Ryot.Bisley.Balls: But I want to finish the fantasy with you.
DrinkWithMe: I saw you on the television today. Looks like someone got a houser.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: LOL, not a houser . . . a homer, as in a home run.
DrinkWithMe: Huh, completely butchered that.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: It made me laugh.
DrinkWithMe: Are you happy? Celebrating? Suckling down a protein bar?
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: I’m actually out with Banner. He’s talking to some girl while I’m nursing a Coke Zero.
DrinkWithMe: Where are you at, Bisley?
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: The Benchwarmer.
DrinkWithMe: Looks like our stars are crossing once again.
RYOT
“As I live and breathe, Bisley Balls,” I hear Myla say as she approaches from behind.
I turn just in time to catch her checking out my backside before her eyes meet mine. Fuck, it’s been too fucking long since I’ve seen her, and this is a stark reminder of just how gorgeous she is. Teasing each other in our DMs over the past few weeks has been fun and helped me relax and not be so tense at the plate. But after the past couple of days, the tension has peaked, and now I’m so fucking horny. Seeing her has spiked that desire to get her naked in my bed.
“How did you ever find me?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips as I check her out.
Sexy nurse costume long gone, she’s now in a pair of fraying cutoffs and a crop top that shows off an inch of her stomach. Her hair is draped over her shoulders in soft waves. Her shorts and crop top accentuate her waist and chest. She truly knows how to play with her curves and make every man in this goddamn bar turn their head. Thank fuck she’s talking to me.
“How did I find you? Well, fate of course,” she says as she leans against the bar next to me.
I turn toward her and ask, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I would love that.” She grips her throat. “I’m completely parched.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” I lean over the bar and grab the bartender’s attention. “Could I have another Coke Zero for the lady?”
“Sure,” he answers and fills up a glass right in front of us before sliding it closer.
I thank him and then hand her the drink. She glances at it and then asks, “What the hell is this?”
“A drink. You never specified what you wanted.”
“There’s no alcohol in this.”
“Yeah, there’s no alcohol in mine either.”
She sips from the straw and asks, “Is this your version of fun?”
“Yeah. Have a problem with it? Because you didn’t have to come find me.”
“It’s not like I wanted to. I just had this overwhelming sense that you were in need of entertainment.” She glances at our drinks. “Clearly, I was right. Now come with me.” She grabs my hand and pulls me through the bustling crowd, past a few fans at the bar, and then toward the back where there’s a foosball table set up. She spins one of the poles and asks, “Have you ever foos-ed around?”
“Lame attempt at a joke.” I chuckle.
“Says the guy who’s laughing.” She sets her drink down on the edge and then picks up a soccer ball from one of the goals. “Get ready to have your ass annihilated.”
“Are you good?” I ask, setting my drink down as well and getting into position.
“Not even a little. But confidence wins games.”
“Oh yeah, didn’t know that.”
She taps the side of her head. “Stick with me, Bisley. I know a thing or two.” Then she drops the ball and starts spinning her poles, distracting me so much that I don’t realize the ball is sailing toward my goal until it clunks to the bottom. “Fuck, yes!” She pumps her arm into the air. “God, my nipples are hard.”
Because I’m a man, I glance down at her tits and see that her nipples are, in fact, hard.
When she catches me staring, she just smirks. “Get a good look?”
“Not nearly enough.”
“Feel free to stare all you want while I destroy you at this game.” She drops the ball and automatically starts spinning the poles, acting like a madwoman.
This time, I focus, and even though she’s giving it her best effort, I block three of her shots, shoot the ball past her players, and then snap it into her goal.
“Ooo, that feels good,” I say as I reach for my drink and bring it to my lips.
“You know, I would never have guessed you to be a gloater, but here we are.”
“And I pegged you for a sore loser, so guess I was right on that.”
She reaches for the ball. “Prepare for total domination.”
While I still have my drink in hand, she drops the ball, flicks her wrist, and scores. With a shimmy in my direction, her tits flying at me in the best way, she says, “Need some cleavage to cry on?”
“You’re something else.” I shake my head in humor.
She presses her hand to her chest. “Why, thank you.”
I reach for the ball just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. “Time out,” I say as I pull my phone out. When I see my agent, Roark’s, name on the screen, I say to Myla, “Hey, give me a second.”
“Sure.” She smiles and reaches for her drink as I step into a corner of the bar.
“Hey, Roark, what’s up?”
“Ryot, lad, how’s it goin’?” His heavy Irish lilt falls through the line.
“Good. Did you see the home run tonight?”
“I did. So did the Bobbies.” My ears perk up. My skin prickles. “Jones tore a muscle in his back tonight diving for a ball, so they’re calling you up.”
“Wait, what?” I ask. My heart’s beating so rapidly I can barely breathe.
“It’s your time, Ryot. You’re going pro.”
“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe into the phone. “Dude, you’re not kidding me? This is for real?”
“So real that you need to be on a red-eye tonight at eleven.”
I quickly glance at my phone to see the time. “That’s in three hours.”
“Yeah, so get packing.”
“Holy shit.” I grip my hair. “You’re fucking serious. This is happening?”
“This is happening, man.”
“Fuck, okay. I need . . . shit, I need to call my brother and pack.”
“Let me know if you need anything. I’m arranging housing for you as well as transportation. I’ll message you the details.”
“Thanks, Roark. Fuck, okay, I gotta go.”
“Talk soon. Cheers.”
We both hang up the phone, and I quickly dial Banner’s number. I pace the three-by-three space and pull on the short strands of my hair while I wait for Banner to pick up. After four rings, he answers, “This better be good.”
“They fucking called me up, man,” I say as my throat grows tight.
There’s silence, and then, “Fuck, are you serious?”
“Yes. I have a red-eye flight in three hours. I’m going to head back to the house now and pack. Dude, you’re coming, right?”
“You know I’ll follow you wherever you go. That’s the pact.”