Bush League: New Adult Sports Romance (16 page)

Beau

*****

I peel out of the hotel parking lot, knowing I have next to no chance of getting to the park in time. My foot barely presses the brake at each red light, stop signs pretty much ignored, all in an effort to get there before the team gives up on me for good. While traveling down the roads at unsafe speeds, I also try and put my uniform on, risking the lives of everyone I pass. Pedal to the floor, I finally reach the park and turn the car off and pull my jersey fully into place, tucking it into my pants once my feet hit the pavement.

"Well, I'll be," Enzo says from two cars away. "Everyone else pretty much gave up on you."

"I'm here now, man," I tell him. "Ready to play."

Enzo laughs. "Ready to sit on the bench, more like it," he clarifies.

"Whatever you guys need."

Enzo appears at my side, ready to usher me to the rest of the team. "So what is it, you finished meeting with the scouts in time to make it to us?" I stop right where I am and so does he.

"I told them to screw. Walked right out of the meeting. You guys are more important to me."

Enzo looks suspicious but he doesn't question me, instead appearing to accept my answer and we continue on. “Sure that was a good idea?” he mumbles.

When we arrive at the dugout, Enzo is allowed to walk right in while Coach puts his arm out to keep me behind.

"You're late," he says to me with a stern face I'm not used to seeing from him.

"I'm here Coach. For the team."

He looks me up and down, his arm not lowering and his face not warming up.

"We have a chance to win it all today. Plenty of guys here have been giving it their all all season. Don't think I'm gonna play you over them just because you decided to show up," he tells me. "These are the guys that deserve the shot."

"I understand, sir."

There's a heavy silence between us, my heart beats fast as I wonder if he's going to reveal that he knows all about me and Quinn. Something in his eyes tells me he does and I know I'm a dead man because of it. When his arm slowly lowers and allows me to pass, I do so without any hesitation, eager to join the team and leave this awkward standoff as fast as possible.

Unfortunately the team appears less than happy to see me. Barely anyone turns my way when I arrive in the dugout, a bunch of cold shoulders. Unwilling to let it get to me, I start to get settled, ready to do whatever the team needs when Johnson, the game four starting pitcher, walks over to me with fire in his eyes.

"I've been in your shadow for two years. Thanks for fucking up so I could get a shot."

He's outside of his element talking to me like this but I hold back from letting him know so. Johnson is starting pitcher for this game only because I'm not, he owes me a little bit of respect. He's got the whole team behind him and the game on his shoulders, he doesn't need a lecture from me right now. I pick up a ball from the bench and place it firmly in his glove.

"Give 'em hell," I tell him. "You got this."

Johnson takes the ball and heads out to the mound while I retreat out to the bullpen to prepare in case I'm needed.

*****

The most important game of my college career and I'm forced to be a spectator, watching the action unfold instead of being the one making the magic happen. If I were out there, the team would be energized, excited, set to win instead of being tied at zero. I have to remind myself that it's time for me to think of the greater good, not just about myself.  The idea of such hits me like an epiphany and I start to cheer with added enthusiasm, I'm just pulling for my team to win.  My body drapes over the bar separating the bullpen from the field and I get as close to the action as I can, causing my throat to become raw and irritated from all of the yelling. All I want is for my team to win this, whether I'm on the field or not it doesn't matter. This is bigger than me. The other pitchers join me and soon we're all dotting our space in the outfield as an enthusiastic cheer section, relentlessly supporting our team. When one of our guys pushes in a run, we go bananas as if he had just knocked in twenty.  We're dizzy in anticipation of what may happen next, thrilled at the prospect of our team hanging on and winning the whole thing.

