Double Play

by Grace, Hazel

  “Remember what I said all those years ago,” he solicites. “That no one was going to keep you from me. That it’d be you hanging off my arm.” He lowers his face closer to mine. “Even through all the years and anger, I meant it.”

  He slowly slides inside me and torturously starts pumping into me to fit to him. I clasp on to his forearms that are keeping his weight off me, it feels amazing, heavenly even. Him being here, filling me up, it should’ve been like this so long ago. We’ve lost so much time, so much of everything, that I feel tears building up in the back of my eyes.

  Colson looks down between us, watching his body entering mine, our naked bodies together for the first time.

  “This is how it was supposed to be,” I tell him. “Us.” He peers up at me, and his brown eyes are filled with fervor and sadness.

  “Yeah, baby,” he replies, lowering himself closer. “I’ve been telling you that forever.”

  I give him a half smile and tsk. “And now that you have me, how will this go?”

  “Go?”

  “This slow shit,” I reply. “Doesn’t sound like a man who told me he had a fucked-up obsession over me.”

  He perks a brow, decelarating even further to where he’s barely inside me. “Slow shit, huh?” I nod. “Are you telling me you want me to fuck you senseless, Bases?” I take his bottom lip between my teeth and give it a light tug, soothing it with my lips.

  I can feel our stuttered breaths mixing together, his shallow outtakes of air brushing my breasts. I don’t think either of us has registered what’s actually happening. How much we both wanted this for so long, and now that it’s happening it doesn’t feel real.

  “I want everything,” I tell him, arching my body against his. “I want every single day back, every kiss, the way things used to be.” His chest meets mine, and he gives my lips a flaccid kiss, drifting to my cheek.

  “You’re going to scream and scare your neighbors.”

  “The cops won’t do anything.” He smiles against my lips and sinks deeper inside me.

  A soft growl escapes my mouth, and I don’t bother hiding it. I want him to know how he drives me crazy. How fucking good he feels, like I was made for him to own, cherish, and just be with me.

  “Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Colson rumbles into my neck. “I can’t wait to feel you shatter around my cock.” His pace quickens, and so do his lips, they’re everywhere; my neck, my lips, his tongue dancing and fighting mine.

  The pleasure, everything I thought it would be, doesn’t compare to the genuine design between him and I. My brain won’t stop the moans and soft whispers of encouragement as Colson fucks me like he’s always dreamt of doing. What he’s spoken about for years. I’m just happy to be on the receiving side of him for once.

  “God, Colson,” I groan, as he straightens onto his knees. I take in his flat stomach, the hard chest, and broad shoulders. His triceps that flex from holding my hips while he continues to fill me.

  “You’re so beautiful, Bases,” he utters. “So absolutely flawless. I knew fucking you would be good but this...is epic.” I feel the buildup in my stomach, my legs start to tingle as waves of wanting crash into me over and over again.

  “I’m going to come,” I bleat, watching him study me. My tits bouncing, my hair wrapped around my head, my hands gripping the sheets to stay grounded.

  “Yes,” he says in a throaty octave. “Let me see how stunning you are while you explode around me, baby. I’ve dreamt of it a million times.”

  My orgasm hits me the moment his last sentence leaves his mouth. I break apart underneath as he continues to slam into me over and over, taking every piece of me for his own.

  A sharp groan parts from his lips as he drives himself home, repeating my real name over and over.

  He empties himself completely before slumping down on the bed beside me, pulling me into his side. Sweat covers his chest as his arms wrap around my body, I’ve never felt fully content in all my life. My body is relaxed and buzzing with bliss and, finally, peace.

  Peace that I could breathe again.

  Peace that this was all over between us, the animosity and the hate.

  And peace that I could finally be okay again.

  Sawyer

  Ten years ago

  I tap my index finger on the back of my phone while staring at my text conversation with Colson...that happened five days ago. A full school week, a hundred and twenty hours, five History classes, and awkward, avoiding conversations are leading me here, feeling vulnerable and antsy.

