Sliding Home: A Baseball Romance

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  Instead, I did what I was comfortable with. I made sex jokes until her hands stopped trembling.

  ‘I'm from Cambridge originally, but moved to London when I started being serious about my career,' Jess said.

  ‘Is that what happens? You’re supposed to get serious about your career?’ I asked, half joking.

  ‘Aren’t you serious about yours?’

  ‘I was before the injury,' I said, confused as to why I wasn't hiding my real thoughts behind a sarcastic line. ‘It was a stupid accident, but it's impacted on my life more than anything.'

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘In my position, you don't get a lot of reaction time. You have to be quick, agile and sure-handed.'

  ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she winked.

  ‘Baseball innuendos are a gift that keeps on giving,' I deadpanned, carrying on. ‘I caught the ball, ready to move towards first base.' She laughed and pretended to zip her mouth as I rolled my eyes. ‘To cut a long story short, I fell and tore a ligament. My life spiralled out of control from there.'

  ‘I'm guessing you cut the juicy bits from the long story. I want to know more about the spiralling out of control part.'

  I sighed deeply and rested back in the seat. My knee started to pulse with pain. Keeping it in one position for a nine-hour flight was going to be torture. But as I looked across at her, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be anywhere else; and by the way she was looking at me, she must have felt the same. I watched her mouth fall into a smile. Her lips were something else, a perfect curve along the bottom and a beautiful dip along the top.

  ‘Thank you for holding my hand through take off.’ She pushed her arm through mine and watched as I traced my finger across her tattoo. Everything inside me was saying I wanted to look after her, but that was ridiculous. I’d known her for less than three hours. I was Baseball Brit, the type of man who only knows a girl for one night. I didn’t make connections. I began to wonder why I felt like this when I was usually only willing to offer a girl a single night of hot sex, the kind that didn’t need feelings or emotions and ended as soon as the condom was dropped in the trash. I was supposed to be changing my reputation and lying low, not meeting a girl before I’d even crossed the Atlantic. I pulled my arm away from her, suddenly getting a dose of reality. She frowned a little as the change in my body language gave her whiplash.

  I pretended to rest my eyes, but inside, all I was doing was shouting, trying to figure out why I was thinking with my actual head and not the head of my cock. What would be my next move? Close my eyes again and hope she spent the next few hours watching the in-flight movies? But then it sank in; I would be sitting next to her on this flight for several hours and despite the ache she caused in my cock, she also intrigued me. I wanted to know more about her, the life she led and where she was going when we landed at Heathrow.

  ‘What was your last role?’ I asked as she looked at the floor in embarrassment.

  ‘Car crash victim number four in a hospital drama,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh. Great. Sounds amazing.’ I was going for upbeat but hoped I didn’t come across as sarcastic bastard.

  ‘I was dead. I had to lie on the road with a fake tyre on my chest. Not my finest moment. You know, I always wondered what defined me as an actress. Like, why does one person get chosen for car crash victim number four and another for the lead in the next big thing? I’m not greedy. It isn't an ego thing. I just want to earn a good living doing something I enjoy. I'd be happy playing car crash victim number four every day of the week if it paid the bills.’

  ‘It doesn’t?’

  ‘No, I ended up waitressing and doing a few other jobs I’d rather forget. It was a downward spiral from there. I’ve taken some shitty jobs just to eat. It’s amazing what you’ll do when you’re facing eviction,’ she said, avoiding eye contact. ‘All I could think about when I served plates of pasta was how much I wanted to be car crash victim number one. Her bloody face got shown for a full ten seconds. But then I thought, why the hell am I jealous of car crash victim number one? It’s still a shitty part.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve got talent.’

  ‘Hmm, apparently not.’

  ‘Hey, let’s not be negative. What was your best role, the one you're most proud of?’

  ‘I had a walk-on part in a soap.'

  ‘Maybe not career-defining, but it's a start.’

  ‘I did secure a coughing role in a promotion for cough syrup.’

  ‘Well done, you.’

