My anger simmered, threatening to explode. Logan was a cocky asshole who barely deserved to cast a shadow on the grass we stepped on.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I said as the ball sailed my way, and I easily caught it before throwing it hard to second base for the cutoff.
“You and I both know I should be starting over you. You’ve had a shitty time at the plate, and I don’t see that ending anytime soon.” He was poking the proverbial bear, and he knew it. Logan knew if he was going to talk shit, to do it where it counted. “Coach will get sick of it and yank you. Watch. I give it two more games. Three, tops.”
My heart spun in my fucking chest. It was my worst fear, being pulled from the lineup and forced to watch the games from the bench, but I couldn’t let Logan know that. I had to make him think I wasn’t worried. “It’s not my fault you’re not good enough to play here. Should have gone to a different school. Maybe a D2 university, so you would have had a better shot at starting.”
Telling someone they weren’t good enough to be playing at the top D1 level was a low blow. It felt like a win even if it was short-lived.
“Fuck you, Anders,” Logan fired from behind me, and I grinned to myself, knowing I’d struck a chord.
“Nah, I’m good,” I said without turning around.
I fielded a ground ball this time and threw it at home plate to Chance. It reached on one bounce, low and perfect at the plate for a potential tagged out. I heard a few of my teammates whistle in response.
“Heard Christina’s done with you. That was fun to watch. I’m thinking about asking her out. She seems feisty,” Logan said as we switched positions, and he stepped in front of me, waiting to take his turn.
The idea of Logan touching Christina made my blood go straight from simmering to a strong boil. I bit the inside of my cheek to stay focused and to stop myself from tackling him to the fucking ground and beating him senseless. No matter what instigating and vile things came of Logan’s mouth, I would be the one who got in trouble if I did that.
Coach Jackson had no tolerance for fighting between teammates, especially over girls. It wasn’t something he warned in vain to keep us all in line, but something he followed through on as well. I’d seen him do it my freshman year. When two of the guys on the team had fought over some chick, Coach had benched them both. During playoffs. We lost that year.
He’d followed up his decision with a speech that started with, “No pussy coming between my players,” which of course forced us to all fight back laughter, and ended with, “You have all the time in the world to let females ruin your life. You don’t have that with baseball. Get your head in the game or get off my field.”
Teammates didn’t poach on their teammates’ exes. It went without saying that if one of us had dated a girl, she was off-limits to the rest of us. But then again, Christina and I had never officially been together, so those rules didn’t necessarily apply. An ex-girlfriend was one thing, but hooking up wasn’t. And if they weren’t even remotely on the same level, then why did I feel so betrayed?
“If you want my sloppy seconds, be my guest.” It was rude as shit, and I didn’t mean a single word of it, but Logan was trying to rattle me, and I couldn’t let him know just how badly he had.
“I think I will,” he said before Coach Jackson waved us in. We started jogging toward the dugout, and he turned to offer one last dig. “I won’t ask for permission when I steal your position next.”
This motherfucker thinks he’s going to steal my girl and my position? Over my dead body.
Guys in Bands
Christina
The party had left me rattled emotionally. Seeing Cole had broken the proverbial cage I’d kept him in the past seven months wide open and obliterated it to pieces. It had been made of cheap plastic anyway, so it really was to be expected. But now, he was out in the open again, free to torment my days. I’d tossed and turned in the three nights since I last saw him, sleep eluding me as I replayed our interaction, angry that I was back in this fucked up, emotional place again.
I was pissed at myself. For going to the party, for letting Lauren suggest the idea, and for me agreeing that it was a good one. I had known that seeing Cole could potentially wreck me. Okay, I hadn’t known, but I’d damn well suspected that could be the case. Sucking in a breath, I resisted my own thoughts. I was not wrecked. Cole did not wreck me. He’d stopped having that ability months ago, and I was not some weak girl who couldn’t get over a guy.
Although, to be fair, him grabbing my face and kissing me like he actually missed me could have been so much hotter if it had actually meant something. But it hadn’t. It was just more of his games. More of his bullshit. More things to add to my list of What Not to Look for in a Guy. I mean, if I’d had a list like that in the first place.
A quick knock on my bedroom door had me looking up.
“Are you almost ready to go?” Lauren asked, her purse and notebook in her hand.
Glancing down at my feet to make sure I had shoes on, I nodded. “Yep. One sec,” I said as I pushed off the bed and made my way into my bathroom for a quick swish of mouthwash. I avoided overanalyzing the fact that my eyes looked tired and that I wasn’t skilled enough in makeup techniques to cover the light bags that had started to appear underneath them.
“You didn’t sleep again, did you?” Lauren asked as soon as I exited my room and met her in the hallway.
“I did,” I lied, and she gave me an eye roll. “Just not very much.”
“This is all my fault,” she groaned as she walked toward the front door and held it open for me to go through before locking it behind us.
“It isn’t. And I swear, I’m not trying to not sleep. I want to sleep. I want it so bad. I think it’s avoiding me because I keep chasing it so hard,” I said with a sick laugh, realizing the irony and apparent theme of my life.
“Well, if it makes you feel better,” she said as we walked into the brisk morning air, “there’s a live band playing at The Bar tonight. I think we should go.”
The Bar was literally the name of the bar across the street from campus where everyone who was old enough to drink hung out. If you were underage, you could definitely get away with using a good fake ID in there, but if you didn’t have one, you weren’t allowed on the premises.
“It’s Wednesday,” I argued as her car chirped to life as we neared it. “Who goes out on a Wednesday?”
“We’re in college. We can go out any day.” She smiled. “And I might know one of the guys in the band.” Her cheeks crimsoned as she dropped into the driver’s seat and out of view.
“Wait.” I opened the door and sat quickly, fastening my seat belt. “You might know one of the guys in the band? Either you do or you don’t.”
She waved me off as she started the engine, her lips pressed together tight.
“Oh my gosh. You have a crush on some dude in a band!” I practically shouted because it was so unlike her.
“Why are you yelling? I’m right here. And I don’t have a crush on him. I barely know him,” she tried to argue, and I laughed.
“You don’t have to know someone to think they’re hot,” I teased as she navigated the short drive to campus. “Wait,” I said before remembering a conversation we’d had. “Doesn’t a guy in a band go against all your safety rules?” I started to ask as it all came rushing back to me. “Yeah,” I said, holding up one finger. “They never stay in one place for long, so if they commit a crime, they have the potential for getting away with it.” Holding up a second finger, I added, “Two, they have access to drugs that other people might not and are willing to use them to their benefit.” I said, adding a third finger in the air, “And three, no one stops a girl from going off with a guy in a band because they all assume she’s a willing participant. So, basically, anything bad could happen, and no one would believe her.”