Sliding Home: A Baseball Romance

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  She smiled cheekily and leaned against the case. ‘Are we still talking about my suitcase?’ She laughed, blushing majorly before gathering her composure.

  I appeared to have left mine at the foot of the fucking steps.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked, glancing at me.

  ‘Brad. What’s yours?’

  ‘Jessica, but everyone calls me Jess,’ she replied.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Jess.’

  I nearly pulled a muscle by the time we reached the top of the stairs. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and smiled, attempting to hide my grimace when I saw her watching me with a smile that I had an urge to kiss.

  ‘Heavy, isn’t it? I should have just given everything away, but then I’d have nothing to wear, and that could be a problem.’

  ‘Clearly,’ I mumbled as I admired her ass for the twenty-fourth time. She pulled her lip under her teeth when she caught me. Bloody adorable. She pushed her wavy blonde hair behind her ear. A flash of gold gleamed as her earring caught the light. I noticed tiny gold rings stacked on her fingers. Hands had always been a weakness of mine. Right under the curve of her thumb was a tiny tattoo of a black star. Hands. Yep, totally my thing. I started imagining what those hands could do to me until a ping of ‘what an ass’ crept into my thoughts. It was unsettling and unfamiliar.

  The hard clatter of wheels was the only noise I could focus on as we walked side by side. We’d both gone quiet. I was desperately thinking of a conversation that didn’t start with: ‘Let’s forget our flights and book a hotel room with a hot tub,’ but whichever way I put it, I was in danger of coming across as a creepy bastard, baseball star or not. I’d stepped a fine line between bastard and sex god before, particularly in recent months, but there was something about Jess that held my interest.

  ‘Thanks for your help; you’re a gem, Brad.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ I replied, wincing as I realised I couldn’t straighten my knee.

  ‘Are you in pain? Is it your knee?' she asked as she bent down and put her hands on my kneecap, totally unabashed and confident in her touch like she’d known me forever. The natural instinct to have her naked and screaming my name kicked in. I looked around for a discreet corner or empty store cupboard, but that ping of ‘what an ass’ zapped through me again. ‘My mum is into healing. I think it’s the warmth,’ she said, smiling up at me.

  ‘I have an injury.’

  ‘What have you done?’ she asked.

  ‘I play baseball. I’ve got a torn ligament that’s being stubborn.’

  ‘But you’re English.’

  ‘Last time I checked.’

  ‘Sorry, it's just you don't expect a baseball player to be English. It's an all American sport. Helmets, a flash of paint across the cheek, cheerleading, that sort of thing.'

  ‘You’re thinking of American football,’ I replied. ‘We don’t have cheerleading in baseball.’

  ‘Well, I know nothing about baseball. I just assumed all English people were the same.’ Her hands were still circling my knee and I had to reposition my jacket to hide the semi that was really close to her face.

  ‘I'm beginning to get the hang of it,’ I said. She obviously didn't have a clue who I was. Normally, I was arranging threesomes just to handle the number of women that threw themselves at my cock. Talking to a girl who didn't know me and certainly didn't care about my fame was refreshing. Weirdly refreshing.

  ‘So, how does a Brit become involved in baseball?’ she asked.

  ‘I moved here when I was eleven. I stood out because of my accent and I wanted to fit in.’ Her hands felt so good on my knee. ‘You’re a miracle worker. I’m pretty sure I’m cured.’

  She snorted. ‘I don't know if it works but it gave me an excuse to touch you, so I went with it,' she replied, biting her lip.

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, I’ve been having terrible trouble with a groin injury —’

  ‘Maybe another time,’ she replied, laughing.

  I cringed at the innuendo too brazen to miss. I was letting my cock rule my head again. I could imagine Carl’s voice shouting as he tried to field calls from the press who had witnessed me adjusting my cock as I left the airport toilets, Jess trailing behind with smeared lipstick and a smile. I had to remain focused. This was my last chance to turn my career around.

  ‘It was nice to meet you,’ Jess said, already starting to back away, making it easy for me to make the decision to put my career, not my libido, first. ‘Promise me you’ll try acupuncture for your knee,’ she shouted. ‘My mum swears by it.'