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. She could laugh at herself, which was the most adorable thing ever. ‘Best role, you asked? The one I’m most proud of. Let me think about that one.' She sat up and pulled her shoulders back. ‘Wow, there's a lot to pick through. My brain can't quite compute the sheer volume of my back catalogue. Let me think.' She screwed up her face and circled her hands around her head as if the action would help her. She still had her eyes closed when she started talking again. ‘I was in a film with Dame Judy Dench. She was lovely'

  ‘You were in a film with Judy Dench?’ I spluttered, wondering why she had been hiding this career defining moment.

  ‘Yeah! I've got credentials, you know.’

  ‘What film was it?’

  ‘Philomena.’

  ‘Oh, I haven’t seen that one. Who did you play?’

  ‘I was a background nun in a flashback scene.’

  ‘Oh, I'll have to watch it.’

  ‘You only get to see my profile, but at least I can say I was in a film with Dame Judy Dench.’ Fuck, she was adorable. Only this girl could be so fucking happy about playing a background nun.

  ‘Did she offer you any career advice?’

  ‘Erm, well, yeah.’ She was making this hard. ‘She advised me to keep the teabag in longer for a stronger cup of tea. She likes builder’s tea whereas I like mine milky; you just assume everyone likes it your way, don't you?’ she shrugged.

  I wanted to hug her.

  ‘Sterling advice.’

  ‘You think I’m a loser, don’t you?’ I thought the exact opposite. I thought she was the most amazing person I’d ever met. She covered her face with her hands. ‘I may not be the next big thing, but I’d enjoyed every single job…until recently. I did a lot of promotions work at first. You do realise that you’re looking at one of the London Olympic mascots from the opening ceremony?’ She blew a breath on her fist and rubbed it against her chest laughing. ‘The costume weighed more than a Shetland pony. It was boiling but I bloody loved it!’

  ‘You’re astounding.’

  She gasped as she started twirling her scarf around her fingers. As she blushed, every protective part of me wanted to pull her towards me and tell her at the end of this flight that she was the most wonderful person I'd ever met and there was no way I was letting her go. Instead, I stayed quiet, trying to make sense of my thoughts. I laced our fingers together and she did that horny lip bite thing again. ‘Are you flirting with me?’

  ‘I think I’ve been doing that from the moment we met,’ I replied.

  ‘Am I worth carrying a suitcase up the steps of Orlando airport for?’ she asked, smiling.

  ‘If we had to do an emergency landing right now, I’d be more than happy to carry your suitcase on my back to London.’

  She tapped her thumbnail against to her teeth to hide her smile. ‘Do you make a habit of carrying women’s suitcases?’

  ‘Only the attractive ones,' I replied. I was met with a small smack to my arm and open-mouthed gape.

  She sat back and fiddled with her scarf. ‘You think I’m attractive?’

  Did I find her attractive? Hot? Gorgeous? Sexy? Yes to all four. 'You’re cute,’ I teased.

  ‘Cute? Like an English bulldog puppy cute?’ She blew out a breath. ‘An agent I met for lunch once said I was too cute to play a prostitute that got bludgeoned to death by a serial killer in a new crime drama. I didn't know whether to be offended or pleased.’

  I couldn’t he
lp but stare at her. She was cute, no doubt about that. She frowned whenever she was in thought. Her dimples got deeper the more she laughed. She did this head tilt thing when she was thinking and twirled her hair around her index finger whenever she was nervous. Super fucking cute. But she was also the most interesting person I had ever met. I didn’t know what it was about her that made me want to stop and study her, ask questions about her life just to know more. I needed details. Details that had never fucking mattered before. The only conversation I’d had with women in the last few months was filthy talk at the point of orgasm. And on top of everything, she was sexy. Sexy in a she-doesn’t-know-it kind of way, which only made her sexier.

  My leg rested against hers, but rather than move it immediately, we both stayed there, connected and trying to contain the sexual energy between us. She bit her cheek and my eyes never left hers. I grinned and she followed with a coy smile but I knew was hiding more. It was safe to say that we were witnessing colossal sparks.

