The Best Mistake

by O'Gorman, Cookie

  I’d lost the ability to speak a while ago, so instead I nodded.

  “Just don’t keep Captain over here too long. This team would fall apart without him.”

  And then he left me there.

  Not with Baylor, I gulped. But with the guy who’d I’d thought was Baylor. The brother who I’d so brazenly made a pass at, the one I’d straddled and kissed was actually…

  “Archer O’Brien,” he said, holding out a hand for me to shake, his eyes shining in the afternoon sun. “Sorry, you had to hear all that.”

  “No problem,” I said, voice paper thin as I took his hand. I couldn’t believe it. Only I could’ve made such a terrible mistake. Only I, Honor Tierney, bookworm extraordinaire, writing recluse, and apparent virgin-for-life, could’ve confused one O’Brien brother for another.

  But at least he didn’t seem to recognize me. I took a deep breath. That was something, I guess. Part of me was bummed, but the other part was incredibly relieved.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” he said. My relief died a quick death, suddenly replaced with panic. “You look familiar.”

  Heart in my throat, I said, “I don’t think so.”

  He just kept staring at me, eyes narrowed.

  After a moment (that felt like an eternity), he nodded.

  “Guess you just have one of those faces,” he said, releasing my hand, lifting his chin toward the bleachers. “Why don’t we go over there, so you can ask your questions?”

  “Oh yeah, thanks.” I tried not to think about the fact that he was behind me as we walked, tried not to trip because I knew that might jog his memory.

  Once we got there, he took the space next to me, not too close, of course. Not like he’d been the one to give me the most amazing kiss of my life. At least as far as he knew.

  “So,” I began, taking out my notepad and pen, trying to pretend like this was just another interview, nothing special, no reason to be embarrassed. “How long have you played baseball, Archer?”

  I watched as one corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Since I could walk,” he said, leaning back. “Never really wanted to do anything else.”

  “Have you always played with your brothers?” I asked.

  “Yeah, pretty much. Mom and Dad loved the game and passed that love down to us. Baseball has always been a big part of our family.”

  “So everyone in your family plays?”

  “Well, not my little sister,” he said. “She’s always been a bit of a rebel, but all five of us boys play.”

  “Five,” I repeated. “You have another brother who’s not on the team then?”

  “Oh yeah, Finn, my youngest brother. He’s seventeen, still in high school.” Archer nodded. “He’s not as into baseball as the rest of us, more of an academic type, but he throws a mean curveball.”

  “Speaking of which,” I said, “did you know this is the first time the University’s had four brothers playing on the same team? That’s a lot of O’Briens.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “there are quite a few of us. It can be hard to keep track sometimes.”

  My brow furrowed, wondering if he meant something by it, but he went on.

  “Luckily, we’re all so different, and our personalities kind of match our positions.”

  I leaned in, forgetting to take notes. “Oh, how do you mean?”

  “Take Dex,” he said, and I looked to where he was gesturing. “He’s up to bat right now. Kind of a hothead, but that works if you need someone who’ll go up to bat and isn’t afraid to swing, even at a nearly unhittable pitch.”

  I watched as the pitcher threw, and the batter, Dex, got a piece of it, landing it right in center field.

  “That was a line drive.” Archer pointed to the pitcher now. “And Chase is almost always perfect. He’s was born for this, one of the main reasons we’re in contention for a national championship. If you wait for him to mess up, you’ll be waiting a long time.”

  Another batter stepped up to the plate, and I watched as Chase pitched him three strikes, one after the other. It was the same story with the next batter. The last one just stood there dumbfounded.

  “Up and down,” he said. “My brother is a beast on the pitcher’s mound. Which brings me to his other half.”

  I knew there was only one name left I hadn’t heard and waited to see what position he played.

  “Baylor isn’t like the other two,” he continued. “He’s a little…unpredictable. Some would even say wild.”

