Bush League: New Adult Sports Romance (12 page)

At library. Could use a study buddy,
the first text from Quinn reads.

I don't understand any of this! Need help!

I would understand this better this if I were sitting on your lap. Ps I'm not wearing panties ;)

My cock swells underneath the table as I think of these messages but I can't let the team see me distracted and texting Quinn. I have to put it away and try not to think about giving it to her in the library. I put my phone back in my pocket and return to the teasing that is still going on.

"Seriously," Enzo says with amazement, "I've never seen you whipped before. Not a good look, meat." The table laughs and I bite my tongue from explaining that I'm not whipped, just challenged. I can feel my pocket vibrate yet again and I ignore it, pretending the team has my undivided attention.

*****

On the days I'm not scheduled to pitch, my routine has always been pretty casual; last to get dressed, last in the bullpen but always the one with the best seat. Trying to show myself as a committed teammate though, before game three I'm the first dressed and I walk around the locker room giving words of encouragement to each and every person in there. Even if I'm not scheduled to pitch and even if it's been made clear I'm going to have a diminished role, nothing is going to stop me from being the best teammate for these guys. My phone still shakes with alerts from Quinn but I have to stop looking or I'm going to be faced to sit through the game with a raging set of blue balls.

I've never been so interested in one of our games before. I'm standing on the bench in the bullpen yelling support every chance I get. It's contagious and soon all the other pitchers are doing the same. We're a force to be beat, absolutely ready to take the championship title.

I'm a little worried when the top of the 8th inning rolls around and the score is still tied 0-0. Our guys just aren't hitting. Coach brings out our closer, a fellow junior we all call Brick. Built like a tank with legs, he's a powerhouse and I have full confidence in his ability. Everyone does. That's why we're all a little confused when the opposing team starts hitting him. When they load the bases with only one out, that's when the worry sets in.

"It's alright, it's alright," I tell the guys in the pen. "We got this."

"Not if they're hitting Brick," I'm told by Chuck. "If they've figured him out, we've got no chance. Without you or him, we're losing this series."

It's a stupid statement and I'm appalled when everyone nods in agreement, like losers who've already given up. We're up two games to none and they're throwing in the towel. I keep quiet and watch as Enzo walks out to the mound to talk to Brick, trying to calm him down. Brick just needs to get his head right and he'll be fine. I wince when I notice Coach walking to the mound, never a good feeling for a pitcher. Coach walks off the mound looking concerned and just when I'm about to get back to cheering on my team, the phone in the bullpen rings.

Chuck keeps the phone pressed to his ear and he looks right at me. "Tillman," he says, "start warming up."

Not in a position to question orders, I get my stuff and hustle to the practice rubber, ready to start throwing to Meyers.

*****

I'm called into the game to pitch the top of the ninth, with two outs. My body is loose yet ready even though I've never been in a position like this before. My team has scored one run while I was warming up so as long as I can pitch my absolute best, I'll save the game. Coach is putting his faith in me to do just that. It's a different kind of pressure I'm experiencing, being tasked with winning the game in less than one inning. I'm not giving in but I am a little nervous about my ability. Enzo's soon at the mound with me for some needed words of encouragement.

"You got this. You're the best pitcher in the league. Let's get these guys out and win," he says and his generic statements don't have the impact he intends them to and we both know it. Before he heads back to his position behind the plate, he looks me dead in the eyes. "Whoever this girl is," he starts to say and when I try to stop him, he talks over me. "Whatever dude, I'm not giving you a hard time. Whoever this girl is," he places the ball in my glove,  "do it for her."

Enzo hustles back to the plate, pulling his mask down over his face upon arriving. He crouches down and my first batter steps into the plate in front of the catcher. Enzo's finger goes straight down between his legs, he's calling for my fastball. My arm pulls back, leg kicks out and I throw the ball as fast as I possibly can. It's like lightning heading straight for the plate, absolute fire. The opposing batter starts to move and I anticipate him missing the ball by a mile but am completely shocked to hear the sound of the bat making contact. It flies foul but the fact that he found the ball is a very bad sign. The look of worry on my face must've been very clear because Enzo stands, pulls off his mask and pushes down on the air in front of him to urge me to calm down. The problem is if this batter can make contact on my fastball, it's only a matter of time before he turns on one for a hit. As I kick the dirt on the mound around me to try and settle my nerves, I look to Enzo and see his finger go straight down again. He wants another fastball. My head shakes to tell him I don't agree but the defiant catcher lowers his finger again. He's insisting on the fastball. My skin feels alive and uncomfortable as I can suddenly feel all the sweat and dirt matted around my pores. Without any other option, I prepare the fastball again. Every muscle in my arm tightens as it pulls back, my leg kicks out and I throw the ball even harder than the previous pitch. The giant lug at the plate moves his shoulders and manages to foul the ball off again. This is not good. While I now have two strikes on the batter and only need one more, he's this close to figuring out my fastball.

