The Ninth Inning Page 2

  Christina Travers. The one girl who had been my constant since I started going here. At least, she had been until I finally cut her loose one hot night last August after a disastrous summer ball performance. It was Cole Anders’s self-preservation at its finest. I was sure someone somewhere would have been proud, although I had no idea who.

  Seven months. Seven torturous months since I’d laid eyes on her. At least in person. Attempted online stalking definitely didn’t count. After that night last summer, she’d unfriended me on all social media and made her profiles private. I’d asked Christina to disappear from my life, and she’d given me exactly what I’d asked for. And I fucking hated it.

  I tried in vain to find pictures of her online whenever I missed her, which was more often than I was willing to admit, but she’d made it impossible. She’d even gone so far as to block all of my friends and teammates, so I couldn’t get to her through them. She’d always been smart. Except when it came to me.

  I watched as she made her way toward the keg, which Chance and I still stood next to like we were its bodyguards. Her light-brown hair spilled around her shoulders, and I stopped myself from reaching out and grabbing her like she belonged to me. She didn’t. And I’d told her that more times than I cared to remember.

  “Hey, Chance. Hey, Cole.” She gave us both a small smile before reaching for a plastic cup and pulling the black nozzle toward it.

  I didn’t think I’d even responded. She seemed so composed, so ... unaffected by my presence, and here I was, coming undone from the inside out.

  “Here, I’ll get that for you,” Chance said before taking her cup and filling it up.

  The only thing that stopped me from raging at him, even though I had no right to, was the fact that I knew he wasn’t flirting with her or trying to get in her pants. Chance was just being nice.

  “Thanks.” She looked at me once more and hesitated, those blue eyes saying something I couldn’t quite decipher, but her friends screamed her name from inside the house, and the spell broke.

  Her eyes tore away from mine, and I stood there like some kind of love-struck fool as she walked away without another word. I watched her hips move from side to side with each step she took, silently berating myself for letting her go.

  I convinced myself it was for the best. Baseball came first. It had to. End of story.

  Of Course He’s Here

  Christina

  I had known that coming to the party tonight was a mistake. But that was all I seemed to do when it came to Cole Anders—make mistake after mistake. He was my own personal dark-haired, five-eleven kryptonite. I couldn’t resist him if I tried. And dammit, I’d tried.

  I’d been trying since freshman year. I was a senior now, so clearly, it hadn’t worked. Although I’d been really good the past seven months at avoiding him, making sure I wasn’t in places where I knew he’d be. It was too hard to see him and not give in. Any pep talks to stay strong that I’d given myself flew right out the window if he was around. And he knew it. Cole had always known the effect he had over me. I used to pretend that I had the same effect over him as well, so we were at least even in our fuckedupness, but it was a lie. I lied to myself all the time when it came to him, apparently. But I was done with all that.

  I had very little life experience to pull from when it came to guys like Cole Anders, so everything about college athletes’ real relationships and the idea of love were brand-new to me. If this were a class I was getting graded on, I’d currently be getting a big, fat F.

  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t ever dated in high school—because I did. But not that often, and I’d definitely never been in love before. Trying to compare the boys from my high school to the guys here at Fullton State was like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. There was no comparison. Life here was different ... and exactly what I craved. Fullton State had been my chance at a fresh start. The opportunity to get away from my small city in the valley where everyone knew everyone else.

  After witnessing a vicious lie being spread around school about my best friend, I’d steered clear of all parties, jocks, and most guys. I watched how quickly someone’s world could go from inspiring to devastating. That was when I started getting interested in social media and its influence on society. And why I’d chosen to major in it and planned to work with people nationwide.

  I wanted to make a difference, but I wanted to do it with integrity. Something the internet seemed to lack in gross amount these days, no matter how hard people tried to pretend otherwise.

  #RealLife.

  #NoFilter.

  #Bullshit.

  After that night in August, I’d decided that Cole Anders had broken me for the last time. If he could look me in the eyes and tell me he didn’t want me and never would, then it was high time I actually believed him.

  When a girl liked a guy, we simply wanted him to like us back. And we had a really hard time believing that he didn’t or that we couldn’t change his mind. Why did we girls not believe the things that guys said to us? We never took their words at face value, always searching for hidden meanings or trying our damnedest to figure out what he really meant when he had basically laid it out point-blank. My guess was that it was all the contradictory hook-ups, the late-night phone calls, the kisses, and the occasional sex. It made us think that the words were the lies and the actions were the truth. At least, that was what I’d been telling myself since the first night I met him freshman year.

  I’d finally decided to believe Cole’s words. Screw his conflicting behavior that had left me feeling more confused than anything else. Forget all the times he’d told me he needed me when the sky was dark, only to act like he didn’t when the light finally came.

  That hot summer night was when I’d realized that whatever we had been doing all these years, even though it had never once been defined, was done. Cole had never been my boyfriend. Sure, we had slept together a handful of times, but he’d never once asked me on a real date. And I was done feeling like a fool because of it. How had I allowed this much time to pass, only to find that we were still in the exact same place? It was embarrassing. And I was embarrassed.