  At this point, I’d take a broody, asshole text from him because he takes this opportunity, where I thought we had fun, and listens for once in his life about not over using his texting privileges.

  I thought that I kinda made it clear that we were past that. I used up every ounce of courage that I had and kissed him.

  I kissed him.

  Smack dab on the lips.

  When he took me home, he held my hand on the way to his truck, opened the door for me but didn’t attempt to kiss me goodbye. I was actually okay with it, we didn’t want to rush into...whatever it was this was, and he was, again, respecting me.

  But I didn’t think it’d turn into an 1800’s version of courting, where it took days for him to approach me again. He did mutter “hi” to me on Tuesday, that has to count for something, right?

  However, the more I think about it, the more I allude it’s for the best. Even though I’m not jumping for joy at it, a text message would still be nice since no one can see it besides me. I’ve been wracking my brain for days with possible motives. I did state several times that I didn’t want people to gossip about me anymore. That being around him would only cause more irritation and have me wanting to rip my hair out of my head.

  But a text message though, still doesn’t register why I haven’t received one of those yet.

  Except if you want to count the blonde and brunette that I saw flirting with him at his locker on Thursday.

  Or the petite raven-haired girl who sat in his lap on Wednesday at lunch. Even though her ass landed on the tile seconds later, I brush that one under the carpet because that wouldn’t make him not talk to me.

  Today, I wore a cute little floral number, hoping to snag some of his attention. I got about five point two seconds of it before he averted his view of me and walked away.

  I feel like the plague. One minute, he’s everywhere I go, the next, he’s practically fleeing from me. I guess that’s karma at its finest.

  It’s definitely for the best. You don’t want Freemont High stating that you made Gavin the victim with some scandalous love triangle.

  Well, we all know he’s not. I’ve already seen him making out with several other girls outside the boys’ locker room.

  He’s doing just fine.

  The screen of my phone times out and darkens, just like my mood. Friday night and here I am moping around like some lovesick loser who isn’t in love with said broody boy who I went on a “hang out” with a week ago.

  Not pathetic at all if you put some music on.

  Hopping off my bed, I turn on my CD player and let “Echo” by Trapt fill my speakers. I roll my shoulders at the tense perceptions of my thoughts over the course of the week. I gave Colson what he wanted, for whatever reason, and it’s done. Now I could successfully move on with my senior year without Colson acting like a pushy brute because he’s too busy evading me.

  Mission accomplished, I guess.

  The chiming of my phone goes off, and I immediately look down as it lights up in my hand, my heart skipping a beat at the words displayed on my screen.

  Colson: Hey Bases, how’s it going?

  Breathe. Make him wait. Keep it cool.

  Me: Hey! I’m good! How are you?! — No. No. NO! Erase, erase.

  I clear my throat and try again but not before counting to a hundred.

  Me: Good, you?

  Colson: You coming to the game tonight?

  Me: Uhhh...maybe? — Absolute
ly, not. Erase. Play it cool.

  Me: Nope.

  Colson: Why?

  Um, because I’m a loser on a Friday night that likes to watch TV and binge on junk food? Think of something cool...I’m crocheting. I shake my head, stupid.

  I’m studying? Nope, nerd alert.

  My parents are super strict and—ugh no!

  Me: Had some family stuff come up.

  Good. Vague is good.

  Colson: Will you be able to get away?

  Me: Not sure.

  Colson: I think you should try.

  Me: Why would I need to do that?

  Colson: Because I want you to be there.

  Oh wow. My fingers freeze above the keyboard as I reread his last text about twelve times.

  Yep, that’s what he said.

  I quickly contemplate on how to respond, my heart rate zipping and pacing back and forth in my chest.

  Me: You’ll do okay without me.

  Colson: I’ll do better if you are though. You don’t want to be the reason we lose, do you?

