Girl at Heart

by Kelly Oram

  Table of Contents

  TITLE

  ALSO BY KELLY ORAM

  NEWSLETTER

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  THANK YOU

  ONE OF THE GIRLS

  ABOUT KELLY ORAM

  by Kelly Oram

  Also by Kelly Oram

  Serial Hottie

  Joni, Underway

  If We Were a Movie

  The Ghost of You and Me

  Sixteen Kisses

  The Cinder & Ella Series:

  Cinder & Ella

  Happily Ever After

  The Jamie Baker Series:

  Being Jamie Baker

  More Than Jamie Baker

  Remember Jamie Baker

  The Science Squad Series:

  The Avery Shaw Experiment

  The Libby Garrett Intervention

  The V is for Virgin Series:

  V is for Virgin

  A is for Abstinence

  The Supernaturals Series:

  Chameleon

  Ungifted

  Scion

  FREE READ! SIXTEEN KISSES, BY KELLY ORAM

  All Cassie Caldwell wants for her sixteenth birthday is to finally be kissed. When Cassie’s older brother and his best friend—the lovable, sexy cowboy, Jared—discover her secret, Jared takes it upon himself to make sure her birthday wish comes true.

  SUBSCRIBE to Kelly’s newsletter to get your free copy!

  Published by Bluefields Creative

  Copyright © 2019 by Kelly Oram

  Edition 1.1

  Edited by Jennifer Henkes (www.literallyjen.com)

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-7341812-0-3

  For all my fellow baseball fans.

  Today’s the day all of my dreams come true. Eric Sullivan will finally be mine. I’ll confess my undying love for him, he’ll ask me to prom, and we’ll get married and live happily ever after, making cute little baseball prodigy babies. Or… He’ll reject me, and I’ll die of both embarrassment and a broken heart. But either way, this pining after my best friend thing ends today. As soon as I work up the guts to come clean.

  “Hastings!”

  I shake myself from my mental pep talk—which isn’t really working—and look around, trying to figure out who’s calling my name.

  “Yo, Charlie!”

  Diego Escobar, the Roosevelt High Ravens’ varsity center fielder, is standing at the back sliding glass door, giving me an impatient look. Once he has my full attention, he points his thumb over his shoulder. “You care if I eat the leftover pizza in the fridge? I’m starving.”

  I pull myself out of the pool with a roll of my eyes, and Kevin Jones, our third baseman, climbs onto the diving board with a groan. “Dude. You’re always starving.”

  Diego makes a face. “Whatever. You eat more than I do.”

  I laugh. “Kevin eats more than everyone.”

  Eric, the pitcher to my catcher and secret love of my life, nods toward Kevin from where he’s leaning back on the steps of the pool, resting his elbows on the pool deck. “Yeah. The proof is in the size of his butt.”

  We all laugh at Kevin’s expense. Eric isn’t wrong, though. Kevin’s butt is a little on the big side. Kevin scoffs. “You’re all jerks.”

  Diego snaps his fingers at me to gain my attention again. “So, can I?”

  I wave him off. “Have at it.”

  He disappears into the house, and the rest of us go back to our contest of doing flips off the diving board. It’s only the beginning of May, so it’s 75 degrees at most today, but the pool is heated, and it’s tradition for my friends to come over once we finally have the pool uncovered for the summer.

  Kevin, Eric, and Diego have been my best friends since T-ball, back before we all realized a girl playing baseball is weird. We clicked right away, but we became thick as thieves once other boys in the league started making fun of me or telling me that girls can’t play baseball, and Eric, Kev, and Diego started having to defend me. Sure, the three of them can give me all the crap they want, but if anyone else does, they’re going to get punched.

  I’m eternally grateful for all three of them, but I’m by far closest with Eric. It comes from us having to work so much together as catcher and pitcher. He also comes from a broken home, getting shuffled back and forth between two self-centered workaholic parents, so he spends most of his time with my dad and me. We’re together nearly 24/7.

  “Cannonball!” Kevin screams, taking a running leap off the diving board and pulling his knees up to his chest. The resulting splash is impressive. He surfaces with a huge grin. “Beat that, losers!”

  I snort. “We can’t. None of us have as big a butt as yours.”

  Kevin laughs. “Like you can talk, thunder thighs.”

  “I’m a catcher!” I cry, laughing to cover up how horrified I am by the taunt. “I practically live in a squat!”

  Sadly, Kevin isn’t wrong about my thighs any more than I am about his butt. I have huge thighs. It’s all muscle, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about it. At least I’m tall. (Five feet, nine inches.) And I have a decent chest. (D-cups, thank you very much.) My long dirty-blonde hair is kind of boring, but my big, blue eyes are pretty. I don’t think I’m hopeless in the looks department, but that doesn’t mean I want my guy friends all laughing about my thunder thighs.

  The guys all roar with laughter and only howl harder when I glare at them. “I hate you all. Go home.”

  “Aw, come on, Hastings,” Diego says, now standing on the back patio with a large slice of pizza. “You know none of us care what you look like.”

  “Not when you hit the way you do,” Kevin adds.

