Hitting to Win (Over the Fence #2) (6 page)

So I don't say anything. I turn around and flee the Zeta house without a backward glance.

T
he doo-doo
-doo jingle of an incoming Skype call distracts me from my History of Theater homework. Which I hadn't been concentrating on anyway, seeing as how it felt like my stomach contents could land on my carpet at any minute.

Grabbing my pink-covered laptop from the end of my blush comforter, I hit accept. Kels's tan, freckled face fills the screen, the open slit of a tent her backdrop.

"Hi!" I squeal. I haven't talked to her in a week with how spotty the wireless is out there. "Where are you now?"

"Jesus, I forgot how pink that room is. I need to adjust my eyes." She fakes shielding her hazel orbs and sticks her tongue out. Kels, ever the grunge hippie, loves to tease me about how girly I am. "I'm in Tanzania, we're doing a retreat in the Serengeti National Park. It's so beautiful, Chlo. That word doesn't even begin to describe."

Her eyes go all dreamy, as they always do when she's talking wildlife. I know how she feels. It’s the same way I feel about ballet.

"That sounds amazing. Take pictures of the elephants for me." I press my hand to my stomach as another sharp jab assaults my uterus.

I must have grimaced, because Kels is immediately on me. "What's wrong?" Her voice is tinged with concern.

I'm glad she had time to talk today. I could talk to Minka about this, but I don't need to hear the "that was so irresponsible" speech right now.

"So...I had to take Plan B for the first time..." I knew Kels would get it. I know she'd taken it before. Mainly because I had driven her to the drug store to get it.

"Oh, Chloe. Did you have to go by yourself?" This is why I needed her home. She read my mind and felt my emotions like no one else could. For two people who were so different, we could have been twins.

"I did. I went yesterday morning, right when they opened. It was tough, but I'm glad I went." I'd been a wreck the last two days. Right after Miles ran out, without so much as a goodbye, I broke down into a snotty pile of tears. I'd allowed myself two hours, until the dead of the morning, to lose it. Then, I'd picked myself up, gotten a few hours sleep, and went to get the pill from the pharmacy at 8 a.m. the next morning. I may have been dumb Tuesday night, but it didn't mean I was going to be dumb in the aftermath.

"Well, who was it? And tell me that little fucker didn't promise you he'd pull out? Guys who fake that are such assholes." Kels always knew how to make me laugh. I giggle at her crude question. Gosh, I missed her humor.

"It was...um...Miles." I wait for the shriek, which I get about half a second later.

"WHAT! You slept with Miles Farriston? Is this a dream? Mink had told me you two had been spending time together with this competition but holy shit. How was it? I heard he's great."

I frown at her last statement. I didn't need anymore reminders of just how many people Miles had been with. Not that he hadn't bragged about it himself when he was stroking into me. I didn't protest about it then, though. I could barely breathe, let alone think when he was winding me up like a top.

"It was...fantastic. Mind-blowing. The best sex I've ever had. And also the worst. He was horrible to me." I feel the searing heat as blotches of humiliation bloom on my face. Remembering the way he'd spoken to me, how he'd pushed into me almost violently. The sex had been completely consensual, I was practically salivating for him. But after, when he'd run like his hair was on fire, was when I'd realized he'd only fucked me. Hard. Almost as a punishment. Or revenge.

"What? What are you saying...did he, hurt you?" Kels looks pissed, but also worried.

"No, no! Nothing like that. I wanted it, very much. Its just...I get this feeling he was hate-fucking me or something."

"Oh...that's hot. Tell me more." Her tone immediately turns from worried to naughty. Typical Kels.

"Kels it's not hot. It's pathetic. I've had a crush on this guy since he saved me on the playground at Mitchum Elementary, which by the way, he probably doesn't even remember, and I let him use me for sex because I figure it's the only way he'll ever truly see me? And without a condom nonetheless. I'm almost as gross as him. I was so stupid."

"Chlo, ugh, you sound like Minka. Life is not a romance novel. The white knight does not come to sweep you off your feet, sex is just for pleasure, not connection, and it doesn't end in a happily ever after. Once you remember that, life, and hooking up, gets so much better." She shakes her head in dismay. Miss Sexpert is mad at my overenthusiastic picture of love.

It was the one area where we differed. Kels didn't believe in monogamy or relationships. I saw my parents, who'd been married for twenty years, more in love with each other on a daily basis. It was only natural I wanted to find someone who made my life complete. The kind of love my parents had.

"So, are you gonna do it again?" Kels leans in close, waiting impatiently for my answer.

"Um, no. He hasn't even texted or called to see if I'm okay, much less ask me to hang out." Did I even want to do it again? No, and yes. It had been the best sex of my life. Not that I'd been with too many guys, only four. But I just knew that no one would ever be able to come close to Miles.

He hadn't been there for me though. He'd fucked me in spite of me. Whether it was actually about me, all that anger, or about something entirely different, he'd taken it out on me. And as forgiving as I was, I was not about to be someone's punching bag. No matter how long I'd crushed on him.