  When the next batter came up to the plate, he did this odd little dance, where he hit one shoe then the other with the end of his bat, swung it around once and then pointed to the outfield. There were groans from his teammates. He was the one who’d done the keg stand, I thought.

  “Let’s go, Chase,” Baylor said from the batter’s box as he finally assumed his stance. “I’m not getting any younger over here.”

  “Cocky, too,” Archer added.

  The pitcher, Chase, just shook his head at his brother’s antics. Took his time, readying the pitch, and fired it off. The sound as the ball collided with the catcher’s mitt was loud.

  “Strike!” the Grouch said.

  “Oh, come on, Bear,” Baylor said. “It was high. Anyone could see that was a ball.”

  “It was a strike,” Archer called out. “Stop being such a baby, Bay, and get ready for the next one.”

  Baylor, for his part, just shot his brother the bird, muttering under his breath as he got back into position.

  “Maybe if you hadn’t spent all night partying,” Chase called, “you’d be able to get a hit off me.”

  “Oh, I’ll get a hit,” Baylor said. “Just need you to throw me a clean pitch.”

  “Stop playing around and bring me in already,” Dex shouted from first.

  The pitcher shook his head, and as I looked on, he threw a strike right down the middle. The third pitch was fouled out to right field. Each time, Baylor seemed to settle in a bit deeper, leaning in a little more, looking more determined.

  “And this is where things get interesting,” Archer said to me.

  “Really why?” I said.

  “Because Baylor hates to lose. And besides me, he’s the only one that’s ever been able to—”

  Just as he was about to finish, a loud crack rent the air. The ball was soaring out of the park before I could even blink, and there was Baylor, celebrating his win with a whoop before rounding the bases.

  “—hit a homerun off of Chase,” Archer finished.

  I turned to him with a smile on my face, watching them together was just too much fun.

  “And what position do you play?” I asked.

  “Usually catcher,” he said, “and third base, but I’m good at bat, can play any position.”

  I nodded. “You’re the best. That’s why you’re team captain.”

  “Ah I don’t know about all that,” he said, and my eyes widened as I thought I saw a blush sweep up his cheeks. “Chase is the real all-star. He could go pro if he wanted to.”

  “You look like all-star material to me,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat as he looked my way, piercing me with his gray eyes.

  “You sure we don’t know each other?” he said.

  “Yep, I’m sure,” I said, ducking my head and packing up as quickly as I could. I had enough here for an article. It was time to cut and run.

  “Because I could have sworn—”

  “Nope,” I said, getting to my feet. “Like you said before, I just have one of those faces.”

  Bear blew his whistle then.

  “Captain,” he said, “if you’re done chatting, we need you back over here.”

  I released a breath. Saved by the Bear (aka Coach Grouch). I owed him one.

  “We’re done here if you need to go back,” I said, still avoiding his eyes. “Thanks. For the interview, I mean. I think we’re good.”

  “No problem,” Archer said, “I’m glad you got what you needed.”

  I had just
turned to go when he leaned down, his lips right next to my ear.

  “And I like the glasses,” he said.

  My breath caught as he ran a hand up my arm.

  “I didn’t think you could look any hotter than you did last night in that red dress, but it’s a good look on you. Kind of like a sexy bookworm.”

  When I turned to look back over my shoulder, his face was right there, close enough to see the small scar bisecting his upper lip.

  “And again, the name’s Archer,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up. “That might be helpful for next time. I’ll see you soon, Honor.”

  As he released me to run back onto the field, I just stood there like an idiot.

  So…he remembered.

  Not just remembered, he’d recognized me, had known who I was all along.

  And had he just called me a sexy bookworm?

  And implied there would be a “next time”?

  Good grief. I didn’t think I could handle that. Nope, I decided. There was only so much awkward one person could take. If I didn’t see another O’Brien for the rest of my life it would be too soon.

  It didn’t hit me until much later.

  The full extent of the awkward.

