Extra Innings

by Michelle Lynn

  “When did I become a fucking babysitter?” I mumble, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting my truck.

  I turn down Main Street, passing the bars that are usually packed and littered with people during the year. Summer in Ridgemont is nice but quiet. After the baseball season is over, I need a summer to recoup, a summer to figure out what the hell I’m going to do next year.

  The drive to Ainsley’s house is uneventful, and her light breathing behind me tells me she’s sleeping off the alcohol. This just confirms that chicks are crazy. One minute, the girl isn’t really drinking at all, and the next, she’s pouring the damn bottle down her throat.

  Finding the fifth house, I’m thankful that Ariana is good for one thing—giving clear directions. I pull into the driveway until I’m parked in front of the one-car detached garage.

  The house is like most college housing. It’s been kind of kept up but needs a little more tender care. I don’t blame the owners who rent to students. From parties to the students just not caring about property, the houses get banged up.

  After turning the engine off, I get out and open up my back door. There she lies with a drip of saliva dangling from her mouth. Thank God she’s a small one, less pressure on my back.

  I pull her up from under her arms and hold her bride-style in my arms. Her head hangs over my forearm and her legs over my other one. I hip-check my door shut, but when I reach the door, I realize, the key is in my pocket.

  “Fuck.”

  I switch her, positioning her over my shoulder, and with the way her body is hanging on me, I’m thinking I should have maybe taken her to the hospital instead of home.

  My hand fiddles in my pocket until the hard metal is in my hand. I insert it into the lock, and the door opens. Thank fuck.

  I walk into the house, smelling fabric softener or something better than the foreign odors of the baseball house. Everything is neat and orderly. Weaving through the kitchen, I find no dishes in the sink, not even a loaf of bread on the counter. When I get to the living room, I debate on leaving her on the couch, but I know from personal experience, the couch has ways of morphing your body into positions it isn’t supposed to be in.

  “Guess I get to see your bedroom.”

  I round the living room and go up the stairs, each one squeakier than the last. The first door I come to is clearly a guy’s room. No way would a girl have a navy-blue comforter in a ball in the middle of the bed, and other than that, the room is minimalistic.

  Closing that door, I go to door number two, hoping my prize for carrying roughly a buck twenty in my arms for ten minutes is that this is her room. Again, I struggle to open the door, and when I do, I see it’s a nice room. A tad on the girl side but way too bare. The walls have flowery wallpaper but no pictures. The bed is a decent size, and I contemplate on laying her there, but I know there’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed after you drank your weight in alcohol.

  So, I shut that door, and since I pass the bathroom on my way to door number three, I’m thinking I have it right, especially since the door isn’t closed all the way. When I kick it with my foot, it opens, and the same perfume that drifted off her skin at the bar fills the room.

  Jackpot.

  I dispose of her on the bed and wiggle my arms in the air to get the feeling back. My eyes focus in on a room that’s lived in. A computer is on the desk, and books are on the shelves A corkboard has pictures and what must be her high school tassel. I pick it up, recognizing the colors are the same as the local high school.

  Finding a chair in the corner, I wonder how she scored the big room, the one with its own bathroom inside. I look over at her, debating if I should leave. Her hair is spread out on the pillow, so dark that it’s like a sky at midnight, and her eyes are like two moons.

  I know, if I’d met her before, I’d have known it.

  The ruffle of her skirt is high now, and a small patch of her black panties is visible. I shouldn’t look, especially when my dick twitches as I think about sliding that piece of fabric aside.

  “Oh,” she whimpers. A small smile graces her lips. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “Harder.”

  Damn, I hope that dream is about me. I was the last man she was talking to before she passed out.

  I lean back in the chair, trying to get comfortable since I know there’s not a shot in hell that I can leave her alone tonight. The chance of her choking on her own vomit isn’t far from my mind.