  There had been times over the last seven months that I truly thought I was over Cole. And then the urge to text him or see him would wash over me so strongly that I felt like I’d made no progress at all. In times like those, I’d pull up the note app on my phone and read what I’d typed there.

  Don’t you dare call him. Do not text him. He doesn’t want you. He looked you in the eyes and told you he didn’t want to be with you. He told you to disappear from his life, so give him what he asked for. Silence speaks volumes. And it hurts a hell of a lot more than any words ever could. Hurt him back the same way he hurt you—by pretending he doesn’t exist. You’ll thank me tomorrow.

  I was pathetic.

  At least, I felt like it each time I had to read that stupid note.

  Why was it so hard to get over someone who was never truly mine to begin with? I was tired of being that girl—the one who waited around for a guy who’d never asked her to wait in the first place. I’d been there for Cole the last three years, taking the scraps he had given me like a starved animal and begging for more. I’d allowed it all to happen. I recognized that, and I accepted responsibility and acknowledged my role.

  Each time we had been together, I had hoped for a different outcome. And yes, early on, I realized that was the definition of insanity, but while I was living in it, it didn’t feel so insane. It felt more like a part of life, growing up, figuring out who you were and who you wanted to be. My mom had always said that relationships were hard work, and I’d assumed this was a part of what she meant.

  You see, I was the one Cole had texted whenever he was sad or down. It was me he called when he had a bad day. It was me he reached out to when he needed a friend, an ear, or someone to talk to. I considered the fact that maybe I wasn’t the only girl he reached out to in his time of need, but I wasn’t convinced that
was true. The talks we shared were not things you simply told anyone who was willing to listen. And Cole wasn’t the type to spill his guts to random girls even if he was the type to screw them.

  Cole’s conversations with me were personal.

  Private.

  Intimate.

  And ours.

  He gave them to me. And I cherished them. Like a silly schoolgirl with a crush, thinking I was getting insight into a man that no one else had gotten to see. I’d thought it made me special. In the end, it’d only made me stupid.

  I found myself replaying our moments together, my finger hovering over the Delete button on the single selfie I had of the two of us in my phone. It was the first night we’d met, when we sat on top of the parking structure until dawn. He said we should remember the moment as he fished out his phone and pulled me tight against him before asking for my phone number so he could send it to me. We looked so sweet, so innocent, and so ... hopeful.

  I remembered thinking that it was the beginning of something bigger. That we would look back at that night as the one that had started it all for us. I’d stupidly thought we had something more. And over the years, I’d tried to convince myself that I wasn’t just a casual hook-up. But what followed after was always a stab to the heart. I knew he hooked up with other girls; I heard all about it whenever I walked across campus or sat down in class. It sucked, having Cole’s sex life thrown in my face, but he wasn’t the only one screwing other people.

  I went out with other guys, but nothing lasted, nothing stuck. Not the way that Cole seemed to. I definitely hadn’t been an angel during my college years so far, but I wasn’t sleeping with a new guy every week either. And Cole was the only one who seemed to be a constant presence, blowing in and out of my life like the wind, always coming back, no matter how far away he had gone.

  When my roommate and best friend, Lauren, had suggested we come to the baseball party in the first place, I’d wanted to ask her if she’d lost her damn mind. She was the one person who knew all of Cole’s and my history and had been there to witness most of it. Just last month, she’d offered to cut off his nuts for me if it would make me happy again. I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t—happy, that was—but she had been right. That night in August had taken something from me.

  Lauren and I’d met in the dorms our first year even though we had been assigned to other suitemates.

  She was convinced that her roommate was going to get kidnapped because she “doesn’t pay attention to anything! Ever! She’s always on her phone, staring down at it instead of looking at her surroundings!”

  I remembered laughing at what she’d said because most teenagers were like that, but Lauren had been deadly serious. I stopped laughing and started nodding furiously, promising that I’d pay more attention whenever I walked alone. She seemed satisfied with my answer and declared us friends. We’d been inseparable ever since.

  So, here she had been tonight, pushing for me to go see Cole in person, when I’d been doing so well at avoiding him for months.

  I grimaced and shook my head, proclaiming that it was a really bad idea, but she still insisted we go. She told me it was a test.

  “I hate tests,” I whined.

  “But this one’s important.” She jutted out her hip and placed her hand there.

  “Please tell me why I’d willingly put myself in this position? I’ve been doing so well,” I asked, waiting to hear her logic.

  If I wanted to see Cole in real life, I’d go to a baseball game. And I hadn’t done that so far this season even though I knew it was his last one.

  Like I’d said, I was done making a fool of myself for him.

  “To prove to yourself that you’re over him. Once and for all. Cole Anders cannot have this effect on your life forever. And I’ve got twenty bucks that says you’ll see him and feel nothing, but we won’t know until we try.” She pulled out a twenty and waved it around in the air like a maniac. “It’s been seven months. We need to see.”

