Strike: Bases Series (Book Two)

by Grace, Hazel

  “What are you typing?” She ignores me as I try to peer over to see, but she purposely angles the phone away from me. “Taylor.”

  She hands the phone back over. “There.” My eyes soak in her text message, and I almost die.

  Me: May I suggest you telling boss man that I was getting hammered by Gavin in the bathroom stalls while you walked in.

  “Are you insane?” I gripe, still staring at the words she just sent. My best friend chuckles lightly, deeming her absolutely out of her mind.

  “He won’t expect that,” she says proudly, gathering back her magazine.

  “No crap because I’d never say that. You’re lucky you’ve never had to go toe to toe with Colson. I’ll gladly give you my spot.”

  She glances at me. “I’m not scared of Colson Hayes.” I tsk and avert my gaze. Easy to say when you’re not being pestered on a daily basis. “Oh, Sawyer, don’t tell me you’re that blind.”

  I raise a brow. “About?”

  She sniffs one of the perfume samples. “Colson is jealous of you and Gavin.”

  “Then he can go get his own girlfriend,” I chide.

  Taylor shakes her head. “No...he just wants you.”

  I scoff loudly. “Yep, it’s true, you are a nut job. Do you think that him trying to get me expelled and fired from my job will warrant cupid’s arrow being shot into my butt so I’ll fall head over heels in love with him?”

  My phone picks this perfect moment to vibrate in my hands again.

  Colson: I have something better in mind, but thanks for the suggestion.

  I look heavenward and extend my arm to show Taylor his text. “This is just going to get worse and worse.”

  “He’ll run out of things to do eventually.”

  “There’s that light at the end of the tunnel I was looking for.” I send her a glare and peer back down at my darkened screen. “Maybe I should just talk to Gavin about breaking up.”

  “And let him win?” Taylor rebukes, pushing herself up to sit. “I’m by no means a fan of Gavin, but you like him. And for you to submit to Colson’s demands, no, we’re not doing that. If he wants to play, we’ll play.”

  “I don’t want to play. I just want to live—”

  “A normal life,” Taylor drawls. “I know. You only say it every day of your boring existence.”

  I turn my slitted eyes toward her. “Thanks.”

  “Listen—” She flips her beautiful raven hair. “—I’ve known Colson since grade school. He used to be a cool kid, then he got hot and his dad died, which turned him into an asshole. His mom is a prick, and Gavin is one of his closest friends. He sees it as you’re stepping on his territory, and he’s freaking out about it.”

  “Then I’m going to step off it because I’m tired of this shit. I already told Colson that I wasn’t going to mess up their college plans. I’m not looking to marry Gavin or—”

  “But you could see why he’d be worried, right?” Taylor retorts. “He has nothing but his dream of baseball. He hates it here, he wants to play because it’s all he has left of his dad. And he’s freaking good at it.”

  “Then what do you suggest I do?” I counter. “You want me to bake him a cake every day for the rest of the school year and carry his books around?”

  “Um, no, Miss Dramatic-As-Shit. Maybe ask him to hang out with you guys, include him, I don’t know. Something has to change, or it’s always going to be like this between the two of you.”

  “He hates me. I’m pretty freaking sure that’s not going to change. We just got his bang buddy, the principle, fake arrested.”

  She shrugs. “I have an idea about that but...I’m not sure.”

  My eyes narrow. “If you tell me he likes me, you’re off your medication.”

  “Then I won’t.” She folds her arms. “It’s just a theory.”

  My phone vibrates in my hands, and I glimpse down with trepidation.

  Gavin: YOU’RE FUCKING COLSON???!!!!

  My eyes widen while my heart slams in my chest.

  What the hell did he do?!

  “What’s wrong?” Taylor transmits through my muddled thoughts. I turn my phone so she can read it, speechless. “That son of a bitch…” I exhale a heavy breath through my nose to keep from screaming.

  “Likes me, huh?” I sneer. “I think he likes me a little too much.” I can’t believe my ears when she actually starts to laugh.

