Sweet Spot (7 page)

“Fife!” Coach barks during the seventh inning stretch. “What’s going on tonight? You limping?”

Shit shit shit. “It’s no big deal, Coach.”

“The fuck it’s not. You aren’t playing up to speed and you’re limping. What the fuck happened?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from exploding in the dugout. I’ve buried too much for too long. “Just overdid it in the gym this morning, Coach. I swear I’m fine.”

He studies for me a minute. “Can you make it to the end of the game?”

“Yes, Coach.” I say immediately. “It’s no problem.”

“Looks like it’s a problem.”

“It’s not a problem.” All I can think is,
please fucking believe me
.

Finally, he nods. “All right. But if you can’t hold it together, let me know so we can send in a sub.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Don’t push yourself to injury, Fife. Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

If he only knew. “Yes, Coach.”

Jamie covers my ass the rest of the game and I’m surprised Coach doesn’t pull me. Fortunately, I catch two line drives between the seventh and eighth innings, securing my place in the game and Coach stops giving me shit. Jamie, however, doesn’t.

“Don’t make me regret this.” I mutter at him as I shovel another handful of seeds in my mouth. “I’ll never trust your ass again.”

“I’m not the dumbfuck who’s playing with a jacked up knee.” He shoots me another knowing look and I consider smacking it off his face with my bat. “I just don’t want to lose you, brother. Henry’s all right, but he’s no
you
out there.”

I frown and pick up my bat, ready to face down the Sox closer. “Thanks. I’ll be alright.”

And now I need a hit more than ever before. One for Coach. One for Jamie. One for Ally. Everything for Ally.

Home plate looks daunting and their closer—Gonzalez—has been a beast. I settle into my stance, bite my lip until I can’t feel the pain in my knee anymore, and swing at the first ball he throws.

It’s out of the fucking park. The guys in the dugout start jumping around as I make my lap around the bases. The crowd is peppered with cheers and boos. The base coaches high-five me, Coach high-fives me, Jamie slaps me on the back.

Somewhere out there, Ally is cheering for me.

I collapse on the bench, a tangled web of emotions. I did it—but it hurt. Why do I keep ending up in situations where I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t?

My run isn’t enough. The Sox score two more in the ninth and secure their win. It’s a somber mood in the locker room.

“We still have two more games in the series.” George slaps Carlos on the back with a wink. He’s one of the louder guys on the team, always trying to rev us up. “Tonight ain’t no thang.”

“Fife.” Coach pops his head in and I nearly piss myself in fear. “I want you down with the trainers to ice that knee.”

Relief is sweet. I try not the exhale too loudly and nod. “Yes, Coach.”

If Ally were here, she’d know exactly how to cheer me up. She’d help me down to the trainer’s room and kiss me. Everything would melt away with her. But between my knee and Coach being pissed, my career is narrowing down to a fine point. The end of what could have been us.

I keep the trainers mostly at bay and grab my own ice. Prying eyes can be kept the fuck away, thank you very much. I lay back on the table with my hat over my eyes and try not to think about anything.

“Nice hit tonight!” Jamie sidles and sprawls out on the next table over. “You need to give me some pointers on my swing, brother. I’m hitting a slump.”

“We all are.”

“Nah, man. You’re amazing with the bat. You need to help me fix that shit.”

I smile under my hat. I love helping out other players, sharing my knowledge, playing the role of coach. “You do it, bro.”

A
fter the game
, the temptation to go out and act up is strong. The only thing stopping me is my knee and the crippling knowledge I’m losing control of everything in my life. I broke promises, crossed lines never meant to be crossed, and now I’m in danger of getting benched because of this damn injury.

Yeah, some Jameson would be pretty fucking stellar right about now. I didn’t swear sobriety, but I also know myself. I know this itchy feeling. Tonight, I wouldn’t stop at just one.

