Rounding Third

by Michelle Lynn

  She gives him a look of disgust before rising from her seat and walking up a few rows.

  Crosby digs his cleats into the ground, getting into his comfortable stance.

  Why are his movements sexy enough that I’m crossing my legs?

  The pitch comes in fast and straight, and he swings and misses.

  “Strike!” the umpire yells.

  Crosby steps out of the box while my heart races.

  Brax, being the great friend he is, steps out to cheer him on.

  Crosby situates himself again, and my breathing locks in my throat as the pitcher releases the ball. He swings and misses again. My heart sinks.

  “Fuck,” Spencer says.

  I pat him on his leg. “He’s got this.” Standing up, I clap my hands. “Go, Crosby! You got this!”

  As he situates himself again, his eyes find me in the stands. I smile as wide as I can and try to telepathically zone my confidence to him. He nods, a cocky smirk raising the side of his lips.

  Brax checks behind his back, finding me, and then focuses his attention back on Crosby. “Let’s go, Lynch. This one has your name all over it!” Brax claps.

  Once Crosby’s ready, his bat poised right by his shoulder, my breathing rate intensifies. The fastball comes in, and I close my eyes until the crash of the wooden bat hitting the ball rings through my eardrums.

  The fans in the stands cheer in an uproar, and I watch as he runs to second base, claiming a double.

  I bite my bottom lip to taper down the ecstatic smile that wants to sneak out.

  Oliver comes up, and on the first pitch, he hits a home run, sending Crosby home. He crosses home plate, and he takes his two fingers and kisses them before raising them to the sky. I watch his eyes close briefly, and his lips part, as though he’s talking. As fast as his new ritual appears, it vanishes, and he’s slapping his teammates’ hands on the way back to the dugout.

  I sit on the bench for the rest of the game, sneaking sips of Jen’s flask since she left it with me when she went to flirt with a group of guys in the next section over.

  Crosby hits a home run in the third inning, strikes out in the fifth, and gets a single in the eighth, but his fielding has him standing out from his teammates. He didn’t miss one ball that went his way. He also got a double play in the seventh inning that had everyone on their feet.

  The game ends, and while Jen has disappeared somewhere, I wait outside the locker room with Spencer, Ariel, and Brooke.

  “He played awesome,” Ariel says.

  I nod. “He did.”

  “Let’s hope he can keep it up. I’d hate for him to have a distraction and lose his groove,” Spencer adds.

  My sister and I stare over at him.

  “What does that mean?” Ariel asks before I get the chance.

  “He’s saying that you are probably a distraction.” Brooke steps forward, pointing her neon-pink nail my way.

  “That’s not what I was saying.” Spencer vehemently shakes his head, but the damage has been done.

  “She’s right,” I mumble.

  “No, she’s not.” Ariel steps over to me, her hands gripping my upper arms.

  “She is.” My eyes search out Spencer. “What are we doing? Things between us will never be normal.”

  He bites his bottom lip in silent agreement.

  How did I fool myself into believing Crosby and I could be a regular couple without the haunting reminder of the worst night of our lives? We can’t.

  “Listen, I need to go.” I start walking backward out of the tunnel.

  Ariel moves to follow me, but I hold my hand up in the air to stop her. She halts her movements, her eyes moving between me and Spencer.

  “That’s not what I meant, Ella.” Spencer fights my revelation, but we both know that there will never again be a Crosby and Ella.

  “It’s okay. I forgot I have some studying to do.”

  “It’s Saturday,” Brooke says.

  “I’m pre-med.” I sound like Liam.

  “Ella,” Ariel sighs. She relents slightly.

  I raise my hand in the air as I walk out of the tunnel. I need to get my head on straight before I talk to Crosby again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Crosby

  My teammates have showered and left the locker room, but I’m still on the bench, gripping Noah’s baseball, my fingers brushing along the red stitching. Our names are scribbled on the browner than white surface.

  We signed our names on this baseball when we were ten, promising there would be many more after this. One day, we’d play in the majors together and the ball would set eBay’s record high for bids.

  His mom brought it over to me right before we moved, handing me all his baseball equipment, saying it was what he’d want. It was probably the hardest thing I’d had to face—his mom after I’d killed him. I’d brought that pain to her eyes. I’d depleted her heart.

  “Thanks, Noah,” I whisper, raising it up in the air before throwing it in my bag.

  Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I walk out of the locker room and into the tunnel, finding Spencer, Ariel, and some blonde leaning against the wall. My eyes scan the area, searching for Ella, but all I see is Jen and Saucey making out a few feet down.

  “Where is she?” I ask them.

  Their guilty faces tell me enough that I pull out my phone.

  “She just needs space,” Ariel’s small voice speaks first.

  “Space? From what?”

  “I said something stupid, and she took it the wrong way.” Spencer pushes himself off the wall and heads toward me.

  “What are you talking about?” I fiddle with my phone to start a text.

  “I said that I hoped you wouldn’t get distracted and lose the groove you’d started.” Spencer hangs his head down, so I refrain from throwing him up against the brick wall.

  “She thinks she’s the distraction,” Ariel adds.

  My head is volleying between the both of them.

  “I have to text her.” I glance down at my phone, but a blonde-haired girl puts her hand on one side of my face, brings my other cheek to her lips, and snaps a picture. I push her off me, stepping a distance away. “Who is this?” I ask.

  Ariel narrows her eyes at the foreign girl. “This is Brooke, my roommate.”

