Caught (13 page)

A Whole New Ballgame

Top of the 1
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Chace

Watching her walk away as if nothing was wrong made me realize that things were about to get even more fucked up.  Quinn and I at the same college is something unexpected.  I was counting on a little distance to clear my head.  Instead I’ve just found myself in a whole new ballgame.

I shake my head, hoping to somehow clear my thoughts.  It’s a vain attempt, because as I continue on towards my next class, my mind reels with the potential chaos that could ensue.  I just need to get through the rest of my classes, then it will be time for the mandatory work out at the gym with the rest of the team.  I haven’t had that much interaction with them yet, so the jury’s still out, but I am looking forward to distracting myself with some sweat and mindless movement.

I manage to make it through my next class without driving myself crazy.  The questions and thoughts traveling through my head at warp speed are enough to send me spinning.  Why was she here?  Why did she lie?  The
what if’s
, and
maybe she’s
are too much, and by the time I make it through my dorm room door I am already stripping off my clothes and searching for my workout gear.  I just figure I’ll head to the gym early and get a run in.  It’s much better than the alternative, which is sitting in this little box of a room and continuing on with the insane back and forth game I am fighting within myself.   I throw on some shorts and a t-shirt before quickly shoving my shoes on my feet and lacing them up.  I grab my iPhone and headphones before leaving.  Locking the door, I shove the earbuds into my ears and attempt to lose myself in the music as I make my way across campus to the gym.

Unfortunately for me, the music doesn’t help, and instead my mind is invaded by images of the summer.  They’re quick but not painless. The content of them shifts, just as my feelings have.  Innocent at first, then full of heat and desire.  As the image of Quinn in the shower pops into my head again, my feet pick up the pace, and I find myself jogging.  

The sweat is starting to bead on my forehead as I approach the gym.  I see a guy wearing a BC Baseball sweatshirt open the door and glance in my direction.  He closes the door and stops, waiting at the entrance.  Great.  Human interaction is definitely not high on my list at the moment, but this guy is on my team.  Time to put on a show, Chace.

My jog comes to a halt as I stop in front of the door.  The guy smiles at me and says, “You’re Chace Donahue.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He sticks his hand out and I shake it once before releasing.  “Name’s Steven Thompson.”  Despite team meetings and mandatory study halls, I had yet to meet all the guys on the team.  Let alone learn their names.

“Nice to meet you.”  He opens the door and we enter the gym together.  “How did you know who I was?” I ask while I sign in.

“Well, we only have two recruited freshman this year,” he says very matter of factly.  “It would’ve been a fifty-fifty shot.  But I knew who you were already anyways.  Your CCBL catcher is my best friend from way back.”

“Lester?”

“Yep.  We grew up on the same block.”

I smile, shaking my head slightly as we enter into the gym.  Both of us head straight for the lockers, where we take off our sweatshirts and stretch in silence.  We casually shoot the shit as we make our way to the treadmills, but once on the machines we both pop in our earbuds and fall into a stride.  I keep messing with the speed, unable to find my breaking point.  My legs move faster, my arms pump at my sides, and the sweat starts to slide down my face.  The burn in my legs makes its presence known, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.  I reach out and increase the speed again.  My chest heaves in rhythm with the beat of the music.  Slow at first, then increasing as the song becomes more frantic.  Much like my search for control. 

It continues on like this for what seems to me like a short period of time, but I notice that Steven and another guy are standing in front of my treadmill with their arms crossed, both of them with looks of concern on their faces.  If I wasn’t overheated and covered in sweat, I’m certain that I would have blushed.  I felt like an idiot.  Like my issues were out in the open now and I couldn’t deny it.  I pop my earbuds out and Steven leans over quickly to whisper something to the other dude, whom I assume is another one of my teammates that I have yet to meet.  Even better.

“So, Donahue…” Steven emphasizes my name by lifting his brows. “Lester tells me you have some hot friends.”

