Dirty Curve

“Where you running off to in such a hurry?”

My shoes squeak against the freshly polished floor, and I jerk my head right to find Coach leaning against the door to the equipment room. “Tutoring, Coach.”

He looks to the clock on the wall, slowly sliding back to mine. “You know your grades fell in two classes according to Friday’s check-in, but the books show you had double the sessions last week ... you sure you’re getting your times’ worth?”

“Yes, Coach, I am.”

Squinting, he nods. “I take it Meyer’s not giving you any more problems?”

“Nah.” My lips curve. “She’s coming around.”

Slowly, but more and more every time.

“She must have, being it’s after nine and you two have an appointment.” He tips his head, eyeing me.

“Hey” —I toss my keys up in the air, catching them in my open palm— “you said take all the time I want, right?”

“I said take all the time you need.”

My forehead pinches with a slight frown, but I laugh it off when his grin slips, and he pushes off the wall.

“Glad you’re dedicated, son.” His hand comes up, clamping onto my shoulder. “After UNR, we’ve got a tough team coming, and midterms will follow.”

A thought hits and I spin to face him. “About that ...”

q

Meyer

Tobias gets set, sending the ball flying into the fence that’s just over sixty feet away before bending to pick up another. He cuts me a glance over his shoulder, grinning when he catches me watching. “How much longer do we have?”

I tug my fingers free from Bailey’s and tap on my phone screen. “Ten minutes to pack up, twenty until I have to be at the school.”

He nods, goes back to throwing the ball a few more times before rushing to clean up his mess.

My hands holding hers, Bailey stands in my lap, jumping lightly on her feet and making little screaming sounds just to hear her own voice.

As Tobias comes back, he dusts his hands on his jeans and reaches over, lifting her into his arms and up over his head. He carries her over to his bag, bending to reach inside, and pulls out a ball. Holding it out in front of her, he says something I can’t hear, and her little hands find their way to it. Straight into her mouth it goes.

Tobias laughs, but his head quickly snaps my way. “It’s a toy one, can’t hurt her,” he rushes out.

My smile is slow, but I quickly turn away, pouring my focus into packing up my things.

A tingling sensation sweeps through my arms and legs.

He thought of her when he wasn’t with me, as he did when he knew she existed for a whole five seconds. As he did last week when he went out in search of this park. It’s a few miles from campus, full of shaded trees and an empty field, a place he can get some practice that allows me quiet time with her, and a little schoolwork mixed in, as he put it.

And then there was last night.

He insisted on picking me up from work, and when he did, he had a pizza from Franny and Joe’s with him, hoping to get to stick around for a little while. I couldn’t, didn’t want to tell him no, but when we got there, Bailey heard me come in and woke up. He knew my time was short with her earlier that day, so without my saying a word, he walked back out the door. It took some convincing, but I got him to agree to take his pizza with him. Of course, he texted me ten minutes later and told me he left it on the porch and Franny would be upset if I let it go to waste.

All I could do was smile at the screen, as I find myself doing every time I think of him.

My body grows weighted and warm.

To the others on campus and every other person who bet on what the media claims, he’s the Playboy Pitcher with a one-track mind, loose belt and looser morals. The egomaniac who thrives on press and publicity, and yeah, he might be some of those things.

He might be all of those things, Meyer.

My throat grows thick, and I swallow past the offset tethering of dread and hope.

He might be all of those things.

He might go out, taking all he’s offered, and he’s offered a lot. It’s no secret girls chase bragging rights. A gold mine.

A good time.

I did.

He might be everything people say.

Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes find him and Bailey.

He’s got her in one arm, his glove and ball bucket in the other as he walks to his truck. He sets his things in the back, and then his free hand goes right back to her.

He lets her push the ball toward his mouth and plays along as she wants, fake biting it and tapping her head with the bill of his hat.