  I frown. “What’s wrong with the way I look? I’m not ugly.”

  Kevin pulls himself out of the pool and wrings his board shorts out on the deck. Diego shoves a huge bite of pizza in his mouth and talks with his mouth full. “I didn’t say you were ugly, but I’m definitely not checking you out.”

  He makes gagging noises, while Kevin shudders. “Yeah, Hastings. You’re like a brother to us.”

  I scoff. “A brother? Seriously?”

  I look to Eric with a silent plea for my defense, but he shakes his head and laughs. “You don’t exactly act like a sister.”

  Okay, that’s not boding well for the idea that he returns my epic crush. Unless…maybe that’s his way of saying he doesn’t see me as a sister, but he’s too chicken to admit he sees me as girlfriend potential. Yeah, I don’t believe that, either. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him.

  “Ugh! I. Am. A. Girl. You jerks!”


  The guys all crack up again.

  I push Kevin into the pool on my way to the diving board just because I can, and I sneak a glance at Eric, hoping that he’ll contradict Kevin and tell me he loves the way I look, and that I’m beautiful, and that he can’t go another day trying to hide his true feelings for me. And then he’ll scoop me into his big, strong arms, and he’ll stare down at me with those beautiful golden hazel eyes. He’ll smile softly at me and cup my cheek gently, then slowly, slowly, slowly he’ll lean down and—

  “Hastings!”

  “Huh? What?” Startled once again, I look around, praying none of them caught me ogling Eric while fantasizing about our first kiss. All three of them give me strange looks. Eric looks just as confused—and, thankfully, oblivious—as the others, so I live to hide my crush another day. Or, at least, for a couple more hours, because today is the day I’m going to tell him. I swear. I’m totally going to do it.

  When our eyes meet, he cocks his eyebrows. “You just going to stand there all day, or what?”

  Right. I’m on the diving board. It’s my turn. Cheeks blazing red, I take a deep breath and jump. I mean to do a double flip, because I know I’m the only one of us that can, and I need to redeem myself after that embarrassing display of my daydreaming. Problem is, I’m distracted. As I jump, I slip, fall forward, and splat on top of the water like a bug hitting a car windshield.

  Even beneath the surface of the water, I can hear the collective “OOOOHHHHH!” of my friends. For years to come, the guys will razz me for this one. At least none of them had their phones out, so there’s no video evidence of my diving fail.

  I come up sputtering and can’t even be bothered by their hysterical laughter and taunting because every part of the front of me is stinging from the epic belly flop. Wading to the edge of the pool, I haul myself out of the water and roll onto my back with a groan. “Oh, it hurts.”

  “You okay, Charlie?”

  I glance toward the back door at the sound of my father’s voice. He’s dressed for work in his Pittsburgh Pirates polo and black slacks, and he’s holding up a cell phone with a wide grin on his face.

  “No, Dad. Tell me you didn’t.”

  “Oh, no, Chad, tell me you did,” Diego says, doubled over, holding his gut. “Please, oh please, tell me you got that.”

  Dad’s grin turns wicked. “The whole thing. It was a great shot, too.”

  Eric pulls himself out of the pool and crashes down onto one of the deck chairs. He grabs a towel and starts drying off his glorious chest.

  “I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you text me the video,” Kevin offers my dad.

  “No!” I shriek. “Dad, don’t you dare!”

  My dad, who loves to torture me as much as the guys do, laughs. But thankfully, he slips his phone back in his pocket. “You don’t have a hundred bucks, Kev,” he says.

  “Yeah, you don’t even have five,” Eric teases, flinging his towel over his head to dry his hair.

  “You owe me ten,” I say.

  Kevin sticks his tongue out at me and then does another flip off the diving board. I pull my aching body up and crash on the chair next to Eric, reaching for my water bottle on the small table between us. “Please delete that, Dad. I’m begging.”

  Dad smirks. “No, I think I’ll hang onto this video to save for your wedding day.”

  “Ha ha,” I say, though I might have to break into his phone later and delete the video, because I wouldn’t put it past him to actually play that video at my wedding.

  He winks at me, then scans the lot of us. “All right, boys, party’s over. Get out of my pool, and go to your own homes.”

  He laughs at the round of groans, protests, and straight-up whining he gets from the guys. “Can’t we stay and watch the game?” Diego pushes out his bottom lip and bats his eyelashes. “Your theater room is so much better than my crappy living room TV that I have to share with my little brothers and sisters.”

  Dad snorts at Diego’s pout. “Sorry. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I trust you all not to burn my house down while I’m gone. Especially you, Mr. Metal in the Microwave.”

  “One time!” Diego cries. “And I was eleven!”

  Dad smirks. “Still almost burned down my kitchen.”

  I pull my hair from its ponytail and start to scrub it with my towel. “Besides, I won’t even be here to watch it with you.” Because I’ll be watching the game from my amazing seats in the front row right behind home plate.

  My dad, the great Chad Hastings, used to pitch in Major League Baseball—mostly for Pittsburgh. He was awesome. Three-time Cy Young winner, six-time All-Star, and he won eight—count them, eight—Gold Gloves. He even pitched two no-hitters.