Still, I meet the guys in the hotel bar for a few minutes to commiserate over the loss. Jamie keeps thanking me for the batting tips and it’s the only icing on the cake of this whole shitty day. Carlos asks about getting some tomorrow. The boy is a boss with the bat, but I’ve got the highest batting average on the team and everyone just wants to be better.

“How’s the knee?” Coach asks, coming up from behind and slapping me on the shoulder.

“Perfect, now that it’s been iced,” I lie. “I guess I just didn’t stretch well enough today.”

“Gotta stay on top of that, Fife. Knees can be a career killer.”

“I know.”

“No one can kill Kemper Fife.” Octivio smirks. “Except maybe a redhead.”

Everyone starts giving me shit, even Coach. He doesn’t think I was the one who marred his daughter. He thinks I’m innocent, living up to my oath to him and the city. He thinks I’m a changed man. It makes me feel like a dog.

I almost wish he knew the truth.

“How about a round of shots?” Coach digs for his wallet. “You guys deserve ‘em.”

Jamie and Carlos whoop, Octivio does some stupid dance in his seat, and Edwards starts clapping. And then everyone looks at me. Again. This is becoming a routine.

“I was actually about to go to my room,” I say, trying not to look too mournful. Going to my room is the last thing I want to do, even if it’s the right thing.

“Bullshit.” Carlos calls.

“It’s just one drink. You earned it.” Coach claps my shoulder. “We don’t need to get crazy, just relax.”

“Nah, I need to keep icing my knee. Gotta start fresh tomorrow.” It pains me. A literal pain clenches in my gut, but I know this is the way it has to be. I have to atone. I have to get away from the man I betrayed.

My dad was a piece of shit. It’s not news to anyone who knows me. But Coach? He’s a standup guy who genuinely cares about us. He’s invested in our lives and careers, he wants what’s best for us even when it’s hard or we don’t see the end in sight. He’s everything I ever wanted in a dad. Shit, we literally play catch together. It’s the dream.

Except I’m ruining everything because I can’t keep my hands to myself. I can barely look at him, much less accept a drink from him.

Despite everyone’s protests and dodging the wayward “pussy” comments, I manage to hobble up to my room without a drink in hand, even though it’s all I want. For starters, anyways. I would abstain from sex for eternity if I could just have one more drunken night to forget everything that’s happened in the past week.

I find myself staring down the bible in my room. I don’t do religion, as a general rule. God gave me a shitty dad and stole my mom. He left me alone to deal with the aftermath and did nothing when I was falling to pieces.

But here I am.

It’s just starting to feel like I need more. More strength than I have alone if I’m going to turn it around, leave Ally alone. I feel stupid, hesitating like this. I’m not sure what I’d even read or if it would help. Hasn’t stopped the staring contest, though.

What would my mom want me to do? She was the religious one. She took me to church as a child, prayed with me, constantly told me I was a miracle from God who could do anything. Maybe once I believed her, wanted to believe her, but when she died, most of my faith died with her.

My mom would want me to seek him out. My mom would want me to go to church and find her there. My mom was an amazing, selfless woman. Even if I prefer to attend the church of Kauffman on Sundays instead of a cathedral, I know she’s in Heaven. Someone like her couldn’t not be.

I crack open the cover and stare some more. Words just swim before my eyes and suddenly all I can hear in my head is sweet Ally’s voice, saying she’ll pray for me and that she wants to comfort me. She’s Heaven-bound, too, that sweet girl with a heart of gold.

She makes me want to be better. It’s horrifically corny and cliché, I know, but it’s true. I want to be the guy who hangs the moon and pushes the sun to rise. I want to sweeten the air she breathes and give her a life of comfort and pleasure. I want to be the man she can rely on, cry to, love in the darkest, quietest moments.

How can I do that, though, when we aren’t even supposed to be together? When the mere touch of my skin to hers thrusts me over hallowed ground and into damnation?

There’s a knock on my door before I can turn the page to actual text. I ignore it, because I don’t want to deal with Jamie’s shenanigans or another round of hearing the guys call me a pussy. Instead, I pull out my phone and Google “best chapter to start reading the bible.” The internet directs me to Mark, and I flip through the pages until I find it, still unsure if I’m actually going to read it or not.

