Hitting It_Locker Room Diaries Read online

  Except, if I was honest with myself, I’d never been good at this. The moment I became the local baseball legend, girls started coming on to me. All I’d had to do was smile and keep hitting home runs. That was easy. But suddenly, I really needed a silver-tongue and discovered that I was completely unprepared.

  I was just marshaling brain cells to come up with a real conversation when I got jostled from behind. More guys, some of them aiming toward Heidi. I blocked them. Now that I was face-to-face with her, no one was getting in. But that didn’t stop them from banging into me or angling around to get at her best friend.

  “This is insane,” Heidi said.

  “It’s great,” the friend replied as she winked at a flirty Hispanic guy.

  I realized I had to make a move soon or I’d be shoved out of the way. Even my bulk couldn’t hold off the tide of admirers. So I gestured with the pitcher. “You hungry? There’s a crab shack over there.”

  Her gaze shifted to her left, but she couldn’t see anything. She was too short and the crowd too thick. “Really?”

  “I’ll take you.”

  She glanced nervously at her friend who was flirting with a new guy with ripped abs and a tight Speedo. “Sam,” she said as she touched her friend’s arm.

  Sam turned back, quickly understood what was going on, then lifted her phone to snap a couple pictures of me. “One more of your driver’s license.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re going off somewhere with my girl, I want some photographic evidence of who you are.”

  Huh. Not a bad idea. I complied, setting down the pitcher before pulling out my license, which she captured with clean efficiency. I watched their faces closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of recognition. This would be so much easier if they were fangirls, but no such luck. I wasn’t in a small town in Nebraska anymore.

  “Stay smart and text me all the details!” Sam said, blowing Heidi a quick air-kiss. Then she turned back to the Hispanic dude who was slowly edging out the dull-witted Speedo guy. But I only had eyes for Heidi. Was she really about to go to dinner with me?

  Meanwhile, Heidi stretched up on her toes to see beyond the crowd. “Is it good crab?”

  “No idea. Never been there. But it’s got to be less crowded than this.”

  She nodded. “I need to get more clothes on.”

  Not on my account. But I liked the idea that she didn’t want to strut around in a rapidly drying shirt.

  “My bag’s in back,” she said. Together we moved through the crowd to where the bartender had stowed the contestants’ purses. It was hard going, but I pushed my way forward to force everyone back. She seemed to appreciate it, as she pressed tight to my side.

  Warm woman, sweet curves. My hard-on started throbbing in hunger, but I ignored it the best I could. This was about spending time with her, at least for now. Maybe, if I was really, really lucky, things would go my way later on. I had a brief moment of confusion as to why I was taking such care with her. This sure as hell wasn’t my usual MO. But then I pushed it aside. She was what I wanted right now, and I was happy to delay some gratification to hang with her.

  She shimmied on a pair of shorts right there and I got to enjoy the sight of her body slinking into soft cutoffs. She looked over her shoulder at the bathroom, but it was the opposite side of the bar, so I touched her arm.

  “There’s a bathroom at the restaurant,” I said.

  She nodded and then pulled her beach bag tight to her chest as if hiding behind it. It wasn’t large enough and I didn’t like the way she hunched forward, as if suddenly embarrassed. I leaned in because of the noise and spoke into her ear.

  “What happened to that bold dancer on the stage?” I asked.

  She turned enough to arch a brow at me. “The tequila wore off.”

  Not true. The Asian glow still brushed her face and neck with red, but I let it go. I’d already guessed she’d done the contest on a bet and now the daring was wearing off, not the alcohol.

  “You were amazing,” I said.

  “They’re just breasts,” she said as she hunched a little farther.

  “Amazing breasts,” I countered. “And I liked you even without the wet tee.”

  She unfolded enough to flash me a confused look. “Really?”

  “It was the way you danced,” I said, struggling to put words to my thoughts. “You liked moving that way, and we just happened to be there watching.”

  Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but then we got bumped by a guy lurching toward the bar. I’d seen him coming and moved to block him. That meant I took the brunt of his two hundred-plus pounds as he pushed me into Heidi. Not a hardship, and also not exactly accidental on my part. I liked wrapping her protectively in my arms. Better yet, I liked the feel of her against me as we maneuvered through the crowd out to the restaurant.

  Sadly, that didn’t last long. Ten feet beyond the bar, we could move freely. I had no excuse to press her slim shoulders to my chest and let her scent tease my nostrils. Ginger spice barely noticed beneath vanilla sunscreen. I loosened my hold and should have released her shoulders, but I didn’t want to. She let me keep touching her until we got to the restaurant, and she visited the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later in the same outfit, except underneath, she was now wearing a bra. The tee was thin enough that I could just make out the outlines of pink lace, but that was all, and disappointment flared for a moment while we were escorted to a table on the terrace.

  For something called a “shack,” this restaurant was more high-end than my meager bank account could afford, but that didn’t seem to matter when Heidi gave me a shy smile from over the menu.

  “My treat,” I said before fiscal responsibility reared its ugly head. She was worth it. “So are you a dancer back home?”

  “What? No. I’m a junior at Butler University. Journalism and philosophy major. You?”

  “Math at Nebraska, but my real major is baseball.” If anything was going to give away my identity, that would do the job. But instead of a sudden gasp of recognition, she tilted her head in confusion.

  “How do you major in baseball?”

  “I’m the Husker heavy hitter. I’m heading for the minors as soon as this semester is over.” I hoped. I was being scouted by everybody and the buzz was that I was a top pick. Assuming, of course, I played well this coming weekend. Big game, lots of scouts, huge possibilities. But I wasn’t focused on that. Right now was about relieving stress, not holding onto the pressure.

  “Congratulations!” She put enough force behind her words to seem enthusiastic, but I could tell she didn’t understand it. Not how big an accomplishment this was. How few guys could claim even this much. “I’m going all the way, Heidi,” I said, a little defensively. “I’m going straight to the majors and intend to break the home run record.”

  Now her eyes widened, and a bit of awe came into her face. “So, you’re like a big deal then.”

  I nodded and felt heat flush my face. It was stupid to be humble about this now. I was the one who’d brought it up. Maybe I was ashamed to be bragging to someone who didn’t get it. Or maybe I just felt like a dumb jock next to the double-major smart kid. To cover, I switched the conversation back to her. “So, um, philosophy. Is that—?”

  “No wait,” she interrupted. “Tell me more about this baseball thing.”

  I frowned. The thing is, I can talk baseball all day, but the way she said it was throwing me. What exactly did she want to know? My RBI? My home run average was really impressive, but only if you understood the sport. Or was she asking a more general question about the sport itself?

  She flashed me a self-conscious smile, obviously seeing my confusion. “You said you’re going all the way. Can you tell me why, exactly? I mean, I’m sure you’re good, but why are you great?”

  I could tell she wasn’t trying to insult me. She really wanted to know. But what bothered me was that I didn’t have a good answer. “I, um, hit home runs. A lot.”r />
  She nodded, her attention focused almost uncomfortably on my face. “So what makes you hit a lot of home runs? I mean is it just genetics? If so, that’s going to top out in time. The majors are the elite of the elite. At some point, everyone else will have great genetics, too, right?”

  I stared at her, trying to form a good answer. I was trying to impress this girl, but she was pushing me to admit to all my secret fears. Was I really good enough to go to the majors? Would I bomb out in AAA?

  “Um, I practice. A lot. And my coach pushes me really hard. It’s a miracle he let me come down here for spring break.”

  I knew her response even before she said it.

  “Doesn’t everybody practice hard at that level?” Then she reached forward and touched my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a pain. I just really want to know. About you. Why are you such a great athlete and someone else isn’t?” Then she wrinkled her nose in a kind of apology that I found really cute. “I’m being awful.”

