That last one was completely understandable, right? We were acquaintances at best. We had one class in common last summer, and she had a crush on my teammate, and she thought my boyfriend was gay. And he was, but still…when she stopped calling me and coming to games, I honestly thought she’d moved on. Big mistake.
But Kendra was not on my radar at all. There was no room for anyone but Sky. I loved being with him. He was smart and funny, and he seemed to like my rough edges and warped sense of humor. And he was always game to get out and do something physical like hike Runyon Canyon, kayak in the bay, or just go to the park near his place in Orange and throw the baseball around. His roommate, Micah, invited himself to tag along a couple of times.
He was a little dopey, but he adored Sky…platonically speaking. If Sky gave him a tip about his balance or form, Micah stopped everything and listened. I met a couple of his other teammates at the batting cages once too. At first, I was bummed to share his time, but I was curious to see him around his guys. He’d made it seem like a rough transition back to normal after his hiatus, but that wasn’t my impression. His teammates respected his skills. Sky was crazy talented. He had a rocket for an arm, and he was a great hitter. And I do mean great. Their catcher, Javi, joined us one Saturday in early November. He pitched a couple of balls to Sky and threw his hands in the air after Sky hit five in row over the fence. Micah howled with glee when Sky ran imaginary bases in the deserted park.
I picked up the bat and chuckled. “Dude, don’t take it so hard. He’s pretty damn good.”
“He’s not bad,” Javi agreed.
“He’s fuckin’ awesome,” Micah corrected. “Better than Max the mo.”
Javi rounded on him menacingly. “Shut the fuck up, Micah.”
I cast a wary look between them. They were both over six feet with broad shoulders and big ass muscles. I wasn’t shy about jumping into a fight, but I had no idea what the hell it was about, and I had a game that night. I had to conserve my angst for the ice. Sky pushed them apart and glowered at them.
“What’s going on?”
“I called Max a homo. Big fuckin’ deal. It’s what he is. I have no respect for that shit,” Micah spat.
Sky shoved Micah hard enough that he almost fell on his ass. “You’d better fuckin’ find some respect, asshole. He’s one of us.”
Javi and Micah both stared at him incredulously like they couldn’t believe Sky would stick up for Max.
I mentioned it when we were loading his equipment into my trunk. I took a swig of water, clandestinely reading his expression for a clue when he took too long to answer. He looked angry, as though he was spoiling for fight.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, but that…” he pointed to the empty expanse of greenery beyond the parking lot. “That’s just a taste of next season. Micah’s an idiot, and idiots love to talk. It’s not gonna be pretty.”
“You know what you need?”
“Sex.”
“True, but that might have to wait, so let’s do the next best thing,” I suggested, bumping his arm before heading for the driver’s side.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going ice skating, baby.”
Siri hooked us up with a rink five minutes away in Anaheim. Sky didn’t say much on the short drive. He didn’t complain about my idea, but I figured that was because his mind was on other things. Crappy things he couldn’t control. I parked the car, then squeezed his hand.
“You know the problem with baseball players?”
Sky rolled his eyes. “No, what?”
“You have too much time to think. You sit around waiting for the action to get going, and your brain goes bonkers. If you played a real sport like hockey, you wouldn’t have a chance to think, you know what I mean?”
Sky looked down at our hands and at me. “You’re holding my hand.”
“So what? We don’t know anyone here. And I promise I won’t do it in the rink.”
“I wish you could,” he said softly before letting go to open his door.
I stared after him for a second, then grabbed my skates from the trunk and met him on the sidewalk. I joked around about how gross rental gear was while he strapped his boots on and laced them.
“Two words…foot fungus. Make that three words…athlete’s foot fungus. I hope your socks are thick. It’s bowling shoes times ten ’cause you know your feet are gonna sweat.”
“Why would my feet sweat?”
“ ’Cause you’re nervous,” I replied, leading the way to the ice.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re afraid you’re gonna fall and I get it, but don’t worry, I’ll catch you, baby.”