Bat Boy (Easton U Pirates 1)

“See?” Coach said. “Told you we could pull out a good season if we just put our minds to it. Kellan, how about on-base average?”

After I rambled off more stats, Donovan did that silly cheer—it was sort of cute too—and then they were out the door, all except Hollister, Donovan, and an outfielder named Sinclair, who lingered, discussing some major-league game they’d caught last night.

I cut the lights and started toward the door, hoping to skirt by them, when I felt a solid arm slide across my shoulder. I held back a shiver.

Fucking Brady Donovan.

“We’re gonna meet the team at Geordie’s for pizza and beer. Wanna join us?” Geordie’s was the restaurant on campus where most students congregated because it was cheap and usually fast. The pizza booths were in front, and there was a bar in the back that turned into a dance club on weekend nights. I’d spent my share of nights in there out of boredom, either with Jasmine, or with the team a couple of times—once with the coaches tagging along after an awesome win, so they paid the tab—but those were few and far between because again, I was towing some imaginary line.

“No, thanks,” I said, trying to steady my voice. Why did he smell so good? Probably his soap, duh. “Gonna grab some leftovers at home with my roommate.”

“Okay.” He sighed dramatically for effect, and I bit back a grin. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Hollister shook his head, likely because Brady was corny as fuck, or maybe Hollister didn’t understand why Brady was constantly trying to include me. Of course, I’d already figured out why.

But I also wondered if he actually just liked me for me. A guy could dream. All those confusing thoughts were jumbled together in my brain as I basked in his warm, solid presence resting against me.

Though his arm was getting heavy like a tree trunk. At least that’s what I told myself. I ducked under his elbow to get away. “Maybe next time.”

5

Brady

I sat down at the end of a table with some teammates and their girlfriends in the student center. The place was called the Greenhouse because the top part of the building was all glass.

I’d just gotten lunch from one of the fast-food places the university offered, and I really needed to look at my notes again in case my biology professor had another pop quiz scheduled. I hadn’t done well on the last one, so this time I wanted to be prepared. I needed to squeak out at least a few B’s, not only to please my parents, but to make sure my transcripts reflected my effort. A’s were even rarer for me, always had been, so I had to study extra hard to manage my grade point average.

I was going to guess someone naturally smart like Kellan barely had to study anything. It was the same for Ricky, though he struggled with written papers and oral presentations when the topic wasn’t related to something he enjoyed. But he had awesome accommodations that Mom had fought for at his school, and that helped.

Girard finished his sandwich and got up from the table to get to his next class. Maclain barely looked up when Girard reached for his girlfriend’s hand, said his goodbyes, and they walked off together. I thought back to our losing game the other day and how Girard and Maclain went at it. Jesus, they were going to get kicked out of the game or benched by Coach someday. It was surprising they hadn’t already. But they’d come close. Those two had been like oil and vinegar since their first game together, both too proud or foolish to back down.

I was just digging into my food when I noticed a certain adorable guy walking next to his roommate as they decided what to eat. Kellan was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of tight jeans, which was different from his standard garb of black baseball pants and gold Pirates jersey for the field. But I didn’t want my teammates to think I was checking him out, so I looked down at my plate of nachos and shoveled more cheese into my mouth.

“Hey, look, there’s your boy,” Maclain said, motioning toward the long line at the burger counter. “Bet he stocked up on extra gummies for you.”

Before I could offer a retort, Hollister threw Maclain a warning look.

“What? It’s true.” Maclain shrugged. “Probably got a crush on our team captain. Donovan is so nice and such a good guy.”

Where in the hell was this coming from? And little did they know it was the other way around. Honestly, I was too on edge the other day in the locker room with him and Girard circling each other like bloodhounds to flesh out what Girard had said about Kellan always having my favorites in stock. But now that I was thinking about it… Did they all feel that way? And why draw attention to it now?