  We both nodded and smiled awkwardly, like two teenagers on a first date. But as she walked out of sight, I tried to fathom why I felt like I had missed a fucking great opportunity.

  3

  The departure lounge was busy and I had been spotted by a cute kid wearing a Florida Falcons jersey. I signed it for him and had a quick photo, side-stepping the inevitable question of when I would be playing again. I found a relatively quiet seating area and pulled my baseball cap down over my eyes, praying I wouldn’t be recognised.

  A gasp caught my attention. ‘I knew it was you.’ I looked up to find Jess in front of me. I’d never been so happy to see another person in the whole of my life. ‘Are you following me, Baseball Brit?’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ I said, laughing as I fiddled my cap down instinctively. ‘I’ve already been recognised.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she replied, her face falling.

  ‘That’s my nickname.' She looked puzzled. ‘Baseball Brit.' Finally a flash of recognition.

  ‘Ah, so, how famous are you? I mean, are you Johnny Depp famous or Hallmark Christmas movie actor famous?’

  ‘Depends on where I am when you ask,' I replied. ‘In England, I can go anywhere, but here, I need a disguise if I don't want to stand out.'

  ‘Impressive,’ she said, studying me.

  ‘Is this your flight?’ She nodded and smiled broadly, her blue eyes catching the light.

  ‘I must look a mess. I’ve been up since stupid o’ clock,’ she said as she combed her fingers through her hair. She didn’t look a mess. She looked perfect. Who was this gorgeous girl in her tiny denim shorts? She had a scarf bundled up around her neck, leopard print—fucking roar—and a black biker jacket pushed up to her elbows. The girl was dressed for England from the hips up but dressed for Florida from the hips down.

  Christ, my cock was aching. As she sat down and crossed her legs, I fought the urge to groan.

  ‘You’re a leg man, aren’t you?’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘You haven’t stopped looking at them since we met. In fact, I caught you looking when you were hauling my case up the stairs,' she said, smiling.

  ‘That’s where you’re completely wrong. I was, in fact, looking at your ass. Which, I have to say, is pretty fucking spectacular.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my legs?’ she asked, clutching her chest in mock horror.

  ‘I like your legs and your ass. In fact, I like every damn thing.’ The fast rise and fall of her chest told me she liked my confession.

  ‘Keep talking,’ she said.

  ‘You also have great hands. I've imagined them in places I'd like you to get to know better.'

  I kept my voice low and sexy for added effect. I shouldn’t have. She laughed as she threw her head back.

  ‘Are you serious? Do you know how cheesy that line is?’

  ‘It’s not a line,’ I said immediately, unsure why I was trying to defend myself when she was absolutely right.

  ‘I know your type, Baseball Brit. You have the good looks to get away with your cheeky banter. I’m sure you have a different girl sitting on your cock every night,’ she said as she smiled. My eyes dropped to her mouth. ‘It’s easy for you; flash them your smile, give them a cheesy line, and touchdown!’

  I leant in. ‘You’re thinking of American Football again.’

  ‘I’m definitely not thinking of American football,’ she whispe
red.

  This girl. This fucking girl.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I said, our faces so close I could feel the heat from her open mouth. ‘More importantly, where the fuck have you been?’

  ‘See, great line.’

  ‘Not a line, I genuinely want to know,’ I replied.

  ‘Here and there. Nowhere important.’ She smiled and everything became brighter.

  ‘Do you have secrets? Have I been an unwitting accomplice in your crimes by carting around a dead body in your strawberry suitcase?’

  She laughed. ‘No, I don’t have secrets. No dead bodies. I just have plenty of things that I'm embarrassed about and I don't want to tell you because, for some reason, I want you to like me.' She pulled away from me, sadness reflected in her eyes.

  ‘You’re hard not to like.' Her smile turned shy but I knew something raucous and loud was hiding behind it. I didn’t know her; how could I after a chance encounter? But I was certain Jess was a girl who wasn’t afraid to dance in front of strangers, albeit with an amazingly sexy blush.