  I scoff.

  Me: Guilt trip much?

  Colson: Basically.

  Me: I don’t know, I have some stuff to do.

  Colson: Like sitting in your room eating junk food?

  I scoff again and glance at my bag of Doritos on my bed. Even it’s mocking me that he just called me out on my lie.

  Me: I happen to have a life outside of softball.

  Colson: Well, you’re not working tonight, school’s out, you guys don’t have a game tonight, and Taylor is out of town this weekend. So, there goes your next couple of excuses.

  I glare at my phone. He knows I’m a loser and just called me out.

  Awesome.

  Colson: Get your cute ass to the game, Bases. I have something for you.

  —

  I go to the game alone, dawned in a maroon sweatshirt and sweatpants. I shouldn’t be here, letting Colson summon me like one of his little groupies but, alas, here I am.

  Ugh, I’m no better than them.

  And I said I wasn’t going to do this to myself about fifty times before stepping out of my house and riding my bike the three miles to school.

  But here I am, hiding my face with my hood, staying away from the full bleachers of fellow classmates and crazy parents with poster boards, leaning against one of the old oak trees with a perfect view of the dugout.

  The guys on our baseball team are playing offense, but I don’t see Colson.

  Or Gavin.

  God, I’m hiding from my ex-boyfriend so I can see his best friend.

  Well, not sure if they would consider themselves that anymore. They avoid each other at practice, grunt when one of them is in the other one’s way, and that concludes their communication. It’s all caveman and subtle, I wouldn’t expect anything else from them, honestly, except another fight in the dugout.

  Surveying the field again, I find Colson on second base, eyeing his teammate at bat to hit the ball so he can advance on.

  Lord.

  He looks so good in his white baseball pants and yellow jersey, hunched over with his hands on his knees as he focuses. Most of his dark hair is hidden under his helmet, a small piece casually laying over his forehead. He’s let it grow out slightly, giving him more of a bad boy, I don’t care, kinda vibe.

  The tink of a bat sounds, followed by cheering of the crowd. Colson sprints to third, rounding the base, and into home. I hear the ump call safe and his team surrounds him outside the dugout, high fiving each other and jumping up and down.

  They all gather back to the benches, rowdy and excited, as their teammates come back in from the field.

  And that’s when I see Gavin.

  Immediately, I tuck my head into my chest, pulling the top of my hood over my eyes. I couldn’t look any more suspicious.

  The guys are still cheering and yelling amongst themselves, Coach Anderson is telling them to stay focused and directing where everyone is going to play. I can hear the rustling of bags, bats hitting the gravel, the crowd settling down to start the next inning, and then I jump at the closeness of a voice to my left.

  “Hey Bases.” My head snaps up to see Colson standing there in all his sweaty godlike glory. He wears an amused smirk at my disguise, and I feel like an idiot. “You couldn’t look anymore obvious right now.”

  Yep, an idiot.

  “I didn’t want to...well, I—”

  “You didn’t want Gavin to see you,” he finishes for me. Well, when he puts it like that, I feel like a cheater when I’m not even with him anymore.

  “I didn’t want to start anything,” I blurt honestly. Colson nods and steps closer to me, blocking my view of the dugout. “Don’t you have to—”

  “I got this inning out,” Colson voices, closing more distance between us. My body buzzes under my clothes, remembering how good it felt to be this close to him again after five days.

  Five long days.

  Stop it, Sawyer. You’re feeding into the danger here with the man whore of the school.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Well, you did say you had something for me.” Not that I should take anything from him. And my brain knows that’s not why I’m really here.

  Colson chuckles. “Yeah, I did.” He reaches behind him and tugs something out of his back pocket. “Open your hand.”

  I do what he asks, extending my palm. His fingers abrade my skin, sending heat to my cheeks, and drops a thick circular ring in my hand.

  What in the hell is this?

  It’s an actual freaking ring.