My mouth drops open. The shock couldn’t be clearer than if I was transparent and told him everything.  My mind is reeling with an appropriate response.  Own it.  Quinn is hot.  No, Finley is hot.  Yes, my girlfriends are hot.  No, I only have one girlfriend.  What the fuck, get your shit together, Chace. 

Before I realize what I’m even doing, let alone able to form a coherent thought, Steven grins.  “That’s what I thought.”  He tosses me a towel.  “Word to the wise, freshman.  Being here is the opportunity of a lifetime. Get your personal shit figured out and under control.  Don’t blow it.”

He’s right.  I know that.  But what if this confusion and chaos is my sign?  What if my opportunity of a lifetime isn’t baseball?  Or being at Boston College?  What if there’s something more to Quinn and our relationship?  What about Finley?  Even worse, what if I blow it?

Fuck.    

Bottom of the 1
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Quinn

“I’m such a fuck up,” I mumble as I tip the bottle back and take a swig from the Fireball drink Kenna found. It burns as it goes down my throat, but I enjoy it. The feeling reminds me that I’m human. The discomfort of it is also minuscule in comparison to the pain that’s starting to unravel within me.

“Quit saying that,” Kenna slurs as she spins in the office chair. Her boyfriend, Mick, told us to hang in the back. Guess we were being too loud for his liking. So here we are, acting like a bunch of adolescents, spinning around in chairs while getting drunk. I’m pretty sure we are playing an unspoken game of who can puke first. Because who in their right mind spins around while getting shmammered, thinking it’s a good idea?

Us! That’s who.

“I fucked my best friend, Kenna.”

Spin.

“I fucked him good.”

Spin.

“Actually I didn’t.”

Stop.

“I laid there like a dead fish. A fucking dead fish,” I whine. “I sucked. He’s never gonna want to have sex with me again,” I choke out, on the verge of crying.

“Hey hey.” Kenna pushes her way over, colliding into me with her chair. I let out a hiccup of a laugh. “You’re worth a second fuck.”

“You really think so?” I ask with a sniffle.

“I know so.” She places her hand on my thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Now how about that piercing?”

“Let’s do it,” I say, giving her a wicked grin.

****

My alarm clock goes off, and I groan as I swat at my side table, hoping to hush the noise.

“Make it stop,” I hear from the other side of the room.

“I’m trying.” I peek an eye open, looking for my phone.

I grab for my charger cord, praying it’s on the other end. I feel the weight of it as I pull the cord up and onto my bed. Right when I almost have it to the edge of my mattress my phone detaches from the charger and falls to the ground.

“Shit fire,” I curse. I quickly lean over my bed, dismantling the alarm as I grab my phone. I flop back down on my stiff mattress and look at the time.

“Fuck! We got class in thirty.”

“I’m not going,” Kenna moans from her bed.

“Like hell you’re not.” I toss my pillow across the room at her.

“Bitch,” she mumbles.

I toss my blanket over and crawl out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

“I’m going to go take a quick shower and wash the shame from last night off of me,” I tease, remembering bits and pieces of things I might have said last night and feeling totally lame about it.

“Well, there’s a special soap for that. And don’t scrub too hard—that shame isn’t going anywhere.”

I just shake my head. She’s obviously still drunk.

I turn the shower on and undress before sitting down to pee. I grab some toilet paper and give myself a quick wipe, about flying off the toilet as I do so.

“Holy fuck!” I still myself, begging the pain to subside.

“You okay?” Kenna yells from the room.

“Umm.” I look down, inspecting myself.

“You forgot.” I hear her laughing. I want to tell her to shut it, but I’m making sure I didn’t rip anything of importance off. I touch the little balls on each end of the covered barbell. It seems to all be intact. My vagina is still whole. That’s always a plus.

I stand, wrap the towel around me, and peek around the door. “Hell yeah I forgot. I almost wiped it off.”