Our guys stop hitting and our chance on offense is coming to an end, it's almost time for our guys to get on defense and win this whole thing. All of us in the bullpen silently acknowledge that we'll once again have to rely on our pitching to save the day. For the first time ever, I'm not even thinking about how I'm not getting a chance to go out there and win the game, I'm just pulling for the team, I want them to take this championship more than anything in the whole world. We all keep to our position on the barrier, butterflies in our stomach as we realize how close we are. When the phone suddenly rings with only one out in the inning, we're all too superstitious to move. Finally someone does and we look to him for the verdict.

"Tillman, get loose. Coach wants to put you in," I'm told and I do as instructed. I start to throw some pitches, getting my arm nice and warmed up. As I prepare to enter the most important game of my career, I look out into the crowd and wish more than anything that Quinn could be here for me to help calm me down.

It's not long before the call comes that I need to hustle out to the mound. Coach is standing there with one of the middle relievers and he's waving at me to hurry. It's a terrible spot he's putting me in; we're only up by one, bases are loaded and there's only one out. I know he's only called for me because this is too much for anyone else on the team. If he wants the win, he has no choice but to give his best pitcher a shot.

"Hey," I say upon arriving at the meeting of the mound. Silk, the pitcher I'm replacing, hands Coach the ball and walks off, receiving wild applause from the crowd to which he tips his hat.

"Enzo, go get behind the plate," Coach tells our catcher so that it's just me and Coach alone up there on the mound.

"I know about your meeting today," he says, still holding the ball having not relinquished it to me yet. "And I know you've been seeing my daughter," he continues and my stomach drops.

"Coach...I...I...," I scramble for a response.

"It takes a lot of balls to be this arrogant," he tells me, anger and fire behind his eyes. When I try again to defend myself, he cuts me off. "Lucky for you, we really need someone with balls right now." Coach slams the ball into my glove. "Win the game, Tillman," he tells me and walks away without another word.

My feet kick the dirt on the mound as I try to get my head back in the game. I'd never been in such a situation before, never had this much pressure on me. The guys in the field wait anxiously for me to perform for them, the crowd eager to see me do the impossible. I know that this is bigger than me, probably outside of my ability. A quick scan of the crowd and I wish again that Quinn was here to make me feel better. Enzo's got one finger pointed down between his legs and I nod that I understand. I'm left to only hope that my arm can do the impossible. I set, my leg kicks and I throw the fastest ball I've ever thrown...

*****

Quinn

*****

What the hell have you done?
I mutter to myself over and over again. After weeks of increasingly reckless, irresponsible behavior, I cap it all off by walking straight out of the exam I need to pass to get my degree. As the adrenaline begins to wear off, regret starts to sink in rapidly. Without any other choice, I head to the American Superstar auditions and know deep in my heart that it is the biggest fuck up I've ever made.

Looking over the parking lot I see hundreds if not thousands of people waiting to audition for the show and each one is better looking and almost certainly more talented. It's painfully obvious now that I've screwed my future on a whim and it's too late to turn back now.

"Becca, I don't know about this. There are so many people here," I say into the phone once she finally picks up.

"My cousin Brett says he'll find you, he'll make sure you get to see the real judges," she tells me but doesn't make me feel any better. My knees are weak and shaky as my nerves decide they want no part in this audition. I've never felt so alone and such a deep desire to run home and pull the covers up over my head.

I walk through the crowd towards where Becca told me to go, passing people and trying to not hear the angelic voices singing all around me. They're all perfect, better than I could ever get my voice to sound with even a thousand years of training. I'm out of my element and wish I was in that classroom, taking the test, headed to the realistic and humble future.

"Hey, are you Quinn?"

When I look up, a guy has appeared at my side, a cute boy with a clipboard in his hand and the speaking / listening end of a walkie-talkie on his shoulder. He looks impatient, as if he has a million places to be and I have less than a split-second to find the courage to leap on this opportunity. If I say 'no', I can still get out without embarrassing myself in such a high-profile audition.

"Yes," I hear myself saying out loud after remembering all the things Beau has told me, all the encouragement, the belief he has in me.