"Oh shit, I gotta go. There are giraffes migrating towards our camp. I love you! Say hi to Mink and Clint for me!" And with that, the call went black with her exit.

I sigh, the sound reverberating in my tiny single. I was lucky enough to even get one of these. But I was usually gone so late and up so early with studio time that no one had wanted to room with me.

I pick up my phone, willing there to be a text from Miles. No such luck. He hasn't even tried to get in contact after our night together. Jerk. He was entirely aware of the fact that he hadn't used a condom, and didn't even try to rectify the situation. I'd gone by myself, picking up the morning-after pill while the judgmental pharmacist rang me up.

Miles Farriston. I still kind of couldn't believe I'd even slept with him.

I'd been seven-years-old, he nine, the first time I'd laid eyes on him. Bruce Nichols had been bullying me during recess about my height, I was awfully tall for a first grader. I was crying, sitting on the swing while Bruce called me a praying mantis. All of sudden, Bruce was on the ground, holding his arm and whimpering.

"Leave her alone. Pick on someone your own age, Nichols." A tough voice had said. I squinted up into the sunny spring sky, and Miles stepped into view, blocking out the rays. "Are you okay?"

All I could do was nod. His blonde curls, so much lighter than, sprung out from his head, his small smile showcasing a row of uneven baby teeth. He had on a Superman shirt and jeans. I fell hard right then and there, for my own personal superhero.

Ever since, I'd been trying to get him to see me, like he saw me that day. It had never happened, despite my many attempts and passes in high school. Until now. And now, he didn't see me in any way that was good. In any way that could lead anywhere except for me getting hurt.

So, in my usual fashion, I would forgive. But this time, I wouldn't forget. I wasn't pursuing him anymore. I'd get through these next five weeks and then we'd be free to move on completely from each other.

My phone vibrates, and I snatch it up quickly. Okay, so the whole not waiting for Miles thing is going to take some work.

Checking the screen, I realize it's just an email from Madame Vivienne. She's a former French ballerina who trained at the French Academie of Ballet. While she's tough, she's taken an interest in me, which could catapult me to success faster than I can imagine. I just have to put up with her very strict way of teaching.

Oh, just perfect. Not only am I bleeding heavily from my stupid sex decisions, but now Madame V has decided to take a stab at me too. Her quiet, guilting jabs hurt more than a knife in the gut.

No, I'm definitely not going anywhere near Miles Farriston again. He left me, alone and scared, to deal with our mistake. But he also cost me two days of studio time, training time. Time that I'm in dire need of to make my dream come true.

No, I wasn't wasting anymore time on him and a seven-year-old's fantasy.

W
hen I envision a baseball
, I see the seams ripped open, the cottony guts of the thing flying through the air. That's what I want to do that three-inch-round sphere each time its thrown in my direction. That's why, as it comes at me from behind the automated pitch machine on the mound, I use all of the power and strength in my body to swing my bat. With a crack, I make contact, propelling the cowhide-covered circle up into the second deck of seats. That deafening pop, the one that rings in your ears when you know you've hit a homer...it's almost better than an orgasm for me.

"You wouldn't be hitting like that if I was on that mound." Owen's jeer snaps me out of my zone. I'd been swinging for the last 20 minutes, home run after home run after home run. Too bad this was an empty stadium and not an actual game.

"Dude, are we going or not?" Parker Avery clambers up the dugout steps, with Clint close behind. Parker, that surly son-of-a-bitch. I used to tease about being such an angry prick all the time. That was, until I joined the club.

"Where are we going? I say, dropping my bat and wiping my face with the towel I'd shoved in the back pocket of my practice pants.

"Drink's at Sammy's, you in?" Clint rubs his stomach, which has shrunk since the start of the year. He must be down 25 pounds. He looks healthier than I've ever seen him.

I don't really want a beer, and that shocking surprise is not lost on me. It may be ten kinds of fucked up, but I've actually felt pretty spectacular after fucking out all of my anger on Chloe.

Yeah, I know. I'm a fucking dick. I left her there and ran like a scared little shit. I didn't even have the guts to contact her since. Which will end tomorrow, when we have our usual Saturday morning studio time. I won't be surprised if she doesn't show up, or kicks me in the balls, or something. Although none of those things sound like Chloe. Which only makes me feel like more of a tool.

But since that night, a lot of my anger has subsided. I finally feel like the darkness that has been shrouding me the past three months has lifted.

"Yeah, I'll go for one beer. But only if you girls are paying. This is a date, right?" I flutter my eyelashes at them.

Owen looks so shocked, I think he might fall over. Okay, so it's been a long time since I've been my usual goofball self. But it feels really good.

T
wenty-five minutes
later we walk into Sammy's, the local college bar right off of Grover's campus. I nod at Ricky, the owner of Sammy's- yeah I know-as we pass the bar and slide into our usual table. We order a round when the waitress comes, and about three too many appetizers for the table. Whatever, we're guys.