  Again.

  She’s freaking laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I snap. “I’m so freaking glad that you’re having such a comical time with all this.”

  “An idea just popped into my head,” she voices through little fits of chuckles. “How far are you willing to go to get him to back off? Because I have a genius idea.”

  Ten years ago

  “You sure you wanna do this?” Ben asks again before taking my backpack from my hands.

  I turn my baseball hat backward and roll my shoulders. “Yep.”

  “That dude is fucking huge, man.”

  I peer over at him, bringing my cigarette to my lips. “Does it look like I give a fuck?” Ben rolls his eyes and steps away from me, leaving me on the outer rim of a small crowd of guys that have gathered around us.

  His name is Johnny Reed, Marine recruit, built like a brick house and probably only eats lean protein and hard-boiled eggs. Not an ounce of fat shows on his ripped body as he pulls one of his arms across his bare chest to stretch.

  I tug my Freemont shirt over my head, tossing it to Ben. “How much?”

  “Fifty bucks,” Ben replies. “Few side bets of ten bucks here and there. We’ll make about one-fifty easy.” I nod, not caring at the moment how much we make; it’s more for Ben, so we can fix his piece-of-shit car.

  I haven’t participated in one of these fights for awhile, but with the stress and irritation that has been floating around me lately, I need the outlet. A few of us country boys line up squabbles to make a few extra bucks, rules are simple: no biting, kicking your opponent’s balls, or headbutting. Everything else is fair game.

  “You ready?” Johnny hollers, cracking his knuckles.

  Ben glimpses over at me before saying, “Yeah, man. Whenever you are.”

  A wave of adrenaline slams through me as we step toward each other. Johnny is a good guy, fair fighter. He kicked my ass a few months back because I looked away for two-point-five seconds, and he got a nice uppercut on me. But he shook my hand, offered a good fight, and didn’t go boasting about it like a dickhead. I couldn’t get pissed off about that.

  This time, Johnny wastes no time starting the moment I toss my cigarette, using his left fist to swing on me. I jerk back, circling him while waiting for an opportunity to get a free sweep across his jaw without getting clobbered.

  Two days ago, I fucked with Sawyer’s job and got her fired, but it still wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough until they called it off.

  And everything just continued to get lousy and aggravating.

  I’m noticing things I shouldn’t. Focusing too much time and effort on making shitty comments toward her or observing why the guys on my team are always gawking at her ass. It’s because she won’t stop wearing shorts that go just past her ass cheeks or pay attention to where the fuck she’s bending over when she stretches.

  It doesn’t bother Gavin, he just shrugs it off, nonchalantly telling them to shut up and continues on with whatever dumb shit he’s doing.

  Me, on the other hand, I want to rip all their throats out. The drastic changes in my temperament oscillates from wanting to destroy her to wanting to protect her.

  It’s fucked up.

  Nevertheless, my plan worked when I got Tracy to text Gavin about me fucking her in the Burger Joint bathroom. I didn’t have to tell her what to do because the bitch eats, drinks, and shits gossip. And she spread that rumor like a forest fire before Smokey the Bear could put it out.

  It led to me not seeing Sawyer for forty-eight hours and Ben not letting Gavin near me be
cause he knows us well enough to recognize it’ll come to blows if we get close enough to each other.

  If I haven’t made myself fucking clear to the both of them by now, I’m not sure how much more vividly I can paint the picture.

  “You gonna throw a punch or what, Hayes?” Johnny complains, bobbing back and forth on his toes.

  “Or what?” I provoke. He jives and jabs, bobbing his arms when his fist misses my face, instead, it slams into my shoulder; my throwing shoulder.

  I clench my jaw, he didn’t mean to, Johnny isn’t a cheap shot by any means, but it still doesn’t stop my uppercut into his chin.

  I watch him stagger back, his palm cupping the spot where I hit him. Then he shakes his head, waving his free hand parallel to his neck.

  “I’m done.”

  I constrict my eyes. “What?”

