The Strike Out

by Quinn, Meghan

  He lets out a harsh breath as his head falls back.

  “Are you there? Or do you need more of this?” I reach back and take his balls in my palm again. Playing with every sensation, I take great pride in the way he’s breathing erratically, in the unfiltered groans falling past his lips.

  “Fuck, Harmony. Ahhh, fuck, I’m going to come.”

  I pump even harder, and just like he said, he comes, his roar echoing over the bricks and dying against the walls, never bouncing farther than the secluded square we’re in.

  My hand slows and when I fully pull away, he lets out a hearty laugh and opens his eyes to glance at his shirt.

  “I fucking knew it.”

  “What?”

  “You made me come all over my only shirt. Which means one thing. I’m going to need my shirt back.”

  In his dreams.

  Chapter Eleven

  HOLT

  Have I ever ejaculated in a hammock before?

  That’s what you’re wondering, right?

  The answer is no.

  No, I have not.

  I’ve never ejaculated in public if we’re getting technical. Never in a car either. It’s always been under a roof. Boring, I know, so to say my mind was blown just now is an understatement. But not because of the setting, because of the girl sitting next to me in my car.

  I wasn’t planning on getting my hands . . . well, fingers wet. I was hoping for a possible goodnight kiss, a hug if anything. But a fucking orgasm in a hammock? Free access to her sweet spot to get her off? Hottest fucking moment of my life. What the hell did I do to deserve that?

  And this wasn’t some ordinary orgasm. This was—looks around—this was groundbreaking shit. Things I’ve never even done with myself. She touched things I wasn’t sure were worth touching, things that have me wondering if I need to bring a mirror between my legs and examine that special button down there she was tapping.

  “So, uh . . . you’re good at hand jobs,” I say awkwardly as we drive toward her apartment.

  “That’s how you’re going to break the silence?”

  I grip the back of my neck and face her when I stop at a red light. “I might be this smart and refined male, but when it comes down to it, a beautiful girl just played with my ding-dong, and it’s all I can think about. So, yeah . . . you’re good at hand jobs.”

  She chuckles, her smile a work of art as it pulls at her full lips. “Cosmopolitan has really good tips. A girl at work always has one with her and when I’m on my break, I read them.”

  “Well, can you thank her for me? Because, Christ, woman, you touched places I wasn’t sure even mattered.”

  “Yeah, really got you going there.”

  Am I blushing? I feel like I’m blushing. I shouldn’t be. I talk about sex all the time, but hearing her boast about pleasuring me until I come makes me shy.

  Probably because I came really fucking hard, and because of that, I’m now shirtless and driving her home.

  “You did, but I wasn’t the only one with their eyes rolled in the back of their head, crying out like a feral cat in heat.”

  Her head tilts to the side in disagreement. “I was not crying out like a feral cat.”

  “Your pussy sure was.”

  “You know, when you say shit like that, it reminds me that you’re just another idiot jock who thinks with his penis rather than his head.”

  “Right now, the penis is in control. He’s wondering where his new friend just ran off to.” I lean over, eyes still on the road, and whisper, “That new friend is your hand.”

  “I got it.” She laughs and shakes her head. “God, why didn’t I tell you to get a life this morning when you first came over?”

  “Because you knew something great was brewing between us and you want to see where it goes.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  I take a right and slow the car down, knowing I’m getting close to her place. “Is it on the right or the left?”

  “The right, up past the black Mercedes.”

  What I know of Harmony isn’t much, but I do know she doesn’t seem to like rich people, and yet, she’s living in one of the wealthier parts of town. I park behind the Mercedes and say, “This area is really nice.”

  “Yeah, not my choice of living, but Priya and I want the security and splitting it in half has really cut down on the costs. Plus, it’s safe, and I’d rather pay extra to be safe than save money and live in a place where I share a toilet with cockroaches.”

  “Smart. I heard cockroaches can be bossy.”

  Sighing, she reaches for the hem of my shirt but I still her arms.

  “Give it to me another day.”

  “Who’s to say I’m going to see you again?”

  “Me.” I take out my phone, unlock it, and hand it to her. “Enter your phone number so I can bug you with texts.”

  “What if I want this to be a one-day thing?”

  “I don’t suggest that.” I wiggle my fingers in front of her face. “Remember how these little fellas made you feel?”

  “I seriously can’t stand you,” she says. She enters her number into my phone and texts herself, the sound vibrating in her purse. Good, she didn’t fake number me. “Don’t be obnoxious with my number, you hear me?” She points her dainty finger at me. I lean over and kiss it.

  “I won’t.”

  She reaches for the handle of the car but then turns around to look at me. I still, waiting for her to lean into me, looking for a kiss. “I might be hard around the edges, but I know a good guy when I see one, and you’re one of them. Thank you for a great day.”

  “You’re welcome.” She opens the door, and I’m desperate, so I’m almost all the way across the center console when I say, “No goodbye kiss?”

  She shakes her head, while standing from the car but then ducks down so I can see her. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

  “Oh, but you give hand jobs?”