The knocking continues. Instead of getting louder, the knock stays soft. My feet are out of the bed before my brain catches up.

She’s beautiful, as always, framed in my doorway.

“I didn’t order a pizza.” I can’t help myself. I never can. That’s part of the problem.

“I didn’t bring any pizza.” She smiles at me. “But I thought you might want some company.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Oh, something about losing a game and spending half the night with ice on your knee.”

“Someone is ratting me out.”

“There are perks to being the coach’s daughter.” She winks at me. “Can I come in, or shall we continue this witty banter in the hallway?”

I wave her in and peek my head out to make sure no one saw her standing at my door. The hotel does a good job of keeping the paps away, but anyone can see anything and throw that shit on twitter.

Though that traitorous part of me wishes Coach would know just so it would be over.

I close the door behind me and find her sitting in the desk chair, spinning around.

“Did I really look that bad out there?” I ask, leaning against the dresser, trying to keep us safely apart. “So bad you needed to come console me?”

“You didn’t score for me.” She pretends to scowl and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “I figured something was really wrong.”

“It was a bad night for all of us, I guess.” I don’t mention Coach’s total rip on us, but I know I don’t have to. She had to have gotten the worst of it.

“Yeah.” She scratches her leg and doesn’t look at me. “Off nights happen. You guys will bounce back.”

“Here’s hoping.”

She looks across the room and spots the open Bible. Ally goes to pick it up and I try to dive for it, but she gently pushes my arm away and flips through the pages.

“Mark? Very nice.”

“I wasn’t really reading. I just opened it.”

“You didn’t strike me as religious.”

I pause. “I’m not.”

“So what made you open it?”

“You.”

Ally turns to look at me, and in the moment our eyes lock, it feels like the sky explodes and everything shatters around us. There’s no one else but the two of us, held in this moment as if nothing else matters. She drops the Bible on the bedside table and places her soft hands on my cheeks.

“What are you looking for?” she whispers.

“Answers,” I whisper back.

“Did you find them?”

In the depths of her dark eyes, I find my purpose. I find my reason for living. I find every answer to every question I’ve ever asked or wondered, waiting in her. I know we can’t continue seeing each other. I can tell she knows it too, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. But, in that moment, I didn’t care.

I want to attend the Church of Ally. I want to worship her body and her soul, praise her body and her mind. I want to drown in her just one more time, before the world tears us apart because our DNA lead us to become Romeo and Juliet, only instead of waiting for poison to take us, the real world pulls us in two.

It’s better this way, I tell myself. We have sweet moments to treasure forever and lives to live independently. She’s young, she’ll find someone perfect for her later.

I grab her by the waist and kiss her tenderly, parting her lips with my tongue and savoring the taste of her. I pray to her mouth while my hands unfasten her buttons and drop the clothes from her tight body. She steps out of her cotton dress and presses her lace-wrapped breasts to my chest, moaning against me.

My cock is already ramrod hard, has been from the moment she appeared in my doorway like an angel. Ally rocks against me and I have to press our foreheads together to breathe, to relish this feeling, to imprint it into my memory for eternity.

Ally pulls away and runs a finger down my shirt. I pull it over my head while she tugs on my jeans. Her movements become desperate, frantic, but I grab her hands and still her. Tonight is for lovemaking. Tonight is for goodbyes.

I kick off my jeans and boxers and fold her into my arms to lay her out on the bed. Starting at her forehead, I kiss my way down her body, taking extra time to lavish kisses across her pebbled nipples. She presses herself further into my mouth, but I have other destinations in mind.

My tongue travels down her stomach, over her navel, and down her legs. I go down her right leg and come up her left, pausing momentarily to give her center a long, slow lick. Her whole body shivers and sighs.

Church of Ally is now in session.

Amen.