  “I got a football game on Friday, man, I can’t—”

  “I have a game tomorrow,” I seize. “And you’ve already blasted me in the shoulder.”

  “I didn’t mean to, dude, I’m sorry. Just take the money, I call forfeit.” His buddies clamor and yell around us, pissed that our fight didn’t even last two minutes, feeding into my own irritation that he’s about to throw this fight that I need.

  A hand lands on my shoulder. “Let’s go ice that before it starts to swell,” Ben voices. “Coach will fucking kill you if he finds out you can’t play.”

  “Fuck him,” I bite out. Thirty seconds and two hits isn’t going to simmer down my anger issues or the fact that I need to release them.

  “Dude, he’s out. Let it go.” I clench my hands back into fists, knowing that I can’t punch Ben in the throat even though I really want to.

  “This is bullshit,” I mutter, snatching my shirt from Ben’s hands. Not only can I not get my aggression out by a paid fight tonight, but I’m so riled up that I can’t get these mixed-up thoughts out of my head.

  I shouldn’t feel so upset about a relationship that isn’t even mine. I should just let Gavin become a big boy and fuck himself over. I have myself to worry about.

  “I’ll fucking fight you,” a familiar voice barks out through my chaos.

  My lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile as I peer up to find Gavin walking through the crowd, already removing his hoodie. His eyes are trained on me for reasons I already know.

  I fucked with his girlfriend.

  Been fucking with his girlfriend.

  And I didn’t even get to reap the benefits.

  “Knock it off, Gav,” Ben warns, stepping in front of me. “You both gotta play tomorrow.”

  “Fuck off,” Gavin seethes, tossing his shit. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  I toss my shirt back over Ben’s shoulder. “Hold this.” I step into the circle that’s still encasing us and watch as Gavin removes his shirt.

  “I win, you leave Sawyer alone,” Gavin voices.

  I raise a brow. “And if I win?”

  “You won’t,” he deadpans, throwing his shirt on the grass.

  I shrug, we’ll see about that.

  We lap each other, sizing one another up, even though we’ve been friends for years. It doesn’t take long for Gavin to swing, missing me with his right but landing a blow to my ribs with his left. I counter his hits with a punch to his temple, shoving him away from me to gain some distance.

  “You’re fucking pathetic,” he growls, his face reddening. “All because your daddy died and you can’t—” I hook a fist to his ribcage, watching him cower back.

  “What was that?” I mock, positioning my elbows to hit him again. He touches his side, probably feeling a bruise forming.

  “She told me what you did.”

  “Yeah?” I convey, not surprised that she has. That stunt with Miss McMahon was a little over her head, and I have a feeling she wasn’t the only one behind it.

  Actually, I fucking know she wasn’t because I thought I recognized one of Taylor’s brothers while they were walking out of the school with my fuck buddy in cuffs.

  Small-town perks.

  Gavin lands his gaze on me again. “Yeah. I already told you to leave her alone.”

  I half shrug. “You already know I do what I want.”

  He strides toward me. “This shit ends now, Colson.”

  I smirk. “It will. Even if I have to pound it into your head that this shit won’t work. We were in this together, then you wanted to fuck the Virgin Mary.” I furrow my brows and take a small step toward him. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, asshole, we both know you won’t settle down with her. You like pussy too much, and you’re letting yourself drift from everything—our plans, our future.”

  “I’m not doing shit,” Gavin bites out. “Since when do you fucking get in my shit?”

  “Since you stopped giving a fuck about practice and decided to date her. With the way your grades are slipping, you won’t get a scout to grab you if you keep fucking around.”

  “I have time,” he counters. “We’re still going to college together.”

  “Are we?” I sneer. “You don’t give a shit anymore.”

  “Stay the hell away from what’s mine, dude,” he warns. “Don’t worry about the scouts, I’ll make sure we get to where we need to be.”

  I tsk. “You’re such a stupid motherfucker. You’re not smart enough to catch up like that.”

  “I’m smart enough to win this shit.”