  ‘Tell me more about you, Baseball Brit. I still need to know more about your life that's spiralling out of control.' I laughed lightly, already sizing up the moment, realising that telling the truth about the last few months could lead to us spending the rest of the flight in silence until the doors opened and she could make a run for it.

  ‘I'm officially on the disabled list.' She raised her eyebrow in question. ‘That means I'm injured. But I'm also suspended. I'm heading back to London because it's been suggested by the coach, my PR manager, and the governing body that I lay low for a while.'

  ‘What have you done?’ she asked, a playful tease in her voice that didn’t mask her trepidation.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself. ‘I couldn’t handle being unable to play. It's all I've ever done, so I got restless. Partying was a quick fix and meant I didn't have to think. Alcohol became a trusted pain relief and sex became a distraction.' I glanced over to her, and when I saw she was blushing instead of looking at me in disgust, I continued. ‘I could lose everything if I don't sort myself out.'

  ‘I'm not a medical expert but I'm pretty sure that trying to fuck your injury away is not going to have long-term benefits,' she said, smiling.

  ‘You’d be right,’ I replied.

  ‘So what’s the plan? Lie low in London for a while, then what?’

  ‘I need to start training, get fit, and keep away from women and booze’ I laughed, trying to make light of things. That was only going to work for so long.

  ‘You need to find yourself a lovely wife. That’s the answer. Then work on your fitness and employ an acupuncturist.’ She smirked. ‘And your PR manager can spin your new settled life with a perfectly blushing bride who only takes cock once there’s a ring on her finger.’ As she held her hand up, wriggling the empty digit and as she did, something hit me. An idea. A lightning bolt through the brain. She was a fucking genius.

  ‘You’re onto something,’ I said.

  ‘I was joking,’ she laughed.

  ‘No joke; you’ve just had the best idea.’

  The plane bounced slightly and the fasten your seatbelt signs flashed as we hit a patch of turbulence. Jess covered her mouth with one hand and grabbed mine with the other. She was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed and looking beautiful even when terrified. ‘Take deep breaths, Jess. Think of something good, something that will make you smile.’

  She kept her eyes closed and hesitated a little before answering. ‘You,’ she said. ‘I’ll think about you.’

  5

  ‘Jess, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Anything,’ she replied as we waited for our luggage.

  ‘I would love to see you again. I think fate has brought us together.'

  ‘I totally agree.’

  ‘Definitely a reason,’ I said, nodding.

  ‘I feel that way too.’

  ‘After we talked on the plane, it became clear to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, all excited, trying to suppress her smile but failing madly.

  ‘I want to ask if you’ll agree to…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Be my fake fiancé.’

  Her smile faded slightly and she tipped her head like she was puzzled. ‘I’m sorry, can you say that again?’

  ‘You're an actress, right? You're struggling to find work, so I'm offering you a job. A paid job. Pretend to be my fiancé for a couple of months and save my reputation; everybody’s happy.’

  ‘Wow, I didn’t see this coming,’ she said, pulling her hands away. ‘I was not expecting that.’ She was smiling but her laugh had an edge to it. I was confused by the body language because although she was laughing, she suddenly withdrew herself. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit taken aback. It’s a great offer. Certainly not as bad as some of the jobs I’ve had.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I deadpanned.

  ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that,’ she said. ‘I’m just a bit shocked. I wasn’t sure what you were going to say and thought you were going down a different path and then—whoa—mighty swerve with the whole job offer and…wow. I’m flattered, really I am.’

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  She put her hands on her hips and pouted as she thought. ‘What would you expect? Everything that goes along with a loving, caring relationship?’ she asked. ‘Sex?’

  ‘Jesus, no! I wouldn’t expect anything. Just think of it as a business arrangement,’ I replied.

  She took a sharp breath. ‘A business arrangement,’ she repeated, rubbing her hand across her forehead. ‘You make it sound so clinical.’

  ‘I can speak to my PR manager and get a contract drawn up immediately. If you're happy with it, we could perhaps start with making appearances together before making the big announcement.'

