Batter Up: Up Series Book 2

by Robin Leaf

  We both watched the dog chase after the ball for a few minutes before she spoke again.

  “I picked him because when he was a puppy, his eyes reminded me of yours.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep, they were the color of the sky, just like yours. Mrs. Donaldson told me they would change, but I didn’t care. I knew he was the one who would protect me always.”

  Great, I was replaced by a dog. Fuck. I was never anything but a companion to her.

  I stared at her profile as she watched Giles romp around the yard. Her eyes sparkled in the sun, shining with love for a dog, not for me. So beautiful, right here in front of me, but still so untouchable. So unattainable.

  “I really need to get going, Etta,” I lied smoothly, “especially if I need to take you to your car.”

  She turned to me and studied my face. “Actually you don’t. Beth is coming over in a little while to take me to lunch. She will take me to get my car.” She touched my arm. Fire. “Can you stay until she gets here? I’m sure she’d really like to see you again.”

  And I’m sure she wouldn’t. I flat out ignored almost all of Chris’s phone calls for over a year before he stopped trying. I’m sure he hated me, and that resentment probably carried over to his wife as well.

  “I really can’t. Mom is expecting me.” She wasn’t. “I have to take her to pick up her car at the shop.”

  “Shit. I won’t insist then. The last thing I want is Tammy chewing me out again.”

  “She says you give as good as you get.”

  She smirked. “You know, she’s not the first to say that about me.”

  ***

  I entered my home to Jacob at the kitchen table staring intently at his computer screen.

  “I haven’t seen you around here much,” I said, opening the refrigerator. “Big job keeping you busy?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t break focus.

  “Sandwich?”

  “No.”

  Actually, this is the most Jake has spoken to me in two weeks. Mostly he just came home and sulked in his room. I know the Ashley thing’s driving him crazy. The last time I asked, he told me he didn’t want to talk about it. I figured I’d try again. Her fiancé was due to leave soon. Plus, I was curious.

  As I constructed my famous Nate special, I decided to ask.

  “Have you heard from Ashley yet?”

  He looked up from his computer screen, mean scowl on his face.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” I closed the jar of pickles. “Have you tried to contact her?”

  He stood and took the jar out of my hands. He grabbed the biggest pickle and chomped on it. “I was, every day.” He leaned his elbows on the counter. “She asked me to stop. Said she would contact me when she was ready.”

  “When does he go back?”

  “Sometime this week. I keep telling myself that old saying, ‘patience is a virtue.’ But it’s been a week since I heard from her. I’m afraid she’s already picked him.” He finished his pickle. “This not knowing is killing me.”

  “You know, you could tell yourself ‘fortune favors the brave’ and try one more time. Remind her you’re still here.”

  “When you take your own advice, then I might listen to you.” He pushed himself away from the counter and moved back to the table. “How was swimming this morning? Did you meet Giles?”

  “How did you know about that? You’ve met Giles?”

  He looked at me over his screen. “I talked to Etta last night. Our before-the-week-with-the-family drink night is tomorrow night. She called to make sure we were still on.” He looked back at his screen. “And yes, I’ve met Giles.” Not sure how I felt about the fact that he’d been to her house. Jealous? A little. “She asked me to invite you, so consider yourself invited.”

  This kind of made me think that Etta didn’t really want me there. It was a pity invite, probably by Jake because he knew he would have a hard time covering for where he would be tomorrow night.

  I finished making my sandwich and started cleaning up the mess. “If she wanted me to come, she could have asked me today.”

  He shut his laptop. “She thought you would find an excuse not to go. She knew I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He stood up, walked over to me and grabbed my sandwich out of my hands, taking a huge bite. “You’re coming. No excuses.” He clapped me on the shoulder and walked back to his computer with my sandwich. “Time to start living a little.”

  Fifteen

  March 18, eight years ago

  Bright. Too bright. Room spinning. Nauseous stomach. The need to pry my tongue off the roof of my mouth. Prayer for quick death.

