“Okay, Pirates, a couple of things,” Kellan said with a grin. Ever since his and Donovan’s relationship had been revealed, he was…friendlier with the team. Which meant he’d been holding himself back last year because of his dad’s strict guidelines. Now he seemed to be more himself. Sassier, sarcastic, and didn’t take any shit. But he still didn’t want to rock the boat, so I noticed when he reeled it in.
Or maybe being with Donovan had softened him. Imagine that. A person or relationship smoothing out your edges? Yeah, no.
“We have the kick-off banquet coming up.” He threw a cursory glance to Coach Adams, who planned those sorts of things with him and was now passing out flyers. “A couple of fundraisers too, and I’ll pass that information to you during the next practices.”
“We’ve got a tough schedule ahead of us, Pirates,” Coach Adams said, handing me a sheet of paper with the banquet date and dress code. “But don’t forget we’re also a unit, a family.”
“A dysfunctional one,” I muttered, and everyone laughed.
Coach Crawford shook his head, but there was a smirk on his lips. “So let’s start the season strong.”
After the clapping died down, Donovan stood up to do his team-captain part. I’d given him a hard time last year, but maybe he was just an easy target with his perfect hair and personality and family. However, now that I knew how hard it’d been for him to come out, I felt differently—and terrible—about how I’d acted.
“If anyone wants to come by our place straight after, we’ll order a bunch of pizzas to celebrate the start of the season,” Donovan said, his gaze landing on me. I nodded, as did Hollister. We’d discussed the plan earlier, and I’d be ordering a bunch of food on the way home.
“Plus, it’s not technically the official start of the season,” Hollister added, no doubt remembering Coach’s rules about partying, “so Coach won’t give us too hard of a time.”
Then we all stood and squashed closer together in a circle so we could stretch our hands toward the center to do the ridiculous team cheer. Which wasn’t actually that ridiculous at all, but I’d never admit it. Was that team pride blooming in my chest? Call it nostalgia again.
“Be fierce, play smart, win big!”
4
Girard
Damn, seeing Maclain again after a couple months of absence, struck my chest like a lightning bolt. Throughout the team meeting, I could feel his gaze pressing into my skin when he didn’t think I was paying attention, which meant he was affected as well, even though he’d never admit it. Of course, I could never guess exactly what he was thinking, which was frustrating all on its own.
Truth be told, from the first time Maclain had spouted off at me during a tense game last season and I gave it right back, I sensed there was something between us. Some sort of subliminal tension that never seemed to resolve itself. I began looking forward to seeing his grumpy ass every game, which didn’t make a ton of sense, at least not until newer sensations began happening in my body—and not only in my groin. There was also this strange tumbling feeling in my stomach whenever I earned a glimpse of that crooked little smile. It felt like a small victory, and I found myself wanting to draw that same reaction from him whenever possible, but it was definitely hard won.
I didn’t know if we’d ever figure it out or come to some resolution, but this was a new season, and a new chance for us to maybe become real friends outside of our shared baseball life. Maybe that was the way to go—trying to find another kind of common ground.
When I arrived at Maclain’s place, which he shared with Hollister and Donovan, I headed toward the kitchen with my six-pack of beer. Most of my teammates seemed to already be there, even the newbs, the latter probably thinking attendance was mandatory.
I passed by Donovan and Kellan sitting together on the love seat, all smiles for each other. Something about our team captain finally coming out filled me with relief that these newfound feelings I was having for a guy were not as uncommon as they’d felt all last season. I made a mental note to talk to Donovan about it at some point.
Or I could just ignore it all again. Why not? Maclain was obviously ignoring it too. Except, the five months ahead felt like a long penance, and I didn’t think I could last. Not understanding what this thing was between us felt like pure torture.
My skin prickled when I spotted Maclain near the fridge. It was time to bite the bullet and get the proper greeting between us over with.
“Want one?” I asked, offering a beer to Maclain.
“Yeah, sure.” He hesitated before he took it from my hand, and when our fingers brushed, he drew back like I’d burned him. When I narrowed my eyes, he gave back in kind, then stumbled away.
Well, that went over pretty well.
Fuck it. I grabbed a beer, set the rest in the fridge, then twisted the top off and took a long swallow. Christ, Maclain was going to give me a complex. Maybe it was better to just disregard his presence until we were forced to be in each other’s company.
That thought solidly in place, I walked around the living room and caught up with my teammates old and new, ignoring Maclain as much as I could. Except when I squatted down to talk to our new pitcher, who was seated on the floor in front of the couch, I noticed Maclain shifting uncomfortably in his seat across the room. What the hell? Was it a jealousy thing? Like the new guy was going to show him up?
Wanting to give my brain a break, I ended up sitting on the floor beside Vickers and tuned into other conversations my teammates were having about the upcoming season.
“So, I hear you’re a single man again,” Devers said, nudging me with his foot from his perch on the couch behind me. No doubt the news had spread around campus despite the break. In fact, I’d already heard rumors my ex was casually dating a soccer player, and that was cool. I hoped she was happy.
“Yeah,” I admitted as a hush fell over the room.
Don’t look at Maclain. Don’t do it. And yet, I could feel his eyes drilling into the side of my head.
“Does that mean you’re out on the prowl again?” Devers asked.
I snickered. “Was I ever out on the prowl? I mean, nobody can be like you or Maclain.” Goddamn it, I just couldn’t seem to help myself.
“Well, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it,” Maclain said right on cue, and Hollister groaned.
I shrugged. “No argument there.”
Devers launched into a story involving sneaking a girl into his hotel room at an away game last year, but I’d zeroed in on the rosy flush crawling over Maclain’s cheeks, highlighting his chestnut hair and green eyes. He’d expected me to lob an insult his way instead of saying something nice—if a little flirty. Shit, had that been flirty? What was I thinking? But as I glanced around the room, nobody else seemed to think anything unusual about my remark. Only Maclain did because, unless I’d been hallucinating, he’d jerked off in the shower and said my fucking name aloud.
And now I was sure my brain was going to explode. I gulped down more of my beer.
“Sorry to hear you guys broke up,” Hollister said, leaning over and squeezing my shoulder. He was one of the only guys with a long-term girlfriend, and from the looks of it, things were still going well for them.