  ‘The big engagement announcement?' she mumbled as she spotted her case. It wasn’t hard to miss and I wasn't sure why she looked so relieved to see it. I went to pull it off the belt but she held her hand up to stop me and dragged it onto the floor with a thud.

  ‘What do you think? How easy would it be for you to pretend you’re in love with me? Look at this face,’ I said, pointing to myself.

  She shook her head, laughing lightly before handing me a business card. ‘These are my details. Give me a call or pass the details to your PR manager. Tell him to call me.' She pulled up the handle on her case. ‘Well, who would have thought I'd be returning to England with a business arrangement? Go me!’ She shook her fists and smiled broadly before pulling her lip under her teeth. I could have sworn she looked tearful. I might have even spotted a lip tremble. What the fuck? She started walking backwards, pulling her shoulders back as she did. ‘I’m already looking forward to working with you,’ she shouted before disappearing out of sight.

  6

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Jess laughed as I took a bat, glove and baseball out of my bag.

  We hadn’t seen each other since the flight a few days ago. I’d called Carl as soon as I got back to my apartment; he loved the idea of a fake fiancé. His talents at spin came into force as he started thinking out loud on the other end of the phone. ‘You can say you’ve known each other since kindergarten, kept in touch ever since. Wholesome first love. I can see the headlines. The English rose who has grounded you, brought you back from the brink to play again. Perfect!’ he’d said. The contract had gone out straight away, and according to Carl, Jess signed it within a couple of hours.

  Jess and I spoke on the phone a few times and agreed to meet at St James Park while Carl tipped off the paparazzi. I spotted a guy with a long lens from behind a tree and tried to ignore him. Jess seemed oblivious, thankfully, but I still sensed things were off between us.

  ‘This just comes across as cheesy to me. Are you sure Carl knows what he's doing?' she asked, throwing a ball between her hands. I had forgotten how amazing they were. Despite being asked to wear sports gear, she still had on her gold rings, three necklaces, and a stack of bracelets up her arm. When I finally stopped staring at her breasts in a black crop top w
ith an easy access front zip, she threw me the baseball. ‘I should have put in the contract that you can't stare at my boobs anymore. This is a business arrangement after all.’ She pushed her tongue into her cheek and started to run.

  ‘I’m sure staring at boobs is allowed,’ I replied, jogging after her. ‘It’s all the other stuff that makes it complicated.’

  ‘Other stuff?' she asked, stopping to do a few squats. Fuck, she was teasing me.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do.’ She stood in front of me and placed both hands on the baseball bat just underneath mine. Skin touching. Electricity. Heat. She smelled so fucking good. Tipping her head up to face me, she ran her hand along the bat. ‘You have to be very clear with me, Brad.’ I leant in, couldn’t help it, and ran my nose across the shell of her ear and down to her neck. I could see her chest rising quickly, her breasts moving with every shallow breath. Inside, my head screamed that I should move a little, grab her ass and kiss her, but then a flash caught my eye and the photographer crashed me back down to everything that was broken and needed to be fixed.

  ‘I can’t complicate things, Jess. I’m trying to make this work. It’s my last chance.’ I stepped back and she closed her eyes before quickly opening them again, wide and startled, disappointment flashing through them.

  ‘The photographer took a great shot. It probably looked like we're kissing.' She started to jog again, so I ran alongside her. ‘Do you want kissing? Aren’t I supposed to be playing the role of a naïve virgin saving myself for the one? I read a romance novel recently that's inspiring me. Unfortunately, the guy she chose was a complete wanker. Totally led her on and had commitment issues. Terrible shame,' she said as she ran faster.

  ‘Are you OK?' I asked. She was increasing the pace and I was feeling it in my knee. I had hired a personal trainer and physiotherapist. The sessions were going well and I didn't want anything to jeopardise the progress I had made, so I slowed down, eventually coming to a stop. Jess looked over her shoulder and turned back. I was doubled over, hands on my knees, sweat dripping from my forehead and fighting to breathe, let alone talk.