  It can only mean one thing.

  The mother of all hangovers graced me with her presence.

  It’s to be expected after all the drinking last night. Green beer, green whiskey, green tequila. I’m not sure if the green dye wasn’t partially to blame for the worst hangover I’ve ever had. Coach would kill me at practice later if I didn’t decide to do it myself if this feeling doesn’t go away.

  I vaguely remember the events last night. The only thing I’m not sure of is how I got home. Normally I would rely on Etta or one of my teammates to drive me, but since I wasn’t thinking and let the drinking games get away from me last night, I cannot be sure of much of anything.

  Etta was in Austin with her sister celebrating their belated birthday, opting to take advantage of spring break to ring in their twenties. Baseball kept me here, but luckily, we didn’t have a game today.

  Forcing my eyes open, I looked at my nightstand to check the clock. It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.

  “Do you feel okay, Baby?” a syrupy sweet voice asked from the doorway. I cringed at the word baby. I always hated when girls called me baby. Total turn off.

  Turning my head too quickly, making it threaten to explode, I focused my eyes on the woman dressed in my t-shirt, only my t-shirt. Fuck. There goes rule number one.

  “No.”

  She giggled. “I brought you some water and some Advil.”

  “Thanks.” I gingerly sat up and took both items from her, noticing I still had on my jeans from last night. After downing half the water and the pills, I really looked at her. Victoria, a girl who represented ten percent of my sexual history. I sort of remember that she was at the bar last night. “I guess you drove me home?”

  “Yes. You were pretty out of it.” She sat on the bed and placed her hand on my chest. “I took care of you all night.” I think she was trying to be seductive. It wasn’t working. In fact, she, combined with the vicious jackhammer currently taking up residence in my head, were both an intense turn off.

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to stay anymore. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  She moved her hand down my chest to my waist. “If there’s you, there is nothing better to do.”

  Shit.

  I grabbed her wrist and politely removed her hand from my body. “Victoria…”

  “Do you know I can’t stop thinking about our night together?”

  Double shit.

  “I’m flattered, but…”

  “It was the best night of my life. I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s why I am glad we ran into each other.” She lowered her head, and she smiled. It was kind of creepy. I had to suppress the urge to shudder. “I want more. You might have passed out on me last night, but you won’t say no to this now.”

  She took off my shirt. Yep, she was naked. All I could do was an open mouthed stare, too shocked to move.

  She grabbed her obviously enhanced breasts and thumbed her abnormally large nipples. “Like what you see, Nate?” She ran her hand down her stomach to between her thighs. “It can all be yours.”

  Seriously, what kind of girl does this?

  I jumped up off my bed and threw what I hoped was her dress from last night at her. “Get dressed, Victoria.” I walked out of my room and slammed the door.

  Of course, Etta took this moment to walk in the door.
>
  “Oh, morning, Nathaniel. I didn’t expect you to be up yet. One of the trainers called in sick, so Jackson called me last night and asked if I could fill in today. The drive didn’t take as long as I expected, so I thought I’d come home first and change.” She put her keys in the bowl. “How was your St. Patrick’s Day with the guys?” She turned toward me. “Wow, you really look like shit. Rough night?”

  Victoria, who was fortunately dressed, jerked open my door, and came toward me, shaking her high heel in my face. “Did you seriously just turn me down? After what I did for you last night?” She put on her shoe. “I drove you here, practically carried you from the car, watched over you all night to make sure you didn’t die Hendrix style, and you turn me down?” She put on her other shoe. “No one’s ever turned me down.”

  “I appreciate what you did for me last night, but I told you when we met that I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. And I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Why would you be looking for a girlfriend? You already have one.” She waved her hands at Etta. “Although I fully understand why you would prefer to fuck me,” she looked Etta up and down disgustedly, “and not her. You go ahead. Play house with her, because you surely will never be fucking me again.”

