The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game 1)

“Yeah, Kitten. Sorry for calling so early. I just wanted you to know how much I love you. ”

I am such a pussy.

“I love you too. ” Her voice was perfect. She was perfect. I couldn’t lose her.

My stomach balled into knots. “Go back to bed. I love you. I’ll call you later,” I said, swallowing the baseball-sized lump in my throat.

She giggled. “Night, Jack. Congratulations again on your perfect game. I’m really proud of you. ”

“Thanks, babe. Bye. ” I pressed End, squeezed my eyes shut, and buried my head in my hands, wishing I could bury the guilt instead.

How could I undo this? Cass couldn’t ever know this happened. I’d do anything to make sure of that. I vowed to never drink excessively again. I’d never put myself in that kind of a position where I could willingly be so stupid. Anger quickly filtered through my pain as I remembered the girl sleeping in my bed. I stormed into my room before slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

“Get the fuck up and get out,” I shouted. She was on her stomach, sprawled spread-eagle over three-quarters of the bed. Still naked. Shit.

Chrystle moved slightly, her eyes opening to look at me. “What? Why are you so angry?” She whined and it made her even more annoying.

“Get out. ” I reached across the bed, grabbing her by the forearm and pulling.

“Ow, Jack, jeez! I’ll get up. What’s your problem?” She sat up, not bothering to pull up the sheet to cover her nakedness, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at me.

“You’re my problem. Get out of my bedroom. Get out of my apartment. Get out of my life,” I demanded, my attitude void of any respect or kindness.

“You sure weren’t saying that last night,” she commented coyly and my temper flared.

“Get out or I will throw you out. ”

“Sounds like foreplay. ” She bit her bottom lip suggestively and my stomach churned.

“For a twisted slut, maybe. ” I scowled darkly and flung venom-filled words designed to hurt her.

“Oh, so now I’m a slut?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to wriggle back into her clothes from last night.

“I’m sure you were always a slut,” I responded coolly.

“Well, you sure as hell weren’t complaining last night. And I’m sure you won’t complain again soon. ” Her confidence oozed through an arrogant smile.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t fuck the same girl twice. Not really my style. ” In desperation, I went for my worst asshole tone of voice.

“We’ll see,” she said smugly before heading out my door and closing it behind her.

I tore the sheets from my bed and threw them in the corner, half tempted to light the damn things on fire. I opened the window as far as it would go, trying to air out the sick smell of sex from my room. Images of my idiocy replayed in my mind and I wished I could reach through my head and rip them from my skull.

I walked down the hall to turn the shower on, my reflection in the mirror forcing me to stop short. I turned to face myself, my bloodshot brown eyes staring back at me. I balled my hand into a fist and lunged toward the mirror, stopping just short of striking it.

You idiot! You pitched a perfect game last night. A perfect game in baseball. And then you almost took your perfect relationship and flushed it down the toilet. This is your future, you asshole. Don’t ever be that careless with your future again.

SIXTEEN

CASSIE

The last few weeks of summer flew by as the fall semester approached. The magazine extended my internship and I convinced my mom to let me keep the car, promising that I wouldn’t use it to do anything crazy other than drive back and forth to the magazine offices. She was reluctant at first, but when I screamed that she was ruining my life, she relented. I’d have to use that tactic more often.

Jack would be home shortly, depending on if his team made playoffs or not. I’d fallen into a comfortable routine of working and reading while he’d been away, surpassing my self-imposed goal of getting through twenty books in the summer. The Opportunist was my twenty-fifth and I was completely engrossed in the story, wishing the main character’s mental anguish on no one…except maybe the sorority girls who enjoyed making my life hell.

I walked through the door of our apartment and shouted Melissa’s name. No response. I tossed my purse and car keys onto the counter before opening up the refrigerator door and grabbing a bottle of water. My cell phone rang, blaring Jack’s song, and I sprinted to reach for it.

“Hey!” I answered with a smile in my voice.