  She rolls over to her side and tucks her arm under the pillow. Her eyes open slightly, and I think she might actually say something, but she just sits up and strips off her shirt.

  Fuck, my dick just went into a full salute.

  1

  Brax

  Seven Months Later

  Nothing excites me more than the first party after winter break, especially after a month of being home, listening to the constant chatter in my ear about my career goals if I don’t go pro. I can only tell my parents so many times that there’s no other option for me.

  The first question that needs an answer is, Will I enter the draft this year with only one more year of college?

  I’m getting older, and after seeing my former teammate go pro last year, the itch is great.

  The second baseball house is filled with wall-to-wall people. I’m glad it’s not at my house because I won’t be in charge of picking up shit tomorrow. It’s about time house two takes the initiative on these parties.

  “Brax!” Ollie yells, waving me over to the makeshift bar in the corner.

  He’s all decked out in his track pants and T-shirt, looking like he just returned from the gym. I’ll never understand the guy’s ability to pick up girls.

  “Hey, Braxton,” a girl coos, her eyes traveling the length of my body.

  “Hi,” I say, my eyes checking out the small skirt and tight T-shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

  She smiles and tilts her head, shooting me those eyes that say, I’ll wait forever.

  The trials and tribulations of a college baseball catcher on the cusp of going pro.

  I finally reach Ollie, and he’s leaning against the counter, his beer in his hand, as he watches two girls in front of him.

  “What’s up?” We smack hands and lean in for a hug. “How was home?”

  “Good but glad to be back.” He nods his head to the blonde and redhead. “We definitely don’t have this back in Creekside.”

  I laugh. “What do we have here?”

  “Well, Kara here says she loves catchers, and Tina—”

  “Trina,” the redhead clarifies.

  “Sorry.” He shoots her a winning smile. “Trina loves first base.”

  Assuming the blonde is Kara, I wrap my arm around her waist. “You do know the catcher is the one who’s there when you’re running toward home base.”

  I raise my eyebrows, and she giggles, her body swaying into mine.

  “I told you, Brax is always ready,” Ollie says, swinging his arm around Trina’s neck. The two walk out of the room.

  I nod to the other players and people I know in the room.

  “So, do you want to go upstairs?” Kara says next to me.

  I almost forgot she was there.

  “Let’s hang out more.” I’m not ready to disappear yet.

  “Cros”—I hold my hand out to my best friend and roommate, Crosby Lynch—“when did you and Ella get back?”

  He blows out a stream of air. “Last night. I’m not even sure why we’re here.” He yawns, setting his Monster Energy drink on the table. “Hey, someone stopped by for you.” His eyes flash.

  A body steps into me, and my hand is pulled back to the blonde at my side. Crosby’s eyes turn to her and then me. The usual question of, What the hell are you doing?, rises nonverbally between us.

  “Who?” I ask.

  A smile peaks the corners of his mouth. “A girl.”

  My heart picks up pace, and my hand shoves into my pocket for my keys. “What did she look like?”

  Cro
sby investigates me, probably noticing my change of demeanor.

  “What do you want her to look like?” he asks, clearly baiting me.

  If it were the girl I’d been hoping would ring my doorbell, he’d have called me sooner.

  Speaking of which, the girl at my side whines, “Let’s go.”

  For a second, jet-black hair and gray eyes invade my thoughts. The small waist and curved hips that my hands were meant to touch flicker through my mind.

  I blink and erase the hallucination. I just see Kara, the girl who wants to take me upstairs so that she can say she had Braxton Brentwood.

  “You’re an asshole!” a girl yells before a door slams upstairs.

  I dislodge myself from Kara and follow Crosby, who is already halfway through the living room.

  We get to the banister, preparing to referee another match between Jen and Saucedo. The two are like daddy lions vying for the only female in the pride. I thought after last fall when Saucedo cheated on Jen, she was done with him.

  A blonde runs down the stairs. Crosby and I exchange looks because it’s not Jen, and Saucedo isn’t chasing after her.

