Page 53 of Praising the Pitcher

She knows enough about competing and playing at the level we do to understand I blew it today. I played like absolute dogshit, and she witnessed it first-hand.

“No, she doesn’t,” my sister says, throwing her arms around me, giving me a hug. “You played awful, but you already know that.” She releases me, stepping back and keeping her hands on my arms. “You’ll do better at the next one.” She looks past me. “Okay, I’m going to glue myself to my boyfriend now because the cleat chasers showed up, and I’m not letting them even think they have a chance.” At that, she darts off, probably going to find herself some actual glue to stick her to D.

Now it’s just me and Gigi. Days ago, I wouldn’t have minded it because then, even though I knew I was attracted to her, she hadn’t overtaken every part of my fucking brain. Since the night she got out of my truck and stopped needing me, she’s all I’ve thought about.

And now, she’s probably moving on. And with a dude who looks like he goes to brunches at a country club with his parents who have a house in Nantucket or some shit.

My family may be well off, but we’re not stuck up. This fucker? He is. At least, he looks it.

“Noah?” Gigi’s voice breaks me from my thoughts of how much I hate my newest teammate. “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, what?” I say, taking a swig from my beer. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” she answers softly, shifting around on her feet because my presence makes her uncomfortable.

“Why? Because I sucked tonight?” I exhale, finishing my drink. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have my shit together for the next one.”

“Good,” she utters, surprising me. “Anyway, have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.” I may say the words, but what I really want is to ask her to take off from this party and hang out with me. This isn’t her scene, and even though it used to be mine, after today, I’m in a horrible fucking mood and don’t even want to be here.

She walks away, and even though I want to take off, I don’t. I don’t know Benny very well, but he’s obviously interested in her. He could be an asshole. I need to at least stand by and make sure he’s not going to do anything weird.

I try not to make my staring obvious, chatting with some people randomly but always keeping Gigi in sight. For the shortest-lived friendship, we got close enough in those few weeks that I talked to her about more shit than I talk to a lot of my long-time friends about. Aside from D—I tell him everything.

Now, it’s frosty as hell between us and I don’t know how to fix it because deep down, I know I can’t be her friend.

If I was capable of being her friend, I wouldn’t want to murder the man who she just gave her number to …

For someone who came to this party with the intention not to drink more than one or two beers, I’m fucking hammered. Which is great, because even though we don’t have another game till after Christmas, my dad is on top of us to be on our best behavior right now. He wants us all locked in, and I don’t think being drunk counts for that.

Not my smartest move, that’s for sure.

To tolerate watching Gigi chat with this Benny motherfucker, I had to drink. I could see the judgement in Dallas’s eyes every beer I went and got. His birth father was an addict, so he doesn’t like to get drunk himself, but apparently, he’d prefer if I didn’t either.

Some of Gigi’s friends come get her, pulling her away to the makeshift dance floor. Though when she reaches it, it’s clear she’s uncomfortable as hell. It’s not her thing, being the center of attention that way, which is sort of ironic seeing as she’s the pitcher and the pitcher is always in the spotlight.

“So, are you going to tell me why you were so hellbent on her having a cell phone?” My sister comes beside me. “Especially if you really are just friends?”

“Not sure we’re even that now,” I slur. “Ever since you went and fucked it all up.”

“Me?” Haven snaps, moving so she’s in front of me. Even drunk, I can read that she’s fucking mad. “Care to explain? Or are you too hammered?” She swats the empty beer bottle from my hand. “Real cute during playoff time, Noah.”

“Well let’s see … first, you made me feel like shit for hanging out with her—acting like I’m going to hurt her just by being her friend,” I grumble. “Then, you try to hook her up with that shithead.” I wave a hand toward Benny, and of course, he sees me and instantly narrows his eyes. “And now, you’re bringing up the cell phone when I told you not to mention it again.”

“I was going to eventually get her a phone, so I don’t know why you had to step in and be a hero,” she hisses. “And yes, I had them exchange numbers because he’s a nice guy! Her confidence is at an all-time low thanks to her dad!”

“News flash, sis, fucking random dudes won’t help that,” I growl, though it’s a slur. “You don’t even know if he’s a good guy.”

“D likes him, Noah. D doesn’t like anyone,” she says matter-of-factly, and she’s right. Dallas may tolerate people, but he actually likes very few.

“Who do I like?” Dallas asks, coming beside her, though standing a good foot or so away.

“You like Benny,” Haven explains without looking at him. “And Benny likes Gigi.”

“Annnnd?” Dallas looks confused. “All of this has what to do with any of us?”

“Noah here isn’t happy I suggested they exchange phone numbers. Why, might you ask?” She taps her chin. “Gee, I’m not sure seeing as he promised they were just friends.”