  “I think I already made that clear,” I returned.

  She stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door. I stared at the door for a full minute.

  “And that is why I don’t bring girls home.”

  Etta snorted and covered her mouth. I saw tears fill her eyes.

  “Oh my God, Etta, if she upset you…”

  She removed her hand from her mouth and waved it at me. I could tell why she was crying – she was laughing too hard. She bent over holding her stomach.

  “That… that was some funny shit right there.”

  “I’m glad I can entertain you.” I moved to the kitchen to grab a Gatorade, kinda hurt by the fact that Etta found my situation so friggin hilarious. She followed me.

  “No, Nathaniel. You don’t get the joke. That was the bitch in my Anatomy class who rubbed it in my face that you two had sex.” She scrunched up her face. “Why would I care what she says?”

  “It’s just one of the reasons why I…” I paused. Shit, I almost said it. “…am glad we’re friends.”

  She stared at me for a minute, completely blank expression. “Yeah, as fun as this was, I need to change and get going.” She went into her room. “Eat some toast, Nathaniel,” she yelled. “Carbo-load before practice, and drink some water.” She came out from her room, pulling her shirt down. I got a flash of lace from her bra and her bare stomach. That was more of a turn on than Victoria completely naked. “I’ll see you tonight. After your bender, you need a quiet night in.”

  She just gets more perfect every day.

  Sixteen

  November 23, last year

  I was supposed to meet Jacob and Etta forty-five minutes ago at the same karaoke bar where we celebrated his nineteenth birthday. Reason I was late? I was a chicken.

  I kept falling on the belief that Etta didn’t really want me here. Jacob insisted she did invite me, but I felt that if she wanted me crashing their tradition, she would have let me know in some way. She was never one to let others do her talking for her. And for tonight’s invite, she used a middle man. The whole invite felt a bit sketchy.

  I had to talk myself into going three times, so I had a couple of beers to calm myself down. And it was on an empty stomach, because honestly, who could eat this nervous? Eight years ago, two beers was a pussy drinking night, but now, it was a big deal. Those who don’t believe a person can build up a tolerance to alcohol probably either never went to college or don’t remember much of it because of all the drinking. A person definitely can, and they can lose it just as easily. Since I went almost eight years without anything but the occasional beer and rare glass of champagne, my tolerance? Completely gone. Two beers, that’s all, and I already had a slight buzz. Driving was not a good idea, but again, not known for the good ideas.

  I parked. With no red Beemer in the parking lot, I almost backed out and drove home. But I would never hear the end of it from Jake, who already called twice to threaten me. I got out of the car, reluctant to go into the bar. When I finally made it inside, I wished I hadn’t.

  They were there, in a corner booth. Close, almost forehead to forehead. She had dressed up for the occasion, more makeup and a short black dress that showed plenty of leg and cleavage. Dressed up for him. Her hand slid onto his face, smoothing her thumb over his cheek. My brother and the girl I loved. Anger was not strong enough.

  Instead of turning toward their table, I decided to get a drink or two from the bar first. Strong ones. Shots. Two shots which I downed quickly. I had only been super drunk one other time in my life, and right now, I was too distracted to remember the outcome of that night. Therefore, blurred oblivion sounded like a really good option.

  I ordered two more shots and turned back to the table in time to see Etta jump up and throw herself into the arms of another man. Not Jake. And certainly not me. Do I leave now and go home, or do I go see who she is molesting in front of my brother? At least I could kick the shit out of this guy for Jake’s sake and take out my anger on someone.

  I walked over to the table and sat down.

  “Finally,” Jake scolded. “I was really starting to get worried.”

  “Yeah, you looked really worried when I got here.” I hoped I sounded aloof.

  Jake stared at me blankly for a minute until realization dawned on him. “You saw her comforting me, Nate. We were talking about Ashley.” He took a drink of his beer. “You know how she is toward her friends. That’s all we are.”