  He closes my hand and pushes it toward my body, releasing his touch from me. “It was my dad’s class ring. He told me that if I was ever serious about a girl to give it to her to prove that my intentions were true.”

  “True for what?” I panic, feeling a rush of anxiety slam through my body. The ring heats my skin, my skin starting to feel clammy.

  “I’m interested in you,” Colson mutters, hitting me with the full blast of his stare. “I think I’ve made that perfectly clear. But you’re scared of me, my reputation, things people say about me at school.” He blows out a breath. “So, I’m giving you that to show that I’m serious. I want to get to know you better, I’m not here to fuck you or— ”

  “Must you say stuff like that to me,” I grumble, tucking my chin inside my hoodie and envisioning him pinning me to a wall.

  “I’m serious,” Colson voices with a smirk. “It’s not a steady ring or me owning you kinda thing. It’s a trust ring. I want you to try and trust me, that’s all I’m asking.” I peer back up at him, his face sobering as he waits for me to respond.

  And in that moment, I see it.

  The vulnerability that I’ve never seen grace Colson’s face. I have a feeling he’s never done this before, that he’s trusting me to not make a big deal about this and read in between the lines of what he’s trying to do.

  And I do.

  I see it loud and clear.

  “Okay,” I allude, closing my fingers around it. “I can try and do that.”

  He gives me a weak grin. “That’s all I ask.”

  I nod toward the dugout, knowing we don’t have much time together out here. “You should get back with your team.”

  “Oh, so the wedding dress in the back of my truck I can keep for your next gift?” he jeers.

  I roll my eyes with a smile but feel my cheeks pinken. “You’re an idiot, Hayes.”

  “Might be,” he pledges. I watch him contemplate me for a moment before he speaks again. “I know I’ve said this a lot, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

  My hoodie feels like a furnace, blasting inside the cotton fabric and melting me second by second as Colson looks at me with want. The way his eyes are skating along my face, I think I might just turn into a puddle right here.

  “Too many people,” I say, noting the obvious. Colson doesn’t seem to care because his chest presses against mine, his hands wrapping around my forearms.
>
  He gives me a slight tug, rounding the tree I was leaning against, and places me on the other side where people in the stands wouldn’t be able to see me, only him.

  “This better?” he falters, lining his body back up with mine. I nod, because it's literally the only thing I can do right now.

  This time, we’re not alone, there has to be close to a hundred people out here for both teams playing and, God knows, how many students roaming around. But in the midst of Colson’s body caressing mine and the simple fact that he’s protecting me from prying eyes, my subconscious softens me to letting Colson kiss me.

  He’s asking me to trust him.

  Colson gradually leans forward, his hands at his sides, and presses a soft kiss to my lips. My body sways in his direction, my fingers latching to the pocket of my hoodie. His hand cups my cheek, as he opens his mouth to take me deeper.

  His lips are so calculated, moving softly and fluidly with mine. The way they feel like they are gradually taunting me to take more, to want more. To fall mindlessly into Colson Hayes without rapture or reason.

  I’ve never felt this way with another boy before. Not even Josh Holdman in sixth grade when he kissed me on the monkey bars and told me he was going to marry me one day. He said the same thing to another girl a week later, but it didn’t matter, Colson was something out of this world to me.

  Am I that naive?

  Maybe he’s just really good with kissing and how his piercing stare makes me want to bolt and stay still all in one mixture.

  Colson breaks our kiss, to my disappointment, pressing his forehead to mine.

  “That’s how I always expected it to be,” he whispers. I blink at him as he pulls himself away from me, and I miss him immediately. “Are you staying here to watch the end of the game or did you come just to get your present?” he teases, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his pants.

  “I...I wasn’t going to stay—”

  “Will you stay for me?” he croons. “I’d like to know that somewhere in the midst of all the people that you are out there somewhere, looking like a creep with your hoodie up when it’s not really cold out.”