Scoring With Him (Men of Summer 1)

That’s not because she could never be a lover.

At least, I don’t believe the absence of physical attraction is a requirement for a man and a woman to be friends. Maybe it’s that Emma’s friendship was exactly the safe landing I needed at that point in my life after the tumultuous end to high school, and the stupid mistakes I made.

But mostly, I think we glommed onto each other because that’s who she is. A warm, wonderful person who didn’t judge my past. Who just wants to love me for me.

She’s a pure, true friend.

Maybe the first one I’ve had in my life.

My chest tightens but I keep the emotions reined in. I keep it all under control, recalling more T.S. Eliot.

* * *

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all . . .

* * *

I think of college. The reasons I needed that class. Memories swirl past me of my father, moments upon moments I wanted to undo. All those times he showed up to my games clutching a beer, shouting my name, waving drunkenly as I stepped up to the plate in middle school, in high school.

Wincing, I try to shake away the images of teammates. Parents. Umps. Their feeling sorry for me faces. Ones I saw over and over again.

Then, those memories tunnel down to me. To what I did. How I nearly tanked my own career when I was seventeen.

But I didn’t, thanks to my mom, to Emma, to T.S. Eliot. But my God, I don’t like anyone to know how I nearly lost the best thing I ever had.

I reroute to the present, to Emma, to what she said about Grant. “Do you think anyone can tell?”

“Nah, you’ve got me as your buffer. Use me,” she says playfully.

I don’t want her to think that’s why she’s here. She might play a necessary part tonight, but I need her now and always. “Please say you know that’s not the reason you’re in my life?”

“I know, Declan. I know. But if I can help you, I will.”

“So, you don’t feel used? I’d hate it if you felt that way.”

She shakes her head adamantly. “I feel essential to your life. And I love it, my friend. Don’t forget. I’m here for you.” She sets her head on my shoulder and I pet her hair gently.

“Means a lot to me.”

She lifts her head, and a few seconds later, Grant returns, flashing me a smile that latches into my soul. That lights me up. That makes my fingertips tingle. My God, the desire to touch him, to slide a hand along his thigh, to wrap an arm around him—it’s so fucking powerful.

He’s one in a million, all right.

It’s not even the way he looks. It’s everything about him.

I have got to get it under control or I’m going to be staring at him like a starving cartoon character lusting after a turkey leg.

“Bond, James Bond,” Grant says in his terrible English accent.

“Slash.”

Emma lifts her head, laughing. “And I’m Maverick from Top Gun. Also, for the record, we just attained major dork status right now.”

“We so did,” Grant says. And as the third period begins, she drapes one arm around me, the other around Grant, and squeezes us.

Right then, the Cougars fan in front whips her head around again, asks, “Can I take a pic of all of you? I am such a huge Cougars fan.”

“Of course,” I say. Emma tucks the three of us a little closer and we smile for the camera. The seats in front of us are empty, giving the woman a clean shot. She snaps the pic.

Then she nibbles on the corner of her lips, points to me then to Grant. “Do you mind if I just get a picture of the two of you? The guys on the team?”

I pause for a second.

Pictures of the two of us. These are going to go online. These are going to be posted.

“Why don’t we take a picture with you in it?” I ask.

Her gray eyes widen. “Oh my God. That’d be amazing.” She climbs over the seat, switches with Emma, and Emma takes a picture of the three of us.

Just two pals.

Two baseball players. Flanking a fan. That’s all this is.

That’s all this can ever be, and I’d do well to remember that.

When the game ends, we find Fitz and hang out with him for a little bit at the arena. He and Grant chat about the game and when we leave, I offer to take Emma to her hotel.

She says yes.

In the car, Grant opens his phone, says he’s going to check Instagram, and finds the picture the woman snapped. He shows it to Emma and me at a light. “It’s no big deal. It’s just you and me and a fan.”