  “Exactly.” She laughs, the sound so goddamn beautiful that I want to leap across the car and pull her back in.

  “I would have rather had the kiss.”

  “Liar.”

  “One thing you should know about me is that I never lie.”

  “Somehow I believe you.” She gives me a small wave. “Good night, Holt.”

  “Good night, Harmony.”

  She shuts the door, spins on her heel, and jogs up the steps to her apartment. With one last glance, she smiles over her shoulder and then disappears inside.

  And that’s the last time I ever see her . . .

  Well, that’s being dramatic. It feels like forever after all the unanswered texts, missed calls, and ignoring me on campus.

  It’s the last time I see her . . . for two weeks.

  Chapter Twelve

  HARMONY

  Buzz.

  I glance over at my phone on the couch between me and Priya, quickly snapping it away from her eyes, but from the way she folds her arms across her chest, ready to spar, I’m guessing she saw the name on my screen.

  “Are you going to answer him?”

  I tuck my phone under one leg and turn my attention back to the Hallmark movie on TV. It’s a good one. Love Struck Café. It’s about a young architect named Megan Quinn who’s sent to her hometown to convince the townspeople to sell so her company can develop an entertainment center there. I think we all know what’s going to happen.

  Megan falls in love.

  Her jaded, big-city thoughts are squashed.

  And she rallies with the townspeople.

  Classic, wholesome Hallmark.

  Just what I need.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Priya says, reaching around and snagging my phone from me. She has my phone unlocked and she’s reading the text message before I can even figure out what kind of ninja move she just performed. “Oh my God, look at all of these unanswered text messages, Harmony.”

  “
What?” I grab my phone from her and check out the latest one. You think ignoring me is going to stop me from contacting you? You clearly don’t know me at all. I exit out of the text and turn my attention back to the TV.

  “What is wrong with you? Holt Green is everything you could ask for in a guy. Including magic fingers.”

  “I told you that when I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Liar,” Priya says, poking me. “You said he made you come harder and faster than any guy has before.”

  Facts, but I don’t need her using that against me.

  “I know that you’re my best friend and all, but I think you need to stay out of this one. I know what I’m doing.”

  “And what exactly are you doing?”

  “Trying not to get caught up in a fantasy,” I say.

  “A fantasy? How is Holt Green a fantasy?”

  “How is he not a fantasy?” I groan while slouching on the couch. “Attractive, athletic, funny, smart, extremely kind, big dick . . . likes me. That’s a fantasy. Men like that don’t actually exist. He has heartbreak written all over him.”

  “Or he has good guy written all over him and you’re too scared to take the leap.”

  That too.

  “You don’t know he’s a good guy,” I counter while twisting a strand of my hair around my finger.

  She laughs. Hard. “Oh, he’s a good guy. Did you know he’s come into the diner twice now looking for you? Instead of leaving, he sat at one of my tables and talked to me.”

  Uh . . . no.

  “And did you know he’s been by the house to try to talk to you, but you’ve been gone? And instead of badgering me, we went for a walk around the block.”

  Did not know that.

  “And did you know not once did he boast about himself, or try to hit on me. Ever.”

  I nibble on my bottom lip.

  “And did you know—”

  “Okay, okay. Enough.” I sigh. “Why have you kept that a secret?”

  “Because I was hoping you’d be able to pull your own head out of your ass and realize what a great guy he is. Apparently, I had more faith in you than I should have.” Turning toward me, Priya nudges me with her foot. “Seriously, Harmony, give him a chance. I think he’d be really good for you. Loosen you up.”

  “I don’t need to be loosened up.”

  “Ha, okay.”

  I push at her foot. “I don’t.”

  “I’ve known you for a few years now, Harmony, and I’ve seen you when you’re having fun and relaxed. That’s not you right now. And I know . . . I know you have a lot going on with trying to find an internship, paying for school, and keeping solid hours at the diner while attending classes. You’re keeping it all together and trying not to fall apart, but you also need to have some fun and, if anything, Holt is fun. You even said it yourself—the day you spent with him was one of the best you’ve had in a while.”

  “That was because of the music.”

  “You’re such a liar.” Priya laughs.

  Standing from the couch and taking my phone with me, I say, “I’m just not into fun right now.”

  “You’re scared of fun.”

  “That too,” I admit. “Thanks for trying, though. I’m going to make dinner and then get some sleep. With classes starting tomorrow, I’m going to need all the sleep I can get.”

  Gesturing to the TV, Priya asks, “Don’t you want to see what happens to Megan Quinn?”

  “It’s Hallmark. I’m pretty sure she’s going to have a change of heart and save the town from the evil corporation.”

  “Ugh. Why did you have to go and ruin that for me?” Priya groans with a smile.

  “I’m making some delicious Top Ramen. Want any?”

  She pats her stomach. “Had some for lunch. I’ll be digging into the rice cakes for dinner tonight.”

  “Look at us living large.” I chuckle and head into our tiny kitchen to fix myself dinner.

  Chicken flavoring today. Got to get that pretend protein in.