She starts to giggle as she crawls out of bed wearing nothing but her panties and bra. “What were you doing wiping all the way up in the North Pole anyways?”

“Apparently I was drunk wiping. It definitely sobered me back up.”

“How’s it feeling now?”

“Not bad. Just a little sore.”

“Okay, remember to grab that soap that’s on the counter. And after your shower you need to do this salt water treatment with it.” She pulls a shirt out of her middle drawer.

“What? I need to make my pussy gargle?”

Kenna finally turns to me, giving me the craziest stare I’ve seen before she just busts at the seams with laughter.

“That would be one crazy stupid human trick.”

Fifteen minutes later we are side by side walking to class. My glasses are covering half my face as I attempt to hide last night’s shenanigans.

“I feel like I’m walking weird. Am I walking weird?” I glance backwards in some weird attempt of seeing if I can catch my shadow.

“Only when you keep trying to check out your own ass.” She lifts her glasses then slows down just enough for me to be a step in front of her while she peers down at my butt. “Quit tripping. Your ass looks fine. Better than fine.”

“I’m not worried about my ass. I’m worried about me walking like I have a stick up it.”

“What? Why?” She pulls the door to the building open, allowing me to go in first. “Ohhhh. Because you pierced your kitty’s nose.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” I look up to see Chace standing right in front of me.

“Umm, yeah. Just got it.” I brush my way past him.

“Yep. Last night. She’s such a purrer, too.” Kenna snickers, thinking she’s clever.

Chace jogs up to me, grabbing for my arm before I can open the classroom door to escape him.

“I really want to talk, Q.”

“I know you do.”

“I’ll save your seat,” Kenna says, heading into the lecture hall. I give her a fake smile, glaring and internally cursing her for not pulling me in with her.

“I know you’re avoiding me. I get it. I really do. The last thing I was expecting when I took this last minute scholarship was to run into you here,” Chace admits. “I’m still unsure of how I should feel about it.”

“How bout I just keep avoiding you? That should make it easy on all of the involved parties.” I turn on my heel and book it for the door before he can respond. I need to get away from him, because when I’m near him all the wires in my head get short fused.

I make my way over to Kenna and take my seat. Pulling out my notebook, I begin jotting down what the professor has started writing on the board. It’s our project assignments for the semester. The one I read about in the syllabus that counts for half of our final grade.

“Today we are going to be picking partners and themes for this semester’s presentation. Ladies, I want you each to rip off a piece of paper and write your name on it. Fold it up, and then place it into the canister that’s making its way around the room.” The room is loud with the ripping of paper as us girls do what Professor Sutton has instructed. “Now, I want all the guys to stand to the left of me and all the gals to the right.” We all stand, making our way down the steps and standing on either side of him.

He begins having each male student pick from the canister of names, reading them aloud as they do. I watch and listen intently as each guy steps forward. I keep wishing for my name to be called already. Begging for it to be. I need it be called. Chace is two places back and I need my name to be called before he gets up there. The chances of him picking me only keep increasing. Chace steps forward and my stomach sinks. I know how this works—when you don’t want something to happen, it does. And that’s exactly what happens when he reads my name off the little piece of paper.

I should be excited, thrilled that I get to work with my best friend on this project. But I’m not, because all this is doing is pushing us together when the magnetic element inside me wants to push us apart. I can’t be near him. How can I get over him if we’re being pushed together?

“Alright. Now that we have the partners picked, it’s time for you ladies to come pick out the theme of your presentation. One at a time, grab from the can and read aloud.”

I’m in no hurry as I slowly make my way to the back of the line. I’m just ready for this day to be over with already. I’m ready for this semester to be over with. The closer I make my way to the front, I start hearing some of the subjects being read off: Abortion, homosexuality, marriage…then it’s my turn. I stick my hand in, letting my fingers drag against the metal bottom, pushing the few scraps of paper around. I close my fingers around a piece and lift it out, slowly opening it.

The word death glares back at me.

Guess it could be worse—could’ve been love.