  She sounded so convincing in her argument that she actually had me believing I needed to know how it felt to look at him in real life, too, instead of just on the baseball website. Which I didn’t look at ... often.

  And that was how I’d found myself here, at the baseball house, where Cole lived, dreading the moment I’d finally see him. A part of me reveling in whatever his reaction would be to seeing me in person, too, considering the fact that I’d dressed the part. If I was going to prove that I was over him, I was going to do it looking as hot as possible.

  Please don’t be with a girl. Please don’t be with a girl, I repeated the mantra, irritated that I even cared in the first place, as I walked through the house in search of beer.

  Someone pointed out the keg in the backyard, and I made a beeline for it. If I was going to run into Cole tonight, I needed a little liquid courage running through my veins.

  I stepped into the yard, and my skin suddenly prickled with awareness. He was close by; I just knew it. My eyes searched and quickly spotted him. He looked different, bigger, more muscular. Was he taller? Did guys still grow after twenty-one? It felt like I was seeing him for the first time. One look at Cole’s brown hair peeking through his backward hat, and I knew that I had failed Lauren’s test.

  He affected me. Looking at him affected me.

  No matter how much time had passed, whatever it was between us still existed. At least, it did for me. And that was why I should have turned around and walked right out the same way I’d come in instead of heading straight toward the keg where he stood with another unattainable ballplayer.

  Seven months of work down the drain with just one look. I was a fool for coming to this party, and now, I officially knew it.

  Girls Versus Baseball

  Cole

  “Christina seems like a cool girl,” Chance said as we both watched her walk away.

  She looked fucking gorgeous, and I was kicking myself for being such an idiot.

  I shot him a look. “Yeah, she’s great. You interested or something?” My tone came out bitter, jealous, and possessive. All things I definitely was whenever it came to her even though I had no right.

  Chance threw his hands in the air and made a sour face. “Not even remotely, bro. But you clearly are.”

  I palmed the side of my head, moving my hat up and down, thankful that no one else was hanging around the keg where we were; otherwise, I would have kept my mouth shut.

  “I don’t know what it is about that girl,” I groaned before bending over at the waist like I was struggling to catch my breath. All I wanted to do was follow her inside the house and make up for the last seven months, but I stopped myself. I had to.

  “Why haven’t you guys ever gotten together?” he asked.

  “We have,” I argued, sounding like an angry lunatic.

  Seven months without seeing her face had been seven months too long. I’d always known that I missed her, but I never realized just how much until I saw her. It was like a damn sledgehammer to the chest. Seeing her had knocked the wind out of me.

  “I just meant”—Chance shook his head before laughing—“why isn’t she your girlfriend? It’s obvious you like her. She clearly likes you. What’s the deal there?”

  Is it really obvious that I like her? And vice versa, I wondered but didn’t dare ask out loud.

  I glanced up at the mini white lights in the yard before shaking my head. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Look, man, I get it. When it comes to baseball and girls, it’s hard to maintain balance and focus. They both require a lot of attention, but only one of them talks back and gives us shit over it.”

  Nodding my head, I looked directly at Chance. “I won’t do girlfriends until I’m drafted. And I’ve always tried to keep her at arm’s length, but we keep sharing these moments,” I admitted, knowing that I sounded like a total pussy, but I wasn’t sure how else to word it.

  “Sharing moments? What kind of moments?” Chance questioned, knowing better than
to make fun of me, as he kept his tone serious and inquisitive.

  “You know, the kind of moments where you stay up, talking, and before you know it, it’s six o’clock in the morning and you’re watching the sun rise together and you don’t realize how tired you are because talking to this girl is way better than sleeping could ever be.”

  I hadn’t meant to say all that, but it’d spilled out.

  Christina had gotten to me like no other girl ever had. She’d been doing it since freshman year. We circled around each other, always gravitating back, and I never understood why. Or more honestly, I never tried to figure out why. It was a puzzle I had carefully avoided putting together, hoping some of the pieces would simply get lost along the way so I’d never have to. I drowned myself in other girls, in baseball, working out, and anything else to convince myself that I didn’t need her.

  “Can’t relate,” Chance offered with a shrug. “But it sounds nice.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, in theory, it does sound nice. But it’s my last chance at the draft. Who knows if I’ll get signed or not? If I don’t and she’s my girlfriend, I’ll blame her for it, you know? Make her the reason why it didn’t work out for me. Maybe we’d fought too much. Or spent too much time together. Or maybe she’d wanted to spend time with me when I should have been working on my hitting. That kind of shit.”

  He stared at me for a beat before nodding. “You know, I get it. Of all people, I get it. But what if she’s the right girl and you let her go? You know how hard it is to find a chick who understands this lifestyle?”

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t considered it before. The thought had entered my head on more than one occasion, but I usually filed it away for later. Much later. Baseball and the draft now. Christina and relationships later.