  I exhale. He’s ignoring everything I just said. It wasn’t to be shitty to him. Gavin just didn’t pick things up as quickly, and if he wasn’t interested in it or it didn’t have a pair of tits, he disregarded it.

  “Then let’s go, dickhead,” I concede.

  Gavin swings, I dodge.

  He lunges, I step away.

  I jab him in the cheek, he totters back.

  I land a blow to his temple, and he sees black.

  Present day

  “You look absolutely stunning,” Myles compliments me as he pulls out my chair for me to sit. I bask in his praise because it took me over an hour to do my hair, makeup, and pick a dress. I settled on a red one, thanks to Taylor, who FaceTimed me while I got ready, and wore my hair to the side, exposing my right shoulder.

  I knew I had to look nice. We’re in Mayfair, two towns over from Freemont, at a fancy restaurant that I never knew existed, and I feel out of place.

  There are three forks and two spoons at the place setting with three glasses. I was good with a burger and fries, but Myles has been speaking highly about this place for the last four days, and I conceded since I knew he wanted to take me.

  “I’m surprised you aren’t half asleep at the table,” I voice, unrolling my silverware from a maroon napkin. “You’ve just got off a thirty-six hour shift.”

  He beams at me from across the table. “I was excited to see you.” I’m waiting for my body to swoon.

  His James Bond suit is perfectly tailored to his athletic body, his sculpted cheekbones are made for gods, and the way his eyes glimmer at me should be sending my body into overdrive.

  But it’s not.

  This isn’t going to work.

  Jake was right, and I bite down on the inside of my lip in frustration. One, because I hate when he’s right, and two, because I wanted it to work. I’ve listened to Jake chide me all day for leaving him in my apartment while I went on a date with someone who probably only had missionary sex and was embarrassed to get his dick sucked. Then Jake continued his scowling while Taylor begged me to try on the red dress in my closet and walked out slamming my bedroom door like a five-year-old.

  I feel bad about the situation. I’m starting to think Jake is afraid to lose me because we’re comfortable together. There is no planning dates or vacations, no long-term commitments or the prospect of us living together and sharing a cat. It’s been us for almost a decade, friends with benefits, a person to vent and cry to. And Myles poses a threat to that for Jake.

  Well, did pose a threat.

  Regardless, Myles does
n’t look like a missionary sex kind of guy to me, but that doesn’t really matter. Sex is pretty much off the table, and I’m lucky to even have him glance my way at all, let alone be on a date with him. Any woman would be happy to be sitting across this table from him.

  But, apparently, I’m a self-sabotager. I have to be, there isn’t any other explanation for it.

  Here I am, with a fuck buddy in my apartment and a gorgeous man who splits his free time between me and his daughter, and all I can think about is the other day in that foyer with Colson.

  His lips devouring mine, his cock grinding between my legs. I can’t stand him, but I love his body. I crave the way it makes me feel. I miss the outline of his fingers and the words that used to roll off his lips when we were teens. All the things Myles is professing to me now.

  How he missed me.

  How beautiful I am.

  I sink my teeth into my tongue, punishing it for desiring him and his taste at this particularly bad moment.

  “I recommend the scallops,” Myles chimes, peering down at his menu. “Do you like seafood?”

  “I haven’t had much of it, to be honest,” I reply. “Freemont likes its chicken and—”

  “Is this place too much?” he interjects. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.”

  I give him a smile. “No, it’s great, Myles.” I look down at all the silverware. “But you might have to walk me through all the forks.”

  He chuckles. “I can do that.” He places his menu down on the table as the waiter comes over and asks me what wine I’d like. Myles orders it for us and returns his brown eyes to mine. “So, I was thinking that, after a few more dates, you could meet my daughter, if you’d like.”

  My eyes expand. He talks about her all the time, I knew it’d come eventually, but I didn’t realize he was thinking so far into the future.

  I wasn’t, in this particular moment, because my traitorous mind was elsewhere. Somewhere with chestnut hair and mocha eyes that bore into me with hunger in his irises.

  “Um...sure,” I quip.