Third Base (The Boys of Summer 1)

Thursday is Daisy’s birthday.

“I have plans,” I blurt out.

Diamond stands firm with his hands on his hips, glaring at me. He glares at everyone. He’s the manager, it’s allowed. “Yes, you do... at the Rotary dinner. You were requested after Bainbridge so get your tux out, get it pressed and show up for dinner with a speech.”

I look over at Daisy; she’s too far away for me truly see what she’s doing, but I feel her eyes on me. “Can I bring a date?”

“As long as she’s not a hooker.” He slaps me on the arm and laughs as he walks toward the dugout.

Well shit, this is great. I had plans to do something with Daisy and can only hope she’ll agree to go with me. If not, I’ll have to meet her after, if she’d even feel like going out later. My good mood is now soured by a baseball commitment. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s how things go around here. Even our off days are baseball days. And organizations plan events around our calendar so we can attend. They use our names and the fact that we’re appearing as a way to sell tickets. We could essentially send one of the guys down the totem pole of the forty-man roster, but people aren’t paying to meet him. They pay to meet players like me.

I step up to the plate and wait. Each swing is powerful and balls are flying out of the park, much to the fans pleasure. I usually hit like shit when I’m angry. Maybe this is a sign that I’m not pissed off, but looking forward to a night with Daisy – who, mind you, would have to be dressed up. The thought of Daisy in a dress sends me into overdrive.

If I can continue to think about her in a dress, and maybe with that dressed hiked up over her hips as she lies on my bed after the party, I may bat for the cycle tonight... or hit three homeruns. That would be something considering I’ve yet to do that in my major league career.

Despite my s

tellar batting performance we only won by one run. That win puts us at thirteen and ten – not anywhere near where I thought we’d be this early in the season. Athletes go into their new season with expectations. GM Stone made some solid off-season trades and drafted well. On paper, we should be number one. However, the standings do not show that. I can’t let the rankings get to me though. I have a job to do.

Tonight, Daisy is meeting me in front of the fan store across the street from the stadium. It’s a good thing she texted that suggestion to me because I forgot to send an usher to get her. That’s probably why she’s across the street – all because I forgot. This time when I go to meet her, my hair is dry and I’m dressed for the weather, although it’s fairly calm out. My jeans hang off my waist and my crisp black button down sits perfectly. I left my jacket in my car, not that I need it right now. I’m hoping for a walk along the harbor where she’ll need me to keep her warm.

As I step out of the stadium, a few fans approach me and ask for my autograph. I sign their memorabilia and pose for a quick picture before I excuse myself. The store is busy and mostly everyone is dressed the same. Being tall has its advantages, and this is one of them...I’m able to scan the crowd for the one person I want to see. I weave throughout the crowd, waving when my name is called and smiling when I’m patted on the back and told ‘good job’. I’m starting to panic when I don’t find her and head back to the entrance so I can go outside and call her.

That’s when I see her. Right inside the entrance, off to the left, is one of our old seats. It’s there for display and clearly says No Sitting, but Daisy seems to be hell bent on breaking that rule. As soon as we make eye contact everything around me freezes. The boisterous laughter that follows a win is silenced. It’s just the two of us in this store. No one else exists as I walk toward her. I have a feeling she’s been watching me since I stepped into the store. “Hey,” I say, as she stands to meet me. My hand is instantly on her hip, sliding underneath her jersey which bears my name. The feel of her bare skin against mine stirs a plethora of feelings inside me. It’s intense. If she doesn’t feel the connection like I do, then I’m screwed. I thought I was in love with Sarah, but what I’m feeling for Daisy right now is so much more. I never felt like this with Sarah.

With Daisy, my heart races just from being near her, or just with the knowledge that I’m going to see her. My palms sweat and the anticipation of knowing I’ll be gazing into her eyes has me on edge. It’s a good edge, one that I want to be on.

“I’m sorry I forgot to send an usher for you. Tomorrow, you won’t have to worry. I’ll make sure you have a pass to get into the wives’ lounge.” The fact that I just said ‘wives’ lounge’ doesn’t even faze me. I want her there when I come up. I want to see her waiting for me.

“It’s okay,” she says, as her hand finds mine. I want nothing more than to kiss her right now, but this isn’t the place. Us being here, touching like this isn’t good for her. Fans can be relentless with taunting and I’m only setting her up by acting like a fool in lust… love… in public with her.

“Let’s go.” There’s more to talk about, but not here. In the privacy of my car, or her place, or mine - any other location is better as long as we don’t have an audience.

I pull her behind me through the parking lot. Her smaller strides make it seem like she’s running. I really need to slow down for her. When we reach my SUV, I’m pulling us both in between my car and the one next to mine. There’s slightly more privacy here, but not much. Video cameras overhead capture everything. With her back pressed against my car, my arms lock her in.

“I like you, Daisy.”

“I can tell.”

Not the response I was hoping for, but I’ll go with it.

“I want to kiss you. Would that be okay?”

Her eyes travel to my lips and back to my eyes. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. These simple gestures from her have me getting hard just thinking about what I want to do to her.

“Yes,” she whispers huskily. She wants this as bad as I do, but not here. Not when people are watching.

“Later,” I say with a satisfied smirk, kissing her forehead. It actually physically pains me to have to put this off, but she’s going to have to trust that I’m doing this for her and not because I’m a giant piece of shit. I open the car door and help her get in before running around to the other side. Once I’m in, I reach for her hand and as much as I want to put her hand in my lap, the space in my car is too great, leaving our hands in the middle on the console.

“That was mean,” she says as we pull out onto the streets.

“What was?”

“That almost kiss you gave me. Teasing isn’t nice.”

Teasing isn’t nice? Is she serious? Doesn’t she realize that each day I see her she’s teasing the shit out of me with the way she walks, smells, and bats her damn eyes? When she smiles, the sight of her dimple hits me right in the groin.

When we get to a stoplight, I turn and look at her. “I thought you’d much prefer our first kiss to be a bit more private. I know I would because I don’t plan to just kiss you, Daisy.” I bring her hand to my mouth and press my lips to her skin, never taking my eyes off of her.