Rules of Play (The Script Club 2)

At that point in life, I was grateful I’d finally grown into my body. My arms were beefed up, and I’d actually had enough scruff on my chin to warrant a daily shave. My home life kinda sucked, but I had a great group of buddies and according to my coaches, I had serious potential for a shot at the pros in two sports…football or baseball.

And get this…girls liked me. I didn’t have to do much to get laid. Sometimes all it took was a passing glance across a crowded room and hello…happy time. I had it pretty damn good.

But for some reason, Simon’s little brother George intimidated the fuck out of me. It made no sense. He was, for all intents and purposes, a nerd. Not the normal kind either. George didn’t dress up for Dungeons and Dragons or bore you to tears with Star Trek trivia. He was a literary nerd. He devoured books the way my friends and I devoured pizza…with fierce intensity and an endless appetite. One down, on to the next. And when he finished a particularly memorable book, he’d sit quietly as if digesting every word.

He’d been absorbed as usual that morning. I figured he might not have noticed me until I moved into his space, mumbling a casual, “Hey, G.” I’d grazed his arm as I’d reached to grab the orange juice and—boom! Boner alert. Yes, folks…that was me packing a python behind basic boxer briefs and thin gray sweats. It was im-fucking-possible to ignore. He had to notice. I was not…I repeat—not a small man.

I’d cast a surreptitious glance at my bulge, hoping to come up with a funny exit speech, when I realized I wasn’t alone in my rogue wood issue. George sported an impressive erection in his flimsy cotton pajama bottoms. And his beet-red cheeks indicated he knew he’d been caught. However, since he wasn’t the pervert I was, he hadn’t noticed I was in the same state. Phew!

I’d needed to get out of there fast but hadn’t wanted to make things uncomfortable, so I’d mussed his hair and said something like, “You’re funny, ya little weirdo.”

Somehow, it became our inside joke. I’d ruffle his hair, he’d flip me off, we’d go our separate ways, and balance would return to the planet. No harm, no foul. Eleven years later, he still had no idea I had a thing for him.

Not a gay thing. Just…a thing.

I had to admit, though, George was a good-looking guy. Tall, dark, broody, and—he was talking.

“Tell me about your idea. You want to analyze…baseball?” he asked.

I took another sip before pushing my beer aside. “Yep.”

“I thought you gave up baseball a while ago.”

I shook my head. “I never gave up. I just had to readjust my thinking when the scouts stopped coming to my games and my phone quit ringing. I had to put the dream aside to pay my bills, ya know?”

“You don’t like being a mechanic?”

“I like it fine. I’m good with my hands and I’ve always liked tinkering with engines, but the thought of doing this for the rest of my life doesn’t excite me. It was always my hobby. Now it’s a necessity, and working for my uncle isn’t great,” I huffed. That was the understatement of the century. I set the glass on the bar with a thump, nudging his knee as I twisted to face him. “I feel like I’m standing still while my friends are out there living their best lives. It’s frustrating as fuck.”

“Oh. And you’re ready to make a change.”

“I am. A couple of years ago, I saw an ad for online sports management classes and decided to take one. It started out as a way to stay connected to sports, but it’s become a little more than that.”

“A job.”

“Not yet. But that’s my goal. I want to do something I’m passionate about. Kinda like you with space stuff. You love what you do, right?”

George nodded. “Yes.”

“I want that. Sounds dramatic when I say this out loud, but I want to reclaim part of my dream. Baseball is a happy place for me. It’s a full sensory experience. I love the sight of the field, the smell of spring and summer, the feel of a glove on my hand, and the tingle of anticipation when I’m waiting for a play to unfold.”

“That can take a while in baseball, huh?”

“Ha. Ha. Look, I can’t describe it, but it’s special. And there’s more to the game than what happens on a field. You gotta have smarts.” I tapped my temple meaningfully.

“I suppose that’s where I come in,” he teased.

“Well…yes.”

“You’re in trouble, then. I only know the basics about baseball.” George cradled his chin on his palm and made a funny face. “I guess we’re back to blowjobs.”

I shifted on my barstool, bumping his elbow off the bar. “Very funny. Stay with me, genius. I could use your math skills to double-check my work.”