  Once I pop it in the microwave, I lean against the counter and unlock my phone. I scroll through the text messages from Holt. One after the other unanswered.

  Holt: Hey beautiful, care to talk to me today?

  Holt: Did you know the color yellow makes me hard every time I see it?

  Holt: I’m eating a giant vat of gummy worms. Care to join me?

  I close my messages and set my phone down. Gripping the counter, I take a deep breath and remind myself why I’m putting up a wall.

  He’s not real.

  He’s a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  You had way too much fun with him. He could ruin you.

  Satisfied with those answers, I grab a fork, and when the microwave beeps, I serve myself dinner.

  * * *

  “Harmony, you forgot your notebook,” Nicole says, coming up behind me.

  “Oh, shoot. Thank you.” I take the battered notebook from her and clutch it to my chest.

  “No problem. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” She waves and takes off toward the events center.

  Nicole is on the soccer team. I’ve known her since freshman year, when we shared an English class together and were paired up to correct each other’s papers. From there, we became class buddies. We never hang out outside of class or studying, which is kind of weird, but we’re good friends inside the walls of the school. I think it’s because she’s busy with training and I’m busy with trying to stay afloat.

  With a break between classes, I plan to head to the student union to enjoy my packed lunch. Just as I turn in that direction, I look up to see Holt Green casually sitting on the bench in front of me, long, muscular arms stretched along the back, staring me down with a “gotcha” smile spread across his face.

  Damn it.

  Pushing off the bench, he walks toward me, the swagger in his step eating up the pavement. God, he looks good. Worn jeans, a black Brentwood Baseball shirt stretched across his thick chest, and just enough scruff caressing his handsome face to make a girl weak in the knees.

  There’s only one reason Holt Green would be waiting outside my classroom on the first day of school, and she just so happens to be my roommate. I’m so not making breakfast for Priya tomorrow.

  “What a coincidence that I would find you here,” Holt says with a cocky grin.

  Still clutching my notebook, I look him up and down and then say, “What do you want?”

  He holds out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”

  “What? No.”

  “You can either hand me your phone,” he says in a stern, no-nonsense tone, “or I can make a scene. And trust me when I say I’m very good at making scenes.”

  Not giving in right away, I study him. Not sure if he means it or not . . .

  He smiles and then says loudly, “Holy shit, Harmony, is that you? I haven’t seen you since you wore—”

  “Okay, fine,” I say, pushing my phone against his chest, not wanting to know where he was going with that sentence, given what we did the last time I saw him.

  With a satisfied smile, he points the face recognition at me and then thumbs around in my phone until he nods. “Just what I thought—my texts were getting to you. You just chose to ignore them. Why is that, Harmony?”

  “As much fun as this seems, I’m hungry and have only an hour between classes. So, if you’ll step—”

  “Perfect, I’m starving too.” He drapes his arm over my shoulder and starts walking me toward the student union. “We can have lunch together. I had a pretty strenuous workout this morning and I’m ravenous.”

  “I wasn’t inviting you to lunch.”

  “Wasn’t looking for an invitation. We’ve some catching up to do.”

  How could I possibly forget how determined this man is?

  Succumbing to his presence, I walk with him to the student union, but I slip from under his hold and keep a good foot of distance between us. I might be having lunch with him, but I don’t need to fall victim to his
aphrodisiacal scent.

  “You know, I thought we made all this progress after we had our hands down each other’s pants, but here you are, skittish all over again.”

  “I see you haven’t lost your candor.”

  “That’s innate, baby.”

  I glance at him and he winks at me, causing me to heavily roll my eyes. “I don’t think I had enough coffee this morning to get through an interaction with you.”

  “I’m more than willing to breathe some life into you.” He tugs on my hand and pulls me against his chest, stopping us in the middle of the walkway. His thumb pulls down on my chin and he says, “Open wide. This will only take a minute.”

  Chuckling—unfortunately—I push him away and hurry to the student union, where I reach for the door, but I’m too slow and Holt beats me to it. He ushers me in, and when I turn toward the tables, he grabs me by the hand.

  “Food is over there.” He gestures to the sectioned-off food court with its multiple cuisines, such as Chinese food, American, a salad bar, and my favorite, the pizza bar.

  “I brought my own lunch,” I say, the smell of the pizza making my stomach lurch toward the food court.

  “What did you bring?”

  “Does it matter?” I ask.

  “Is it better than the pepperoni pizza I know you’re eyeing?”

  Damn it, he’s observant.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say, leaving him and going to a table in the corner while he heads to the food court. The pizza might smell amazing, but my wallet doesn’t think it smells good enough.

  I set my backpack on the table, quickly pull up my messages on my phone, and send a text to Priya.

  Harmony: I can’t believe you told Holt where I would be.

  Luckily, she texts back right away.

  Priya: Oh, I gave him your entire schedule. Not even sorry.

  Harmony: Priya, what the hell were you thinking?

  Priya: I was thinking that my friend needed some fun in her life.

  Harmony: I’m not making you breakfast tomorrow.

  Priya: Good thing Holt is delivering me a month’s supply of Pop-Tarts tonight.