  ‘Things are complicated for me right now.’ She tried to laugh but I could tell she was wrestling with something big. ‘But you’re lovely, and you have the most beautiful smile.’ I watched her pull her lip under her teeth again. I wanted to run my thumb across it to encourage it back out.

  ‘Well, you’re in luck because things are complicated for me too.’

  ‘This is your boarding call for flight E567 to London Heathrow.’

  She stood up and took her passport out of her pocket. ‘Come on. It’s time to face the music and go home.’

  4

  ‘Well, at least now you can spend the next nine hours explaining the rules of baseball to me,’ she said, smiling in disbelief as she checked her boarding pass for the third time to make sure she was right. We were sitting on the same row of the plane with just one seat between us, which led me to try to make sense of the situation. I struggled to come up with a fathomable answer apart from: Holy crap, this was meant to fucking be!

  ‘You must be really pleased,’ I deadpanned.

  ‘I am. I’ve thought of so many baseball innuendos.’

  A stern looking bloke dressed in a white dress shirt and suit trousers reluctantly moved his airline blanket and stood up for me to sit down next to the window.

  ‘You think I haven’t heard them all?’ I said, leaning forward.

  ‘Depends on who you’ve been hanging out with. I have a filthy sense of humour.’

  ‘Give me your best,’ I replied.

  ‘I bet you’ve heard the classics. First base, third base, that kind of thing.’

  ‘I'm a third baser, so I've heard them all,' I smiled.

  ‘Now that’s a joke in itself,’ she smirked. The guy next to us shifted in his seat and gave out a huge sigh. ‘How about comparing the size of your cock to a baseball bat.’ I coughed unexpectedly. ‘Already heard that one?’

  ‘Funnily enough…’

  Suddenly, the guy in between us unfastened his seatbelt and started gathering his things together. ‘As much as I’m enjoying your highly intellectual conversation, how about we switch seats?’ he huffed. Jess hid her smile behind her fist.

  ‘Fantastic, thank you,’ I replied, swapping seats awkwardly. ‘Sorry if we disturbed you.’

  ‘After nine hours, I'm sure cock jokes will lose their shine,' he replied, putting in his ear-buds forcefully to make a point.

  ‘What’s his problem?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘I know. As if cock jokes could ever lose their shine.'

  She laughed again before studying me for a second, thinking. ‘How’s your knee?’

  ‘Nothing an acupuncturist can’t sort,’ I said, trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘Don’t roll your eyes at alternative medicine. I bet you’re so used to physiotherapy and pain medication that you’re not open to anything else.’

  ‘You mean the normal stuff that works,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘You’ve clearly been brainwashed by the baseball people,’ she replied, searching for the right words but failing.

  ‘You mean the qualified physiotherapists and club doctors?’

  ‘Come back to me when you’ve tried acupuncture and we’ll talk again.’

  ‘Will do,’ I said, stretching my leg.

  I watched her as the safety demonstration video played—her pretty blue eyes, her deep dimples, and all that fucking hair that I couldn’t help imagine spread across my pillow. She was more than pretty. She was unfathomably beautiful.

  ‘Talk to me. I don't like take off, especially when it's dark,' she said as she pulled her scarf around her chin.

  ‘Think of it as candlelight, like soaking in a bath with tea lights dotted around the bathroom.’

  ‘I’ve never done that.’

  ‘You’ve never had a candlelit bath?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought women loved that shit.’

  She snorted loudly and put her hand over her mouth. ‘You’ve made me snort, you bloody arse!’ She was laughing, which was good. Laughter was better than panicking.

  ‘What about a candlelit meal for two?’ I asked, completely obvious that I was fishing for information about her love life.

  ‘It’s usually a meal for one. They don’t light candles in takeaways,’ she replied, completely serious.

  ‘That’s pretty fucking sad,’ I laughed. ‘You should be taken out on the best dates.’

  ‘Is that an offer, Baseball Brit?’