  That’s the trouble. I did know how she was with her friends. I just didn’t know how she was with her more-than friends. It was looking like I’d never know.

  I looked over where she was standing about ten feet away with her arm linked through the mystery guy’s, talking animatedly. Touching his chest. Smiling flirtatiously. “What about him? He just a friend?”

  Jake leaned forward over the table and looked at me seriously. “Nate, you need to tell her how you still feel. You haven’t admitted it yet to anyone, probably only to yourself, but I see it. Do it. Tonight. Follow your own advice.” When I raised my eyebrows in question, he added, “‘Fortune favors the brave.’ ‘No guts, no glory.’” He smiled. “Trust me.”

  “You’re just full of clichés tonight, aren’t you?” I snarked.

  “Hey, Nathaniel,” Etta called, pulling her guest over by the arm. “Look who I asked to join us.”

  I looked up and made eye contact with her former mentor. I forced a smile and stood, extending my hand. “Jackson, how’ve you been?”

  He took my hand and shook it. “Better than you lately,” he joked, clapping me on the shoulder. At least I think he was joking. It irritated me none the less. “How’s the rehab coming?”

  “I’m sure Etta knows more about that than I do,” I remarked, trying really hard not to sound like a smartass. The look she shot me told me I hadn’t achieved my goal. “Ask her.”

  She looked pissed for a second, then turned to Jackson and started explaining my case and her treatment style. Talking about me like I wasn’t even there. My case morphed into talking about the past, funny stories they shared with Jake and me, and by with us, I mean we were allowed to listen because we certainly weren’t involved in the conversation. She laughed with him. She touched his arm three times. She touched his thigh twice. He had his left arm around the back of the booth behind her. She turned slightly toward him, and I’m sure their thighs were touching. Intimate. She never looked my direction. She only had her silvery-bluish-green eyes trained on him. She never acknowledged me at all. All I could do was order and consume four more shots and hide my pissed-off dejection. Again.

  I put in a request to sing somewhere around shot seven. I picked a song I knew well, one I liked, with no regard for anything other than it’s rockin
g-out potential, well mostly that. I also picked it because I knew Etta would never have ever heard it. It was a slow night, because one song later, the DJ called my name.

  “You’re going to sing?” Etta asked skeptically, finally sending some attention my way.

  “Yep. You remember how much I love to sing.” I steeled my eyes at her. “Can’t resist a good song.”

  I stood and made my way to the stage, trying not to stumble. I had chosen to sing for her again, because that always worked so well in the past. I chose Papa Roach’s “I Almost Told You that I Loved You,” really just for the title, kind of as a big middle finger to Etta. But if I had been sober, I would have remembered it was a not-nice song. Not just in the title, but the other lyrics as well.

  I stepped off the stage once the song started, really putting on a show, singing a line to every girl I came across. I even dipped and kissed one during a non-singing part. I put my all in it, one-hundred percent of my drunken self. I glanced at Etta and noticed she wasn’t really watching me, but once I sang the first line of the chorus, the title of the song, she whipped her head my direction and her mouth fell open. I pretended I didn’t notice and continued my performance to every girl in the place.

  The crowd reacted to me, some instantly recognizing me, and it just spurred my antics. Hips thrusting and gyrating, often in the faces of the women I passed. I did sing one line directly to Etta, one that talked about not being the one she wanted. She was across the room and I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her eyes burning into me. I smirked before turning to another girl, pulling her close to me and swaying with her. I made my way back up to the stage for my big finish, complete with mic drop.

  Drunk as I was, I thought my performance was on fire. If I was sober, I would have realized it was an asinine song choice. Drunk as I was, I didn’t see how wounded Etta appeared. If I was sober, I would have seen the cell phone cameras videoing every second of it. The audience did seem to enjoy it though. I was not imagining the standing ovation.