  After the interview, I’d retreated to my haven, my favorite place on campus. The library welcomed me with open arms. It was quiet as usual; there were students scattered here and there, but I easily found myself a quiet table, lost in the stacks, where I placed my bag, computer and notepad, sat back and prepared to do my thing. I was on a mission.

  You’d think after that practice and my time on the baseball field I’d be ready to escape, and I was. But my escape came in the form of research. I threw myself into it, learning more about baseball and the O’Brien legacy than I ever wanted to know. I found out that Coach Daisy O’Brien had been with the school for nearly thirteen years. She and her husband, Tyler O’Brien, according to web articles, were two of the best, most well-respected baseball/softball coaches in all of collegiate history.

  Until about eight years ago when Tyler O’Brien died after a battle with cancer.

  Coach Daisy had taken the reigns of the baseball team after his death and continued to raise her six children on her own. My heart ached for all of them. Despite the tragedy, the Wolves baseball team, under the direction of Coach Daisy, kept winning, earning several bids to nationals.

  But the streak hadn’t started until four years ago.

  That was exactly when Archer O’Brien had joined the team as a freshman, where he broke nearly every baseball record the University had. The Wolves had climbed the ranks, had an awesome season, and finished it with a national championship. Then came the twins, Baylor and Chase. That season they built upon the success of the previous year, winning another championship, and with Chase breaking all of the records Archer had set the year before. Those guys really were born to do this, I thought, reading through the impressive stats, making notes along the way. When Dexter O’Brien joined the team, they took home yet another championship, though this one was hard won since everyone in college baseball seemed to be gunning for them.

  Legacy was an understatement, I thought.

  These guys and their mother had built a dynasty on that baseball diamond.

  And Archer had led them the whole way.

  His stats were out of this world, his work ethic supposedly unmatched, and the love he obviously had for his family when he’d spoken about them would’ve endeared him to me even if he hadn’t given me the hottest night of my life. Or called me a sexy bookworm.

  I still couldn’t believe he’d said that.

  I was so engrossed in my article that by the time I glanced at the clock it was already 10:00 pm. Quickly finishing up before sending it off to Walter, I was packing my things, double-checking all the names, when a memory of last night hit me with the force of a wrecking ball.

  “Oh no, no, no,” I said, then closed my eyes on a groan.

  I’d said the wrong name.

  Holy wow, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it before.

  Without the haze of pleasure, I recalled everything from that night with perfect clarity. Me, head thrown back, calling out “Oh Baylor” as I…after Archer made me… Ugh, was it possible to die of post-orgasmic embarrassment? Was that a thing? Because if it was, I was definitely destined for the grave. Oh gosh, what Archer must think of me.

  His last words from today replayed in my mind.

  And again, the name’s Archer. That might be helpful for next time.

  His meaning suddenly became clear—and I wanted to die all over again.

  How did one apologize for something like this? Was it even okay to bring it up? Certainly I owed him an apology for calling out not just anyone’s name, but his brother’s. Oh Lord, please just kill me now.

  After a moment, I forced myself to breath, my heart to calm.

  No worries, I thought. I’d completed the interview, turned in my article, and now, the O’Briens would disappear from my life as quickly as they’d entered it. I’d never have to face him again. And, I told myself, I wouldn’t speak of that night to another living soul. Though…I knew Charlie would probably wrinkle it out of me. She was my best friend. I’d never been able to keep anything secret from her for long. But besides her, I was determined to never speak of it again. Even if I did still feel kind of bad and want to apologize to Archer. This was it. Case closed.

  Time to go home for some ice cream therapy and a little R and R.

  “You didn’t,” Charlie said, staring at me wide-eyed, the spoon full of Rocky Road paused half-way to her mouth. “Don’t mess with me, Honor. You’ve got to be making this up.”

  “I wish,” I said, taking a bite of chocolatey goodness.