My mind begins to wander as I wait for the batter to set for the next pitch. I think of Quinn studying alone, begging me to come see her. All I want to do is tell her that I won the game for the team. I want her to be proud of what I was able to accomplish. Thoughts of Quinn keep the fire burning in my belly and I know I have to strike this guy out.

Enzo drops three fingers down and now he's calling for my change-up. That pitch looks like a fastball because of the way my arm moves but it moves much slower to the plate and if used properly, fools batters. If this guy is looking for the fastball and gets a much slower pitch, he'll swing and miss. While it's not a bad idea, I don't want to go out like that. I don't want this joker to think he can get one over on my fastball. I bend at the waist and lean over, my head shakes to tell Enzo 'no', I'm not throwing the change-up. He calls for it again and I'm certain the whole stadium can see that I'm shaking him off. Enzo finally relents and a single finger drops down between his legs. Now he gets it. I stand up straight, tighten my arm, kick my leg and throw the ball like the a heat-guided missile. A fireball scorches down the path to Enzo's glove and the batter's shoulders move in time. Soon the sound of the ball hitting Enzo's leather glove pops loud enough for us all to hear and the batter is already walking back to his dugout with his head hung low. My team swarms me on the mound with reckless abandon;  we won game three.

"You're coming out, right?" Enzo asks me in the midst of the frenzy. My brain thinks of Quinn and how she's waiting for me.

"I don't know man..." I manage to get out even though I'm being slapped on the back and jostled by a million pairs of hands. Enzo isn't disappointed, instead he just looks bewildered. The party rages around us but we're locked in our standoff.

"I don't think you understand," he says, getting closer to me. "You
have
to come out. With your team."

He's right and we both know it. I assure him I'll shower and go with them wherever, pledging to myself to ignore my phone for as long as I can.

*****

                                                        Quinn

                                                       
*****

A broken down car mixed with pride equal a lot of walking. Becca's not around today so I'm left with no other options. I'm not having my father drop me off on campus and I sure as shit won't call Beau. I wasn't even calling for a ride last night yet he still ignored all my texts as if I were annoying him. Whatever. The long walks aren't so painful so I'm forced to push past my stubborn pride even as I start to get angry at Beau for making me feel like a pest.

The trip from campus isn't even that far and the sun has moved a bit where it's not too hot. Head held high I proceed forward without any problems until I can sense something coming up behind me. The purr of the engine I hope will pass lingers where I can't see it, pressing warmth on my back and clearly traveling at a speed much lower than it is capable of.

"Hey," I hear a male voice call out from the vehicle behind me and I don't even have to turn around to know who it is. "Hey," he repeats as if it were possible that I hadn't heard him. When I don't respond, Beau's truck rolls slowly down the road until he is at my side, passenger window down, car advancing to match my pace. Beau's disarming smile lights up his cab as I do everything in my power to keep my eyes on the road in front of me instead. The short glimpse I get of him says he just came from working out or practice; he's sweaty, dirty and likely smelly.

"C'mon..." he pleads and I still don't give in. "Let me give you a ride..." The idea of his truck is way more appealing than this dirt road but I remain strong. "Quinn! You can't be mad, I did what you told me to do!"

I'm unsure of what he means but also pushed to my limit of annoyance so I stop and he locks his brakes right next to me. There aren't words coming from my mouth but instead a look forms on my face that tells him he had better explain fast.

"Just get in," he says again, as if he can boss me around. Because I don't jump right in, he explains further. "I won the game. Should get you a little breathing room, no?"

My head cocks to ponder; this is the first I've heard of this.

"So you've won the championship?" I ask innocently.

"No, our next and hopefully last game is tomorrow. But we're looking good. If we win, we're champions."

"But wait, I thought you weren't allowed to play," I say.

"I spent all day yesterday begging your father to give me another shot and he finally did. I kept him so busy I bet you got to do whatever you wanted to do," he tells me. I need to hear more so I climb up into his truck and sit with arms folded over my chest, still a little cross at him.

"Well good for you. My test is tomorrow and I've been studying a whole lot, thank you very much."

"Yeah, about that. Look, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you. I had to beg to be allowed near the team and then the game..."

"You couldn't just reply? A quick text?" I want to avoid looking desperate but I'm hurt and need him to explain.