"This way," producer Brett tells me and leads me through the crowd, past hundreds of more deserving hopefuls who aren't as fortunate to be best friends with the cousin of a producer. We pass many rooms and long lines before arriving outside of the main room, the light from inside intense and bleeding into the hallway.

"This is your big shot," he tells me as if I didn't know. "Give it everything you've got. Good luck."

Brett gives me a pat on the back which turns into a gentle shove when I hesitate. Peeking in, I see the celebrities from tv sitting behind a table, looking my way and waiting to be entertained. Fear pulsates through my entire being as I wish more than anything Beau was here with me for support. I take a deep breath, bow my head in deference and force one foot in front of the other to propel me into the room. The bright lights are blinding and my sweaty hands are hard to hide. I walk to the place where two pieces of yellow tape make an 'X' on the floor and after a deep breath, prepare to sing my heart out...

*****

Quin
n

*****

A warm splash of sunlight dances on my face and awakens me gently as the scent of bacon enters my consciousness. There's little I can do to prevent the smile creeping across my face; I am safe, comfortable and content. Stretching my body feels amazing and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

"You up yet?" Beau says just above a whisper from the bedroom door, like a kid asking if it's too early to open Christmas presents. Still groggy, I can only open one eye and use it to take in the hunk just feet away. I peel back the comforter and pat the bed.

"Come back to bed," I whine.

"I made breakfast!" Beau enthusiastically tells me. "Get up!"

When Beau leans towards the bed and reaches for my hand to help me up, I pull one over on him by grabbing his callused hand and pulling him next to me. He sighs in defeat and soon he's holding me, our legs and arms intertwined as love swells in my heart.

"Can I expect breakfast every morning that you're off?" I ask before sneaking a kiss, pressing my lips to his soft, pillowy ones, a favor he returns.

"Spring training starts in a few weeks, don't get used to it," Beau says with a smile and returns for another kiss. Our arms hold each other tight as our hands begin to roam. We roll together as both of our clothes begin to magically fall from our bodies.

"Just think," I tell him to include him in the amazement I still feel for the life we have made, "you winning that championship got you drafted by the best farm system in the whole country. Had you skipped that game..."

"I'd be finishing my senior year right now because those jokers weren't serious. I know I'm really lucky," Beau says before landing on top of me, our bodies so familiar that he slips into me as though we were made for each other. "But I'm not the only lucky one," he says while thrusting more of his thickness into my welcoming body. "If you had actually been selected by that show and not finished your degree..."

My eyes close briefly before my fingers dig into his back and I bypass a moan to finish his sentence.

"I'd be the touring the country as the third opener in depressing clubs."

"And because you got your degree?" he asks though he knows the answer.

"I was able to negotiate an unbelievable record deal that will help provide for us until you sign your big contract," I tell him the words we've gone over so many times. Beau's girth fills me as he pushes in and I long for more of him when he retreats.

"You feel so amazing," he tells me while hovering over my body and leaning in for another kiss.

"Remember when we used to use condoms?" I can't help it and we both laugh. Beau is free to finish in me as I am his and he is mine. "Do it for me Beau," I tell him.

"Say my name again," he urges me as his pace quickens a little and I can feel his skin glide over my most sensitive parts.

"Beau...Beau Tillman!" I yell without a care of who might hear me. There's nobody but us in the house and I don't care who can hear me profess my love.

"And who are you?" he asks with a glimmer in his eye and his pulsating cock buried deep inside me.

"Quinn," I saw with legs wrapped around him and my hand guiding him to look right at me. "Quinn Tillman."

As soon as I finish saying my name, I am suddenly awash in Beau's fluids, his manhood pumping his seed deep into me and covering my insides with even more of his love. When he fully withdraws I press my knees together to keep a part of him inside me for as long as I can.

Beau collapses on the bed next to me and we stare deep into each other's eyes as he caresses my face and I realize I want more mornings like this, just like this, forever.