"We're going to shoot a round before the food comes." Clint and Parker get up to go play pool, leaving Owen and I sipping our beers.

"So, you ever catch up with Chloe on Tuesday night?" I haven't talked to Owen except for passing each other in and out of the house, but I know his question is loaded. He either already knows something happened, or he suspects it. Might as well come right out with it.

"Yeah. I went back to her house and fucked her." I swallow as Owen chokes on his beer.

"You...what? Wow. Didn't think that's where this was going."

"I didn't either. I don't even particularly like her. Or I didn't. I don't know, Axel." I was so confused, it felt good to be able to talk this out with someone.

"Is it going to...continue?" He's treading carefully, being used to my moods from the past couple of months.

I laugh sardonically. "Definitely not. I'm a dick, man. I know I've been one the last few months, I've thought about it all week. But I wouldn't be surprised if I really got Chloe to hate me this time. I basically hate-fucked her, without a condom, and then ran out as soon as I pounded one out."

Owen blinks, clearly stunned that I'm being this candid with him. "Dude. First of all...um. Jesus, that's a lot of information. Let me think...well, the no condom thing. You're an idiot. But yeah, you're a dick for running out of there. I hope you called her, or at least texted her."

Smiling sheepishly, I take a slow sip. "Not exactly..."

"FARRIS! That's a dick move. Especially to my girl's best friend. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I know. I've been a prickly son-of-a-bitch recently. Olivia fucked me up good. But that's no excuse for what I did to Chloe. Its weird actually. Hooking up with Chloe kind of...healed me. Its like, she took all of my anger, and then got rid of it. I've been able to think clearly this week, no depression clouding my view."

"Well, at least there's that. I have to say, if nothing else, it's nice to have my normal friend back." He reaches across the table to offer me a fist bump. I return it.

"I've been thinking a lot about Olivia. How I let her get to me way too much. That entire relationship was such a fucking sham. I guess I was so pissed off when she dumped me because it was the first time I'd actually committed to someone. Wanted someone to be there, unconditionally, for me."

Owen nods somberly. "I know exactly what you mean. But, Farris...Olivia wasn't ever going to be that person. And if you need someone to be there for you, you've got me. Always, bro."

I'd held this weight on my shoulders for so long, that I didn't know if I could unload it onto Owen. But we were already here, I was already being open. I took a deep breath.

"I had a brother. Did you know that?" I take a small sip, glance over to where Parker is scowling at Clint over the pool table. Turning back, I catch Owen's astonished gaze. I press on. "He died in a car crash when I was seven. About a month before little league started and we met. He was much older than me, about 10 years older. I was the baby mother and father were never really supposed to have. Anyway, Jay...Jason that is, he was the best. Always so happy, fucking smart as hell, he always looked out for me. He was poised to take over the company after college." 

Owen nods, he knows what my family's business is, even if we've never really discussed it. Everyone knows who my family is.

"Well, now he's gone. And with him, any sense of real family I ever had. My mother, I don't think I've actually seen her in a year come to think of it. She's off spending my father's money in Europe. My father, he's just interested in an heir to the company. Which, now that Jay's gone, would be me. Even though I'd rather be skinned alive. Even though I'd rather put my blood, sweat and tears into making it to the majors. Which my father naturally thinks is a joke. 'Baseball is just a hobby, Miles.' God, he doesn't care if I'm shit miserable for the rest of my life, just as long as I tow the family line."

Owen snaps out of his shocked state when I mention baseball. "Wait, so you're not gonna go pro?"

"I don't see how I can, dude. My dad only pays for me to play now because I agreed to get a business degree. After school, it's off to work for him, my responsibility to my bloodline, he likes to say. If I refuse, he stops paying my tuition. And I can all but kiss baseball goodbye if I can't afford to play for Grover."

My best friend looks incredulous now. "But...dude, there has to be something we can do! You're too fucking good of a player to waste that talent building fucking airplanes."

"Don't I know it." I hang my head, feeling empty but relieved at revealing the heavy cross that had become mine to bear. My family might suck, but I had some fucking great friends.

"We'll figure something out. No way am I going into the draft alone. I need my shortstop." Owen smiles and raises his beer at me, indicating his need for a cheers.

As I clink my glass to his, he pauses, both of our mugs in mid-air. "But dude, if you don't apologize to Chloe, I'm going to have to cut your nut sack off."

“I know, dude.” We clink glasses, each sipping. “But, what do I do? I should have never done it in the first place. Chloe, she probably hates my fucking guts right about now.”

Owen chuckles. “Then you don’t know Chloe, man. She’s a great girl. And I love Minka to death, but my girl doesn’t have a ‘benefit-of-the-doubt’ bone in her whole body. Chloe is the other girls’ voice of reason. She’s the calm, cool and collected one. Explain to her. I think she’ll surprise you, bro.”

I took another sip of my beer, mulling over what my best friend said. I knew what I had to do.