"There wasn't much time, promise. Between meeting with your father and then the actual game, I barely had my phone. And if they saw me texting instead of paying attention to them..." he says and I'm no less pissed.

"And what? You're not allowed to send a text?"

"Everyone demanded my full attention or else I wouldn't be let back on the team. On top of that, everyone seems to think a girl has me acting all crazy. Do you want to take the blame if we don't win?"

Beau pulls onto the street next to mine to drop me off where we won't be caught.

"Actually," I say, "my dad's not home. He had to run out of town for a few hours. Empty house." Beau's tone changes immediately and I can tell he's excited by the prospect of what he believes is going to happen. "But, just to be safe, I'll get out here." Beau pulls over on the street a block away from my home and is presumptuous enough to turn off his engine once he puts the car in park.

"Ok, thanks for the ride!" I say while going to get out. His hand stops me, not grabbing me forcefully but holding me gently, his callused paw caressing my arm.

"Think I can come in to use the bathroom?" he asks and I can't tell if he legitimately has to pee or not. His pleading eyes get me and I finally agree "Fine! But then you have to leave." Beau happily removes his keys from the ignition and leaps out. He's at the passenger side door before my feet even hit the pavement. Though my father isn't home, I beg Beau to walk in the shadows just in case, who knows if the neighbors here are gossipy. My hands struggle to put the key into the hole as Beau leans in close to me, I can feel his intense presence wash over me and smell the essence of what makes him a man. He's teasing me about my the difficult time I'm having, making it feel like we're doing something we shouldn't be, which we are. A spike of adrenaline hits my body and I feel more excited and more alive than I have in some time.

"Come, come, come," I urge once the door flies open. Beau runs in first and I inspect the outside area again, just to be sure there isn't someone watching who had seen me let the school's star athlete into the house.

"Down the hall, last on the left," I tell him and when he hesitates, the look on my face tells him I'm not amused. Whether or not he actually had to pee, Beau does the right thing and goes off to find the bathroom. While he's occupied, I figure I have enough time to change into something comfortable to get ready to study in. I go up the stairs quietly, keeping an eye on the window in the event that my father surprises us and shows up at home. There would be no excuse I could give.

In my room I find my comfortable yet completely unsexy gray hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. In an effort to move as quickly as possible, I pull off the top I wore to class and the tight jeans that had been around my legs. While I want to take off my bra as well, I know better and will wait until Beau leaves. I hold out the pants in front of me to make sure I put them on the right way and am startled by a deep voice.

"So, this is your room?"

Beau causes me to jump in the air and I clutch the clean clothes to my body. Though we had been intimate before, I still feel the need to cover up in the presence of this boy. My heart starts to race as he slowly walks over to me and I turn my back because I know I won't be able to stop myself if we get close.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he says and I feel his words tickle the back of my neck. My hands clutch the clothes tight to my chest as Beau's body makes slight contact with my practically naked backside. I can't help but arch my butt to press his bulge between my legs and I feel myself getting wet despite myself. Beau's hands find my wrists and he locks his talented fingers around them before guiding my arms to stretch out and go up against the wall. My clean clothes drop as staccato breaths leave from deep inside of me.

"I want you so bad, more than anything else," he whispers in my ear as he removes a hand from my wrist and guides it over my body, running over my skin and underwear. He doesn't linger and his touch feels electric as it passes.

"Beau we shouldn't, we can't," I say but my body deceives me by seeking out more of him, dying to feel his body push against mine. My hand falls off the wall and ventures behind me, tracing the outline of his hard cock from outside of his shorts. He swells in my hand, his thickness I dream of moving inside me again. Beau's talented fingers gingerly dance over the cotton patch of panties covering the warmth between my legs and I can feel myself getting more turned on by the second. Here, in my bedroom, in my father's house, with the one guy driving him crazy? The forbidden nature only makes me want him more. My legs part wider and Beau's stiffness presses in the spot I'm inviting him into.

We both hear it at the same time and reflexively jump away from each other. The sound of a car's engine comes in through my open window and I don't even have to look when I hear the engine turn off.

"Shit!" I yell and pull my study clothes on fast though a flame still burns inside of me. "You gotta go!"

A erection points from Beau's shorts and is impossible to ignore.

"Where?!" he asks.

"Get rid of that boner and go downstairs. Pretend you were waiting for him or something.

"No way! That's a terrible idea. Absolutely not."

"Do you want him to catch you up here?"

The idea hits us both at practically the same time. Both of our heads turn towards the window on the other side of my room, away from the driveway and leading to the back of the house. Beau is hesitant until I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to show me his courage.

*****