  “So let me get this straight,” she said, putting her spoon down. “You went upstairs, following the person you thought was Baylor O’Brien. But it turned out it wasn’t Baylor but Archer.” She looked to me, and after my nod, she continued. “And then after the most glorious make-out session of your life, he gave you an O with just his hand, and you shouted his brother’s name right at the moment of climax.”

  I nodded.

  Charlie sat back, shaking her head. “Honor, this is better than a freaking soap opera. You should seriously consider selling your story to Cosmo or something.”

  “Thanks,” I said, frowning down at the tub of ice cream. It hadn’t taken very much for Charlie to drag the truth out of me. She was good at it sure, but I blamed the ice cream and my guilt. “But do you think I should say I’m sorry?”

  “For what?” she said. “It sounds like Archer nearly got off on you getting off—which is a rare trait in a male. I’m jealous that you found such a rare specimen. But seriously, you don’t need to apologize.”

  “Yeah, but I kind of feel like I owe him.”

  “Hold up, chickadee.” She leaned closer, though it was only the two of us in the living room. “You owe this guy nothing, okay? Sure, he was the first person to ever see your O-face.”

  “Charlie,” I said, smacking her with a pillow, but she just laughed.

  “It’s a really common thing. People say crazy things in the heat of passion.”

  I tilted my head. “Have you ever said the wrong name?”

  “Sure, sure,” she said, and I began to relax. “Though I don’t think I’ve ever said the brother’s name. That’s just you.”

  I groaned and flopped back.

  “I’m kidding,” she said. “I’m sure it happens. For real, Honor, don’t sweat it.”

  We both turned as the door opened. It was a little past 1:00 am, but it was normal for Rose to walk in late. Younger than Charlie and me, she was a total night owl.

  “Hey ladies,” she said, taking a seat next to me on the couch. “I see the ice cream is out. What happened this time, Charlie? Did you finally find a guy who told you no?”

  Charlie smiled. “As if,” she said, “and this isn’t about me. It’s all about our little Honor over here
and her naughty night out.”

  “Oh really?” Rose said. She grabbed my spoon then helped herself to some ice cream. We’d been living together for a while and weren’t weird about things like that. “Tell me more. Work sucked, as usual, and I could use a good distraction.”

  I shot her a frown. “Don’t you have to get some sleep?”

  Rose shrugged. “Not really. I’ll sleep through the afternoon like always and wake up for my night classes, go straight to work at the tattoo parlor from there. These are like my peak hours of wakefulness.”

  “Ooh, can I tell her?” Charlie said. “Please, please, can I tell her about you and the brothers?”

  “Brothers,” Rose repeated with a smile. “Well, this just got more interesting.”

  With a sigh, I nodded. “But only if you try not to laugh at the embarrassing bits.”

  “Yes!” Charlie fist-pumped. “And I promise no laughter—or very little laughter, like the most miniscule amount I can manage.”

  “I promise nothing.” Rose held her hands out. “I’ll try not to laugh, but you know, I’m always a little punchy at this time of night. Plus, I have no idea what I’m in for.”

  “Oh, it’s good,” Charlie said with a grin. “Trust me.”

  “Can’t wait. Oh and don’t forget girls, our new roommate moves in tomorrow. Someone else has to be up to greet her because I’m probably going to be out like a light.”

  “No problem,” I said. “We’ll both be here.”

  Charlie waved her hands in the air. “Yes, yes, we’ll be here. But Rose, just wait until you hear about Honor’s night of debauchery. It’s so much fun. I can’t even.”

  Shaking my head, I watched as Charlie re-told Rose everything that’d happened. Even I found myself laughing a bit at her enthusiasm. We made it through about half the tub of ice cream before the three of us called it a night. Before going to bed, Rose took me aside and said, “Listen Honor, I know you’re embarrassed, but just remember. Tomorrow’s a new day with no mistakes in it.”

  “Yet,” we both said at the same time, completing the Anne of Green Gables quote.

  “And at least if you do decide to go and apologize to this guy, you can get your book back.”