  Crosby shrugs his shoulders in indifference because he doesn’t recognize her, but I do. And I know whom she’s running to—the summer fling I just can’t seem to shake. The summer fling who needs to answer my questions. The summer fling who’s been evading me at all costs since August.

  “What’s up, Brax?” Ella cozies up to her boyfriend, Crosby’s, side. “Did you guys assume it was Jen, too?” She laughs.

  “Where is she anyway?” Crosby asks her.

  As the two talk about the couple who can’t get their shit together, my eyes fixate on the blonde with her cell phone to her ear, weaving through the mass of people.

  “I’ll be back,” I mumble, sliding by Ella.

  “Okay,” she says. With the way her voice travels, I can tell her vision is zeroed in on me.

  “Braxton,” a girl says.

  I slide by.

  “Hey, man.” A guy tries to stop me.

  I high-five him and keep walking.

  She’s rambling on while our pitcher, Derek, comes alongside me. His shirt is off, his pants unbuttoned.

  “What the hell happened?” I ask as the two of us follow the girl for very different reasons.

  “She thought she wanted a chance in the majors. Turns out, she can’t step up to the batter’s box.” He laughs.

  I shake my head. “So, why the hell are you following her?”

  “I have no fucking clue.”

  We both reach outside, and she’s nowhere to be found.

  “Fuck,” he says, his fingers threading through his short, dark hair. “Well, I guess I’ll find round two.”

  He turns around and goes back inside the house, but I know she’s out here somewhere, so I walk down the stairs.

  “Delaney,” I whisper.

  Other than a cool breeze blowing some fallen leaves from the oak tree, I’ve got nothing. From how desolate the street is, you wouldn’t even think this was a college town.

  A car’s tires squeal as it turns down our street, and my heart frantically hammers in my chest.

  It’s her. It’s Ainsley. I know it from the way one light is slightly dimmer than the other.

  Ainsley stops, and Delaney runs out from behind our house across the street.

  “Delaney!” I yell again.

  Her footsteps halt, staring up at me, making the driver investigate what is taking so long.

  My hand rises just above my waist, testing the waters.

  A small smile begins to rise on Ainsley’s lips, but then it fades too fast, and my heart that has been beating out of control catapults to the pit of my stomach.

  Our moment is lost when Delaney slams the car door, and her eyes are transfixed on me and then move to her cousin.

  Standing on the sidewalk, my feet weighing heavy, I watch Ainsley do a U-turn.

  It’s now or never.

  My feet are one step ahead of my mind, and I run into the street, holding out my hands.

  Ainsley slams on the brakes, and both their bodies fly forward and back into their seats.

  Wait, I mouth.

  Delaney’s eyes ping between Ainsley and me as she silently wonders what she’ll do.

  When I find her gray eyes, they aren’t the love-induced ones they were this past summer. This time, they’re sorrowful and sad. Unable to handle those eyes, I step back and cross the street to my house.

  I don’t take the time to look back, but I hear the sputtering of her muffler as the car corners the street.

  She disappears, just like she did months ago.

  2

  Ainsley

  “What the hell?” I shoot my eyes to a sobbing Delaney.

  She doesn’t seem too concerned that I just had to come face-to-face with Braxton Brentwood after I swore I’d never return to Athlete Row again. I’ve spent the first half of this year on the south side of campus because he never ventures past the business quad.

  “He tried to have sex with me,” she whines.

  She came here with a purpose tonight, but as always, she shies away when it comes to intimacy.

  “That’s what usually happens when you go up to the bedroom.”

  “Ainsley,” she sighs, her sniffles more exaggerated now.

  I sink into the torn-up seat of my Honda Civic. I should feel bad because Delaney is my freshman cousin.

  “Don’t give me those puppy eyes. I told you to not even come here tonight. I told you that the baseball team was bad news.”