  “No, no. You’re just…” Asking a question that I can’t answer. “I don’t know why I’m so good.” God, it almost hurt to say that aloud. But in a good way. As if looking at a wound I didn’t even know was there. “I mean, what makes me such a great player? What are my strengths, other than godlike hand-eye coordination?”

  She smiled. “Maybe that’s the answer.”

  No, it wasn’t. And that bothered me. Because stepping into the minor leagues meant this was my career now. Not something I did because I loved the game or wanted to pick up girls. I had to get serious about it at a new level.

  She touched my hand again. “You’re not talking.”

  “Because I’m thinking. I have natural talent, but my coach doesn’t let me slide on anything. Drills, practice, nutrition. If I show up five minutes late, he adds a half hour of calisthenics. He’s all about discipline. I had to beg to come here.”

  “Why’d he let you go?”

  “Because the entire team got three days off, including me. He wanted me to stay on campus, but my friends are here.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like he’s a hard-ass.”

  “He is, but it got me my chance. This Saturday. In front of four scouts.”

  “Wow. Are you nervous?”

  Terrified. Excited. And confident in a panicky way. “I just have to stick to the plan. Enjoy spring break, then when I go back, it’s all baseball, all the way.” Had to be, because Coach swore that if I showed up late or hungover for practice the day after tomorrow, he’d bench me for the big game. “It’s my chance. I’m not going to blow it.”

  “I believe you.”

  Simple words, but they warmed me inside and out. Then I shook my head. I was on a date with a gorgeous girl. The last thing I needed to do was dig into my sports psychology. “Let’s talk about you. You’re studying Plato and stuff?” And didn’t that just show how dumb I was? Especially since I pronounced it “Play-Doh” when I knew that wasn’t right.

  “It’s the I-suck-at-science major for those who are still finding themselves,” she said. “Did you always want to play baseball?”

  “I never wanted to do anything else.”

  She tilted her head and her dark hair spilled over her shoulder. “I envy that,” she said.

  “No passion?”

  She shrugged. “There’s lots of things I hate. Chemistry and biology sucked. Math was like climbing a mountain just to see if it could give me a migraine. English is okay. Who doesn’t like reading? But some of it was just boring. Dickens uses way too many words.”

  “I never even tried. SparkNotes.”

  She giggled and her cheeks pinked. “Me, too.”

  We were back on good footing, so I pushed her a little. “But there must be something you love. Something that sets your heart beating fast.”

  “My parents think I’d make a good lawyer. I’m considering it. I take the LSATs in a couple months.”

  I dropped my chin on my palm. “That doesn’t sound like a great passion.”

  “It’s not. What I like isn’t a career.” She shrugged. “In fact, it’s kind of dumb.”

  “It can’t be dumber than planning a future where a sprained ankle could destroy your livelihood.” That was one of my big terrors. I had a weak left ankle.

  She laughed. “Okay. I really like asking difficult questions.” She leaned forward in her seat. “You know, that question that sets a teacher back on his heels because he never thought of something that way. Or the one that shuts up the know-it-all or makes all your friends go ‘huh.’”

  “Like asking what makes me a good baseball player?”

  She looked away, but with a smile that told me she was really pleased. “Yeah. Maybe like that.”

  “Maybe exactly like that.”

  And then we laughed, because she was right. She was really good at asking questions.

  “Sounds like you’d make a good journalist,” I offered, and her eyes widened.

  “I think so, too,” she said, and her tone made me feel like I’d just given the winning answer in a game show. “But my parents think law is the safer bet.” She sighed. “The pay is better, and there are always jobs.”

  I touched her fingers and squeezed. “Parents don’t know everything. You should follow your dream.”

  She flushed as she met my gaze, and I read hope and excitement there. Like she needed encouragement to strike out against parental pressure. I was still lost in her expression when the waitress interrupted. Our hands split apart, and we gave our orders. I was grateful Heidi didn’t get anything too expensive, and we settled in for a get-to-know you date. We had almost nothing in common beyond our basic midwestern upbringings. That meant siblings, fall allergies, and a hatred of snow. She was the stereotypical Chinese girl, who studied constantly and played violin in her spare time. I was the baseball jock who studied enough to get by, so I could get back to playing games.