"We're supposed to meet your father soon at the field," he says as gently as he can.

"Why did we agree to that again?" I ask and we both laugh even though I was the one who agreed to go see my father, Beau just never complained.

I tell Beau I'm going to go shower and he perks right up, begging me to let him join me. His enthusiasm is intoxicating and contagious.

"I have to pee," I inform him and he momentarily looks disappointed. "But once I'm done, I could use a little company." A wide smile returns to his face and he promises not to come in until he hears the shower running.

*****

Beau won't admit it but I can tell that he's really looking forward to visiting his old stomping grounds again, seeing the old team. It was almost a year ago that he helped them win the championship and here the team was ready for another season, only without him this time. After winning the championship my father was able to keep his job so there are no bad feelings. At least I don't think there are.

"Team, huddle up," my father calls out to his practicing players once he spots Beau and myself arriving at the field. The team quickly organizes and we find ourselves surrounded in almost an instant.

"You all remember this guy, right?" my father asks and the team lets out a string of catcalls and whistles. "Looks like he's headed to the big leagues. Los Angeles, am I right, son?"

Beau nods to indicate that he's correct and I can't help but butt in with a few fairly assertive coughs.

"And of course, this is my daughter Quinn. I didn't forget you sweetheart. I was going to reintroduce you right after your husband, I promise."

He's likely not telling the truth but I let it go as he continues.

"Beau, want to practice with us a little?" my Dad asks and though I beg Beau not to (he could get injured after all), Beau is already grabbing a glove before my father finishes speaking. The players all surround him and I'm left only to watch and let him do what he's gonna do.

"Grab a helmet, son," my Dad says to Beau. "And a cup."

Beau does as he's instructed without questioning anything, which is just like him.

"Boys," my Dad addresses the crowd, "as some of you may recall, I made it explicitly clear to all my players that they had better stay far away from my only daughter."

Before Beau can figure out what's happening, two players are holding his arms, preventing his escape. They carry him towards the fence behind home plate as he playfully kicks his legs.

"Well, as you can see, Beau didn't listen," he announces to his players and though everyone knows the story, the crowd lets out a scandalous "oooooh," like a bunch of gossiping teenagers. Knowing my father's stubbornness and fondness of revenge, I worry for Beau.

"Mr. Tillman," he announces as the players press Beau up against the fence and hold him to it. "Before you leave for the pros, I wanted to give you a chance to meet your replacement. Beau, meet Chuck..."

A giant of a young man stands and his shadow looms over us all. He has his glove on and is throwing a ball into it as he chews the side of his cheek.

"Dad...I," I try to interject but my father puts his hand up.

"Now, this young man has provided my daughter with my grandson who shall be arriving soon..."

"Dad we're not telling people yet!" I'm furious. "We only told you because..."

My father quickly realizes his mistake. "Well, he's also heading off to a big career so we will make sure he doesn't get hurt...too much. Beau I just want you to see Chuck's fastball, see if you can give him any pointers."

Beau is squirming something serious now and I weigh whether or not I should go and dive in front of him to save him the pain of taking the fastball as punishment. Chuck starts his windup and I head towards Beau to help, my father's arm prevents me from getting too close. Beau squeezes his eyes closed in anticipation for the penance he's about to make, ready to accept the pain. I watch as Chuck pretends to throw a ball and two players suddenly appear behind him with big, blue buckets raised. Relief washes over me as cold water is instead poured over Beau's head.

"But if any other of you even think of attempting to put one over on me..." my father tries to say but the team isn't listening. Instead they've all grouped around the soaking wet and freezing Beau, giving him playful punches as he's still restrained and having a laugh.

"Ready for lunch?" my dad asks me and holds out his arm for me to hold on to.

"You're out of your mind, you know that, right?" I ask but he doesn't respond. The two of us head towards his car and I can only hope poor Beau joins us eventually.

*****

The end.

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