  My tires screech around the corner, and I stop in front of the convenience store. We now need some snacks for tonight because the quiet night I had planned with a bath and a book will now be movies and junk food with Delaney.

  “You should have seen his eyes when I told him I was a virgin.” Delaney’s small voice stops me from exiting the car.

  I swivel in my seat to face her, and my lips turn down.

  She’s weaker than me, more naive than me. Actually, she was me last year, and I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.

  She’s enamored with the cockiness, the almost celebrity status of the athletes at Ridgemont. They’re treated like fucking princes from professors to the parking service and everyone in between. And I dated the king of them all.

  “They all want one thing, and that one thing doesn’t keep their attention for very long.” I place my hand on her knotted fingers. “It’s not you, and believe me, Derek King is not the guy you want to lose your virginity to.”

  She sighs again, and I know it’s because she still thinks he is her prince. Why can’t she find someone in the chemistry department to infatuate over?

  “Come on. I think Sno Balls are calling your name.” I nod my head toward the lit up store.

  She nods, and we step out of the car. I swing my arm around her shoulders, and a small smile appears when the Hostess case is in front of us.

  Delaney started Ridgemont this fall after her parents split, and she decided she wanted to get out of the house. Her dad is my dad’s brother, but I’ve never been too close with my uncle. I chalk it up to my father dying so early, and Delaney’s father resenting my brother and me because my grandmother took on the responsibility of raising us. Delaney is the closest thing I have to a sister since she came to visit every summer. As we grew older and after my grandmother died my senior year of high school, the parameters of our relationship shifted. Now, I feel as though I’m her older and more experienced sister.

  We fill up the baskets with junk food, and when I place the items on the counter, Creed nods, giving us his attention.

  “Hey, Creed,” I say, my eyes perusing the candy stand below me.

  My hand moves to the gummy bears, but he clears his throat.

  “Oh, you know her so well,” Delaney coos.

  I pick up my head, and Creed is already holding a bag of them. He swings his head to the side to keep the longer hairs from covering his
eyes.

  He is cute in the typical college-guy way. He’s great, and I imagine he’d make an awesome boyfriend, but unfortunately, I’m too similar to Delaney. My body only seems to purr when it comes to the baseball team, too.

  “Thanks,” I say, smiling.

  “He always knows what you want.” Delaney elbows me, and I struggle to let out another smile.

  Creed keeps himself busy with scanning the items, and I dig out my debit card, deciphering which day this is and when I’ll get paid again. The social security check for Cade should have been deposited yesterday, so I hand over the card to him with confidence that he won’t have to cover me again.

  I sign the receipt and hesitate for a second, wavering from the cash register to the door.

  “See you, Creed.” I wave.

  He pauses from checking out the person behind me. He looks up, and that crooked smile emerges. “Bye, Ainsley.” His deep voice resonates throughout the store. “Delaney.”

  “Bye, Creed.” Delaney flirts, swinging her arm through mine, clearly forgetting about Derek.

  We go out to the car, and I can practically feel the questions burning in Delaney, but she knows what happened to me this past summer, how I got spooked, and that this isn’t the time to bring up another guy.

  She turns up the volume in the car as I wind through the roads of Ridgemont—a town where the college is the town. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve wanted to escape it my whole life, too.

  My shoulders deflate when I spot the red sports coupé in the driveway of my house.

  “She’s here way too much. Doesn’t she have a curfew?” I ask, whining about my younger brother’s girlfriend. A girl who is ready to break his heart next year.

  “She’s nice, and she loves him.” Delaney glances over and then exits the car.

  I take my time with taking the key out of the ignition as she walks through our back door.

  Braxton’s blue eyes come into my head. I can’t seem to get the way my headlights illuminated his muscular body out of my mind. Even now, months later, I know for certain that I could draw a picture of every crevice of muscle in his body. How my hands explored the ripples, the softness, and the bulge that was always ready when we were wrapped together.