Her pussy reminds me of a ripe peach, juicy and sweet. I lick her up and down like it’s my life source. She wraps her legs around my head and I pleasure her thoroughly. Tonight, I want this girl to rock to as many orgasms as there are stars in the sky.

I couldn’t fulfill the promise of a home run on the field but I can fulfill it here, in my room, on these hotel sheets.

She rocks to a gentle orgasm across my lips and I still my tongue as she comes down. I climb my way back up to her and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in for a tender kiss. We make out, our lips saying everything our hearts want to say.

Ally rolls us over so she’s on top of me and runs her hands down my chest. Her hands move lower, lower, lower until she’s got my cock like a joystick. This beautiful girl works me like she’s at batting practice. I like that idea. It would be incredibly hot to watch her on the field.

But not as hot as watching her with my dick. Her hands feel amazing.

She walks herself down the bed and pulls her hair to the side. Already, my cock is throbbing in wait at the idea of her mouth around my shaft. Ally moves slowly, working me with her tongue, dragging her teeth along the tender skin. I thrust gently into her mouth and hit the back of her throat, and she greedily takes all of me.

I’m reciting last season’s stats in my head to keep my shit together.

She strokes my base while she sucks on my head, like magic. Ally abruptly stops and dives over the bed for her purse. I sit up on my elbows to watch her and she resurfaces with a condom. The little minx is prepared.

She slides it over my cock a bit clumsily and it’s beautiful. This sweet girl is not experienced and it simultaneously kills me and makes me love her all the more.

“You sure you want this?” I ask cautiously. Oral is one thing, but this is intimate. This is special. And I want it more than anything on earth, so I’m praying she really does too.

Ally climbs back on top of me and gently lowers herself down onto my cock in response. The feel of her around me, so tight and warm even through the rubber, steals my breath and even she has to take a moment, her mouth formed into a perfect O. I grab her hips and slowly rock her against me.

She stills me for a moment with a shy grin and whispers, “You’re awfully big.”

I laugh. “Is it a problem?”

“God no.”

Her hands dig into my stomach for support and she rides me, timid at first but slowly gaining speed. I keep my hands on her hips to help guide her and she laces her fingers between mine. In these moments with her, time stills. There is nothing here but our breath, the soft moans as we pleasure one another.

“You’re amazing.”

“You make me feel amazing.”

Hot fingers of euphoria wrap around my cock at this. I want to make her feel amazing forever. Every day. I slip one hand out of her grasp, lick my thumb, and massage her clit as she moves. Goosebumps explode across her skin and she gasps my name.

Amen.

Sex is usually a game. How quickly can I get her to come? How quickly can I come? Can I get out without a phone number? But this—this is different. This is powerful. This will be my undoing.

Watching her fuck me is like watching art. The way her mouth purses, the way her body thrusts and arcs, the way her eyes flutter as waves of pleasure start to trickle through her. It’s all I can do to stave off from the orgasm I want so badly to continue this ride with her.

Instead, I pull her down and underneath me, legs parted enough so I can slip in. She wraps her legs around my waist and we move together, bound to one another, kissing deeply. A lot of guys I know hate missionary, say it isn’t exciting. But for me, it’s the most intimate. We are closer here, like this, than anywhere else. I can wrap her in my arms and hold her while we make love. Because that’s exactly what we’re doing.

She bites my lip and pants in my ear, fingernails digging into my back. I don’t break rhythm, but undo the wall I’ve built up around my cock to keep from coming and let myself really feel her. She’s close to an orgasm.

“Come with me,” I whisper in her ear. She gasps. “Come with me.”

She whimpers only once and suddenly my cock runs hot in her contracting pussy. I let myself fall down the hole of an orgasm and together we pant and moan and fuck until there is nothing left in our bodies but our exposed souls.

I don’t pull out. I just savor the moment, this last moment, with her in my arms. I kiss her everywhere I can reach—her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her forehead. She presses herself against me and sighs like a contented kitten and then pushes me up so she can look at me in the eyes.