I hated public confrontation, and the fact that everyone knew Walker in this bar made it especially public. I stopped in an area that was off the sidewalk before I spun around to face him, eyes shooting daggers, anger rolling off me in waves.

Walker held his hands up in defense. "Whoa, Farrah, what the hell is wrong?" His brows were pinched together in concern.

"What are you doing, Walker? You win the College World Series, and now you think you can do whatever the hell you want?" I hissed.

"Um, not even a little bit? What are you talking about?" Walker looked at me, confused and completely unaware that what he had just done was inappropriate and disrespectful.

"What was that girl showing you on her phone?" I didn't give him a chance to answer. "Why were you showing her your phone? Did y'all exchange numbers or something? She wants you, Walker. She and her friend were off in the corner, bragging about you accepting their friend requests, and one said she DM'd you." My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, I was so worked up.

Walker shook his head. "No, she showed me that she DM'd me and said I must not have gotten it since I never responded. I showed her my phone to prove that nope, I did get her DM and chose not to respond because I have a girlfriend." Walker reached out for my hand, and I reluctantly let him take it. "Farrah, I’ve told you over and over again, you are it for me."

I felt the anger slowly dissipating. "Then why are you accepting friend requests from random girls?"

"I don't know, I accept friend requests from everyone. Ever since this season, I get tons every week, and I don't go through them; I just accept them. I don't really pay much attention to it, honestly." He shrugged.

I took a steadying breath. "Okay, well, it bothers me, Walker. Girls can be crazy. And if you told that girl you had a girlfriend, why were you two over there laughing?" It was clearly my last-ditch effort to catch Walker doing something wrong.

Why? I wasn't sure.

Walker chuckled, which slightly pissed me off, because this wasn't remotely funny. "She was laughing, all sure of herself, that I didn't get her DM, convinced that was why I ignored her. I laughed because I proved her wrong."

I nodded, still hesitant to so easily concede. "Okay." I wasn't sure what else to say; he had a response for everything. I didn't recognize this insanely jealous version of myself, and I didn't particularly like it. I felt crazy and out of control. Walker slid his hand up my neck and to my jaw before pulling my mouth to his. My body instantly relaxed and melted into him as it always did. He swiped his tongue across my lips, and I opened for him. His tongue slid against mine as he moaned into my mouth. We stood there on Rainey Street, making out for what I knew was the last time—but Walker didn’t.

I wasn't stupid; the girl from the bar tonight was just a small preview of what the future would look like if he went on to play in the majors. Baseball was supposed to end after college. That had been the plan, but after this last season and the Longhorns winning the College World Series, I knew deep in my gut that baseball wasn't over.

Which meant Walker and I probably were.

My worst nightmare was confirmed shortly after the College World Series win. Walker got drafted to the Austin Aviators.

Walking out the door of his apartment was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. The look on Walker's face when I told him I couldn't do this anymore, couldn't do us anymore, would forever haunt me. It took every last bit of restraint I had left not to go running back into his apartment and tell him I’d had a momentary lapse of judgment, that I’d gone temporarily insane. The tears hadn’t stopped falling since I’d left his apartment, and that was a couple of days ago, but I knew deep down I had made the right decision for myself.

Most of our relationship had been about Walker and his dreams. He had worked his entire life to get where he was in baseball, and I was so proud of him, but I was also ready for my life to be about me. My life had revolved around him for so long, and I was okay with that when we were younger. At the time, it was exciting and fun. I was too young to really know what I wanted to do with my life. But now? I had my own dreams I wanted to chase.

I guess you would call that maturity. Or maybe self-love.

We had been together for four years, and as incredible as it had been, everything was about baseball. I was tired of it, but always too scared to say that out loud to him, and myself. I loved him too much. It didn't really start to take its toll on me and our relationship until he played college ball, and even more so during the College World Series. I wasn't shocked that he got drafted when the Longhorns won. With how well he played his senior year and pitched in that final game, I knew that night it was a done deal, even if I didn't want to admit it.

After they won, I began mentally preparing for the breakup I knew was likely coming, because after this last year, I couldn't do it anymore. If I couldn't handle the attention he got at the collegiate level—the girls, the messages, the way it always felt like I was competing for a place I thought was already mine—how the hell was I supposed to handle the level of attention he would inevitably get in the majors?

I hated what it was already turning me into.