  I considered for a moment. I hadn’t been on a proper date in months, choosing to meet random strangers in clubs over any meaningful interaction. ‘I haven’t dated in forever,’ I replied. My last relationship ended over a year ago when I was told my career would always be my first love and she was tired of being the other woman. Immediately, one-night stands became easier to fit into my lifestyle.

  I glanced at Jess. She was biting the side of her mouth and gripping the arm rests so tightly her knuckles were white. She needed a distraction, and as words always seemed to come easily for me, I carried on talking. ‘If we went on a date, I’d take you out for a meal.’

  ‘Candlelit, obviously,’ she replied.

  ‘We would go for a walk along the Thames; I might even book a pod on the London Eye so we could see the skyline.’

  ‘Romantic.’

  ‘Or maybe see a show. Your choice.’ Her eyes were closed but she was smiling. ‘Then, once you’d fallen for my charms, I’d invite you back to my apartment and tell you how good you’d look lying in my bed. Freshly fucked.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ she laughed. ‘Do I need to tell you that’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard?’ I was trying to distract her but I was also really interested in her reaction. Her flushed cheeks told me it was pretty fucking good. But my distraction technique didn’t last long. Jess frowned before wrapping her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders anxiously. ‘I'm not going to lie; this is worrying me slightly. I'm not good with take off or landing.’ She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly as the plane gathered speed.

  ‘Are you always like this when you fly?’ I asked, watching her shake.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not good with transport in general. I used to get travel sickness as a child. Forgive me if I vomit on you.’

  ‘Already forgiven.’

  ‘Oh fuck, are the oxygen levels going down? I'm fighting to grab air here.’ She clutched her top and started balling it up in her fist. ‘Is it just me or do you feel the same way? How are your lungs, easy breezy? I'm struggling.’ She continued grasping my hand as she leant into my shoulder. Her breathing started to settle when I encouraged her to count slowly. I instinctively stroked my thumb across the back of her hand, and when I glanced at her, she was biting her lip again, suppressing her gigantic smile. ‘Thanks,’ she said, glancing back at me. ‘I’m such a coward. I surprise myself sometimes. I always had myself down as a strong, independent woman, but look at me now.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with showing weakne
ss sometimes,’ I smiled.

  ‘It’s happening quite a lot,’ she replied.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘Nah. I prefer running away to talking.’

  ‘Me too. But sometimes it helps.’

  We were looking at each other like we were trying to work this all out. Was there more to this chance encounter? Maybe it wasn’t a chance encounter at all but something bringing us together because our lives were so fucked up someone wanted us to catch a break.

  ‘Tell me your story,’ I asked. ‘I want to know who you’re running from. Don’t leave anything out.’

  She took a deep breath and nodded slightly as if she was permitting herself to let it all go. ‘I'm not running away from someone; I'm running away from something.’ She paused as if thinking about what she wanted to say next. ‘I’m an actress. At least I was until this morning. I had an audition.’

  ‘I’m guessing it didn’t go great?’

  ‘Could have gone better. I had a character audition for Disney. I cleared my savings to come out, but I wanted to see the parks, get lost in the Disney bubble and hopefully get a job as an added bonus. I could see myself as Rapunzel. I’d even plaited my hair for authenticity, but I got the time wrong and found myself in the stilt artist audition.’

  ‘You don’t do stilts?’ She raised her eyebrow like I was fucking mad.

  ‘So, from this week I have no career. I’ve decided to walk away because I just can’t do it anymore. I have no home, no car and no money. I’m going to live with my parents in their box room at twenty-four-years old. Fuck, I’m a joke.’

  We both looked out of the window but the lights against the dark only highlighted our reflections. I was looking at hers and she was looking at mine and suddenly everything seemed OK in that moment. We could take the time to stare at the reflections of two people at the start of a huge turning point in their lives just trying not to be frightened or feel totally fucking alone.

  ‘I knew when I woke up this morning that this day was going to be awful. The worst day in the history of me,’ Jess said. She laughed nervously and I wanted so desperately to kiss her, to thread my hand through her hair and to hold the back of her head until I made her shiver and squirm from just that kiss.