Quit Your Pitchin' (There's No Crying in Baseball 2)

His mouth shifted into a smile, and that was when I realized that I was staring at him with my mouth open.

I closed it and looked away.

“Are my nipples showing?” I whisper hissed.

Diamond glanced over, smirked, and then shook her head. “Not at all.”

Relieved, I turned my head back to the game—or more accurately to the man in the circle thing—and nearly swallowed my tongue when I found him staring at me with a smirk on his face.

His eyes dropped down to my shirt, and then his smile grew wider.

I looked down and realized that I didn’t see my nipples. But, it didn’t matter. With the sheer white shirt I was wearing, you could see my bra.

Which was fucking lace.

“Goddammit, Diamond,” I grumbled under my breath. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you could see my bra through this shirt?”

Diamond tore her gaze away from the game to glance at my shirt then said, “Huh.”

I rolled my eyes.

Diamond was exceptionally unobservant. Exceptionally.

Which made me goddamn stupid for even asking her for her thoughts in the first place.

I seriously needed to invest in a vanity mirror that lit me up and showed me all my flaws, because I sure as fuck wasn’t going to trust my sister ever again.

The man probably thought I was a slut puppy at this point!

“You’re such a whore,” I muttered under my breath. “A freakin’ filthy whore.”

“This whore is watching your new man bat. Shut up.”

I sighed and turned my attention toward the man that was making my heart race every time I looked at him—which happened to be why I was avoiding doing just that.

But, when he was up to bat, I got to check his ass out when he wasn’t paying attention to me.

It felt like the other times I gave him my full attention, he always knew. He’d look up, and catch my eyes on him ninety-nine times out of one hundred.

The pitcher launched the ball to George, and the ump hooted. The crowd booed.

“What was that?” I whispered to my sister.

“That was a ball the umpire called as a strike,” she answered, never pulling her attention away from George.

The pitcher threw another pitch, and the umpire made a different sound this time. “Was that a good sound or a bad?”

“That was a ball. Good for George,” she answered tonelessly.

The next pitch happened so fast that I could barely track the ball, and George swung.

How he’d even seen it was beyond me, but I heard the crack of the ball hitting the bat, and lost track of the ball moments later.

“Heads up!” somebody beside me yelled.

I automatically looked up and saw nothing but sunshine.

I closed my eyes, ducked my head and winced.

Moments later I felt something brush hard against my leg, causing me to curse and look down.

The baseball bounced between my feet, and my mouth fell open.

I looked up to find George’s eyes—eyes filled with horror—on me.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

George’s lips twitched.

Today we weren’t in the same area of the field as we’d been the last game. Today, we were behind the stupid netting. Netting that was supposed to protect me from balls!

We were just as close to the field, only directly behind the base thing that George was currently standing at to hit.

He’d heard everything. I knew he did.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have reacted to my words.

I bent down and grabbed the stupid ball, then crossed my arms and glared.

George winked, and I found my lips twitching in amusement.

Then, as if I didn’t have control of my body, I blew him a kiss.

Yes, you read that correctly. I blew him a fucking kiss.

I was such a dumbass!

But, before I could so much as be embarrassed by my rash move, George fucking caught the kiss and pressed it to his mouth.

Then he turned and awaited the next pitch.

The pitch was a ‘ball.’

The next? The next was apparently launched straight down the middle, according to my sister.

But, as I watched with excitement as George connected with the ball and it sailed over the fence, I was excited for an altogether different reason.

I’d witnessed my first home run ever, and I was officially addicted to baseball.

Or maybe it was the man.

I didn’t know.

But addiction was in there somewhere.Chapter 3That moment when you realize that it’s your girl yelling at the ump.

-Why George smiles all the time.

George

My good luck charm was in her seat.

In my seats, actually, but for all intents and purposes, they were now hers.

My brother could suck a nut and buy his own goddamn seats.

Who wasn’t in the seat beside her was her sister, and that made me curious.

But, since the game had started and phones were banned in the dugout, I couldn’t text her to find out why she wasn’t in her seat.

Though, she didn’t know who I was. Yet.