  But eventually we found some common ground. I had a real love of statistics, mostly as it pertained to baseball, but also where it touched economics, marketing, and other real-life things. For her part, she had a vast knowledge of sports movies that hit my happy button. I’d always had a secret lust for smart girls. When other guys drooled over the cheerleaders, I was hiding my boner in chem class and when watching the debate team. Heidi put all those early girls to shame. Her brain was by far the sexiest thing about her, and that was saying something considering how hot her body was. I was completely enthralled by the time we finished dessert and coffee. The sun had started to set, and the restaurant hostess was giving us the evil eye.

  “Want to take a walk on the beach?” I asked.

  She smiled in that way that didn’t show her teeth but made her eyes sparkle. I’d been admiring it all evening and to see it now, felt like getting the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. I held out my hand and she took it easily. Her fingers were small but firm as I took them in mine. The beach was a loud and busy affair, but farther down by the water offered more privacy. I headed there, and eventually whole expanses of empty sand stretched out before us. She was talking about hating violin drills, and as she spoke, the wind blew a strand of dark hair across her cheek. She reached up to brush it back, but I was there before her. I stroked it back from her cheek, then kept my hand right there cupping the back of her head.

  It was one of those magical moments when nerves didn’t make me awkward. Honestly, I’d never been this smooth in my life. Or maybe she was just so perfect that I didn’t think twice. I leaned down and kissed her. A soft press on her lips. A nibble against the curve of her mouth. And when she smiled, I pushed in for the real deal.

  Chapter Three

  Heidi

  OMG OMG OMG! My thoughts were spinning while my heart pounded in my ears. He was kissing me, and I was letting him. His lips were sweet and gentle, and the way he just leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine simply overrode my senses. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d just gone for it. Not too fast, not too slow. I’d
had enough time to know this was happening, and then his mouth was on mine.

  Why did this feel so perfect? We could talk so easily. I’ve never shared so much, so quickly, with a guy before. He set me at ease, and when he smiled at me, my heart stuttered. He laughed when I made a joke, he teased me when I felt uptight, and he looked at me like I was the most important thing in his world. It was so much, so fast, and I…I loved it.

  Holy shit, why couldn’t I stop thinking? Especially as he brushed back and forth over my mouth, setting my lips to tingling. Then he nibbled at the edges, and who could resist opening up to that? I’d just met the guy. At a wet T-shirt contest, no less. And here we were kissing on the beach. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to do more, do it all. With him. It was insane, but my God, it was perfect. He was everything I wanted. No wrong notes, no alarms warning me away. Just full throttle ahead. And I was not a full-throttle kind of girl.

  “I can hear you thinking from here,” he said, his breath heating my mouth. He’d only pulled back a half inch, but he was so right.

  “I’m just…I don’t usually do this.”

  “It’s okay. It’s spring break. Things happen.”

  “And it’s just a kiss, right?”

  “Right. Nothing more.” Then his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Unless you want more.”

  I did want more. I really did. I always knew I’d eventually meet a great guy that would be the love of my life. I expected a husband and kids, but not just yet. Not at twenty-one. And yet, here I was, seeing a whole life with him laid out in my head. And it was wonderful.

  I set my hands on his chest, feeling the broad expanse of his muscles. I had no idea how big baseball players were. Strong hills, taut valleys. I wanted to touch him just like this for the rest of my life. Lust surged in my blood, and I dove headlong into it. Tight nipples, liquid pulse in my belly, and need pushing me to tease him, to see if he was as aroused as I was.

  It took me a moment to become as daring as I wanted to be, then I did it. I brushed across the tight nub of his nipples and grinned when he trembled. Then I brushed them again, just to see if what I’d felt—through him—was real. It was. His body tensed and he cupped my face. We’d been walking side by side before, but now he was directly in front of me. Had he angled to me? Had I shifted to face him?