  After he retired, he got a degree in broadcasting and is now one of the commentators for the Pirates’ televised games. Once I was thirteen and old enough to sit in the stands on my own, he got me a pair of season tickets so I could come to work with him when the team is home. I’ve been going to all the home games ever since, and for just as long, the guys have all taken turns coming with me.

  Kevin shrugs and throws his arm over Diego’s shoulder. “So? Your theater room is still better than either of our TV viewing options. We can watch the game without you. Promise to lock up on our way out.”

  Dad smirks. “Nice try, boys. Go home. Your parents probably miss you.”

  I laugh. “That’s debatable. But go home anyway. And have fun watching the game from your crap living room TVs.”

  Eric slides up next to me and throws his arm over my shoulder, shooting Diego and Kevin a smug grin. “Yeah, boys, have fun. We’ll wave to you from the front row.”

  His arm feels like magic around my shoulders, and tingles shoot through me where our sides are touching. I suck in a breath and do my best not to start trembling or blushing.

  Dad laughs, and both Kevin and Diego scoff in disgust. “I take it tonight’s your turn?” Dad asks Eric.

  Eric grins. “Against the Cubbies, baby.”

  Dad narrows his eyes. “It almost sounds like your rooting for Chicago…”

  Eric gasps. “Chad, I would never!”

  I snort and elbow him. “Yeah, he just has a man crush on Bryce James.” Not that I blame him. I have a crush on Bryce, too. I mean, he is the most talented, friendliest, most gorgeous man in baseball right now. IMHO.

  Dad stops eyeballing Eric and chuckles. “Okay. Yeah. I get it. Even I can appreciate James. Their bullpen is one to beat, too. Should be a good game.” He claps his hands together as if he’s calling us all into a huddle. “All right, Eric and Charlie, hurry and get ready. We’re leaving in twenty. Kevin and Diego…go home.”

  Kevin and Diego both sigh long, suffering sighs, but they pick up their things and head out. Eric and I both hit the showers. Separately, of course. He uses the one in the guest room that’s basically his since he stays over a lot when Dad’s on the road or his parents are MIA, while I run upstairs to my en suite and use the twenty minutes to psych myself up for the evening. Because tonight’s the night. I’m going to tell him. I’m definitely going to come clean. I am. I can feel our relationship forming already.

  I wait to make my move until the eighth inning. Not because I’m a chicken and can’t seem to get the words out, but because I’m a giant chicken and can’t seem to get the words out. Also, there’s the fact that if I’d asked in the first inning and he rejected me, then the rest of the game would be super awkward. I figure the eighth is late enough. Plus, it’s one of those one-to-nothing games. (Super exciting.) I’ll take any kind of drama I can get at this point.

  The pitcher releases the ball, and Eric sighs next to me. “Your dad wasn’t kidding about the Cubs’ bullpen. Castillo’s knuckle curve is a work of art. It truly is. I need to learn to throw a pitch like that.”

  I watch Castillo let loose another pitch. Slider. It looks almost as good as his knuckle curve. “You learn to throw a good knuckle ball, and you’ll have every team in the league
fighting over you instead of just half of them.”

  The corner of his mouth tips up, but his eyes stay on the pitcher. Fastball in. “As long as it’s the same half that’s fighting over you.”

  I roll my eyes, but my heart warms at the praise. Eric elbows me. “When we get drafted, we’ll just have to stipulate in our contracts that we go together. I don’t want anyone else catching for me.”

  I sigh. As much as I love the encouragement, it’s unrealistic. No girl has ever played in the Majors. My dream stops after high school. End of story.

  “Hey.” Eric finally takes his eyes off the game to frown at me. “Don’t give me that depressed sigh. You know there’s no rule in Major League Baseball that says girls can’t play.”

  “Yet, no girl ever has.”

  “So you’ll be the first.”

  “Pipe dream. I’m done at the end of this season. You know it, and I know it. It was fun while it lasted, though.”

  Eric glares at me. “Charlotte Hastings, you are the best hitter in our division, and you have the best stats of any catcher in the state. You have every bit as much of a chance as the rest of us, and you deserve it even more because you work twice as hard as all of us put together.”

  That isn’t true. Eric works just as hard as me. Dad’s been coaching us both since we were four. And a good lefty pitcher is hard to come by. He already has tons of scouts watching him. As long as he finishes this season without getting hurt, he’s a shoo-in to get drafted out of high school.

  It won’t work that way for me. That’s just reality. Still, if Eric wants to tell me I’m good enough to play in the Majors, who am I to stop him? The thing is, he’s not just saying it. He genuinely believes it. I may be a realist, but Eric will be surprised when no college or pro teams come knocking on my door.

  Eric throws his arm around the back of my chair and gives me a squeeze. I want to melt into a giant puddle from the hug. Eric’s hugs are second only to Dad’s. “Don’t be down on yourself,” he says. “Things will work out. You’ll see.”

  He squeezes me again and then leaves his arm on the chair behind me. My heart races into overdrive. He’s got his arm around me! That’s new. Maybe I do have a shot. And speaking of… I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. “So…” I clear my throat. “Total subject change here, but…”