Page 32 of Praising the Pitcher

“Really?” I say, lifting a brow. “No bullshitting?”

It’s not really my business who she’s been with, yet I’m absolutely desperate to know. I want to know everything about her—as a friend, of course.

She exhales, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling before she falls forward, burying her face against my comforter.

“You’re an ass,” she grumbles. “Like, truly a certified ass.”

Clearly I’ve taken this too far, which isn’t what I wanted. I never want her to feel embarrassed around me, especially since her dad is clearly a dick who’s made it his mission to put so much pressure on her that she can hardly breathe. But I also want to know things about her, even things like … if she’s a virgin.

“Hey, I just got noisy. I find you intriguing as hell, and I guess curiosity got the best of me,” I say honestly before standing up and sitting on the edge of the bed. I give her plenty of space, but still inch myself closer. “You don’t have to tell me.” I cringe. “I’m sorry I asked. It’s not my business. And truthfully, I wanted to know for the wrong reasons.”

“What reason is that?” she mutters, never lifting her head from my bed. “To make fun of me?”

I breathe out a laugh. “Nope, not at all. I actually wanted to know what lucky motherfuckers had the chance to be with the hottest girl on campus,” I say honestly. “That way, I’d know who I hate.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet,” she grumbles, her shoulders slumping. “You really want to know?”

The vulnerability is clear in her voice, and suddenly, I feel like an asshole.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Gigi,” I say, leaning my forearms on my knees. “But I hope you know anything you’ve told me or ever do tell me will always stay between us.” I want her to know she can talk to me, especially since she has so much going on with her dad, clearly. I’m sure she needs someone to talk to—and I’d love to be that person for her, especially since I can’t be anything else.

I’m met with silence for a moment or two. She doesn’t pick her head up to look at me either. Instead, she keeps it buried against the comforter.

“I’ve had sex one time.” Her voice is low and muffled, and I wonder if I heard her right. “His dad was a friend of my father’s, so we had been around each other. He’d been with quite a few people, so I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to him, which is what I wanted. I was about to graduate high school, and I didn’t want to be the only one at college who hadn’t had sex.” She exhales a shaky breath. “So I asked him if he’d have sex with me. It wasn’t special. It didn’t feel good, but after a few minutes … I didn’t have to worry about being forty years old one day and still a virgin.” She lifts her head briefly only to bury her face back into the bed. “And now you know I’ve only been with one person and it was pity sex on his part.”

My heart hurts for her because even though my first time wasn’t anything memorable, I wish hers could have meant something at least. I hate that she gave such a sacred part of herself away to someone who didn’t mean anything. She’s such a special woman, and her first should have been better than that.

“Hey, stop that.” I lean down closer to her, putting my hand on her back and rubbing up and down gently. “Trust me, the fact that you’ve kept yourself so busy working on being the queen on the mound that you are and haven’t had time to date or sleep around is so fucking sexy to me, Gigi,” I tell her genuinely. Maybe it was mostly her dad keeping her schedule so packed, but she could have rebelled, and she didn’t because softball must mean so much to her. The fact she wants to be the best? Well, that’s about the most attractive thing I’ve ever heard.

“There’s nothing wrong with only having sex one time,” I say, knowing part of me is relieved because I’m still jealous of that lone, lucky motherfucker who got to be with her, taking her first. “Just know you can’t compare the spicy scenes in those books you read to the time you lost your virginity. Not at all.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But I have no time anyway. And it’s just easier to read about it and then make myself—” She stops, her body tensing because she thinks she’s said too much.

Fuck no, baby. Keep talking.

I wish I could ask who the dude was because if I knew him, I’d punch him in the face for giving into her when she clearly wasn’t thinking it through. But it was her decision, and after years of her dad taking every ounce of control, I’m sure it felt good to make that choice for herself.

“Make yourself what, Smoke?” I manage to choke out through my heart racing, not able to help myself. “When you make yourself come because you know what you like?”

She doesn’t say a word, so I move my hand to gently force her onto her back, then tip her chin to make her look at me. She fights it, but eventually, she gives up, moving her hands over her face to hide from me.

“Gigi, do you know how fucking hot it is that you don’t have time for a man, so instead, you take care of your own needs?” My cock twitches just thinking about it. “It’s so hot that I have to tell you, even though I’m trying my best to be respectful … you’re making it reeeeeallly fucking hard not to make a move because I find it incredibly sexy.”

Stroking my fingers across her wrist, I push gently to get her hands away from her face. “Hey,” I whisper. “Look at me.” She doesn’t budge, so I move my face even closer and hover about a foot over her. “Please?”

“No,” she grumbles. “I’ve blabbed my big mouth and embarrassed myself. I’m going to go home now and maybe just stay there for … well, like, ever? Yeah. Forever sounds good.”

“Cut it out,” I drawl, grinning and tugging her hands away now because she’s left me no choice.

When she finally looks at me, I tilt my head to the side. “You are a badass woman, Gigi Jacobs. Players fear having to bat against you because your pitching is so fucking strong. On the mound, you don’t flinch.” I stroke her cheek, knowing it’s probably too sweet and romantic, but I need her to hear me. “In day-to-day life, I wish you were that confident in yourself because truly, you’re fucking awesome.” I swallow, knowing she’s going to want to kill me. “I want you to look me in the eye and say, I’m Gigi Jacobs, and I’m a successful, badass woman.”

“What?” She scowls. “No freaking way.”

“Yes,” I say sternly, challenging her. “Please?”

“Do I have to?” she grumbles, and I nod once.

She rolls her eyes, groaning. “Ugh, fine. I don’t think this is going to do anything, but if it makes you shut up … here I go.” She sighs. “I’m Gigi Jacobs, and I’m a successful, badass woman.”