  The blonde holds her hand to me, but I disregard it, giving her a nod with my head.

  “Cranky,” she says.

  If I believed in hitting girls, she’d be in a fetal position on the ground.

  “That’s what happens when people take my picture that I didn’t consent to.” I start walking down the tunnel toward my truck.

  Me: Hey, where did you go?

  My phone burns my palm as I wait for a reply. A reply I never receive. I turn around to Spencer again, and Brooke walks right into my chest. My hands land on her hips to stop her from falling.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  She smiles up to me. “You can knock me down anytime. Preferably onto my back.”

  Her flirtatious comment spurs a nauseous rumbling in my stomach.

  I hold my phone up in the air to Ariel. “Call her,” I demand.

  Ariel instantly pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

  “I’m not going to let her do this again. To push me away,” I rant, my anger getting the better of me.

  I search out my truck. If anything, I figure I’ll drive over to her and kiss her until her breathing heaves. Then, I notice a swarm of women. Actually, all the guys are standing next to their cars with the women circled around them.

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  Oliver winks over to me. “That’s why you should definitely try the single life.” He slaps a girl’s ass, and she only moves closer to him.

  “She’s not answering,” Ariel says. She and Spencer come alongside me.

  “Get in. I’m going over there. Do you need a ride?”

  “Nah, you go.” Spencer waves me on. “We’ll walk.”

  “I’m not walk
ing,” Brooke sneers. She wedges herself through the throng of girls strewed around the players’ cars. “I’ll take a ride.”

  I turn around, glaring at Ariel, until she steps forward, following Brooke and removing her hand from my door handle.

  “You can walk with us,” she tells Brooke.

  The girl circles out of Ariel’s hold and right into our second baseman’s arms.

  “Hey, you a freshman?” he asks.

  When she nods, his hand slides around her waist.

  “I’ll catch you guys later,” she says, inching closer to him.

  “I’m sorry, Crosby. I wasn’t meaning her. I meant—” Spencer says.

  I place my hand on his shoulder. I know exactly what he meant, and Ella should, too. She’s just scared.

  “It’s fine. I know.” I climb into my truck, start it to life, and pull away from the circus outside the stadium.

  My truck almost tips when I take the corner too fast to reach Ella.

  By the time I pull up to her apartment, I’m ready to put all these doubts behind us. This whole white-knighting thing is getting old, and I’m putting an ax in it now.

  I slam my truck door and jog up her steps. Without knocking, I take my chance at her door, and I’m both elated and upset when I step through the doorway without any force.

  “What are—” Ella stands there in a pajama tank top and shorts.

  I can’t pay attention to her mad face. All I want are those long legs wrapped around me. After the game and with the memories of Noah flooding back, I need to be buried inside her.

  Without a word, I steadily walk toward her. Placing my hands on her cheeks, I bring her lips to mine. At first, she fights it, swatting at my stomach, but once I part her lips and my tongue slides in, she relents, gripping my T-shirt and bringing me to her.

  My hands scoop her up by her ass, and I place her on the couch, lying on top of her. She doesn’t hold back, swinging her leg over my hip. Her fingers are fisted in my hair as my lips cascade over her chin, her jaw, and lastly, her earlobe.

  “I crave you every minute,” I say to her.

  A small whimper leaves her mouth.

  “Tell me you need me,” I say.

  “Crosby,” she sighs.

  There’s still a small fight burning inside her.

  “Say it, El,” I urge, my hand skating up her bare thigh to her ass.

  “I need you,” she finally relents.

  And my lips claim hers again.

  Our mouths collide, like we contain the life source for each other. Teeth knocking, tongues exploring. Lips swelling, saliva swapping.

  Her leg puts more pressure on my hip, giving her the force to grind against my length. My track pants are thin enough for her to feel how hard she’s made me. I thrust against her swollen clit, and she moans, keeping up the movements.

  My hands graze up her sides until her soft tits are in my hands. My thumbs rub along her pebbled nipples, and she arches her back, pushing them further into my hands. Her eyes are burning with lust as she takes her two hands and tears the tank top off her body, leaving my mouth drooling over her purple satin bra.

  As I’m unable to wait for those perfect Hershey’s Kisses–shaped nipples to be in my mouth, my fingers pull down the cups of her bra, but she reads my mind and reaches back to unclasp it. The fabric falls between us, and I use my hand to push her body closer. My mouth takes her nipple, and I swirl my tongue around, sucking it into my mouth. As I maneuver from one to the other, her hands once again find my hair, as though I’d stray and not fully enjoy the opportunity to suck her tits, like I know she loves.

  “Oh, God, Crosby,” she says.

  I peek up at her while my mouth works her into a frenzy. She’s always enjoyed this. I even made her come like this once.

  She grinds, and I flex my ass to push into her more. Her fingers start scratching my back, pulling my T-shirt up and off my body. I break for a second to allow her to free me from the restrictive clothing. She practically suffocates me with her tits, not that I’m complaining, and her hands go to my shoulder blades.

  Her fingers trail further down my skin, and her ass falls onto my lap. Her nipple pops out of my mouth as my back stiffens with her exploring hands. When she inches lower, my breathing stops as I look at the unanswered questions swimming in her eyes.

  “Crosby,” she whispers.

  The soft touch of her skimming fingers makes me close my eyes.

  This is the first time she’s felt my scars.

  “Where did you get these?”

  I swallow the lump to gain saliva in my mouth to answer, “The accident.”

  “How did I not know?” she asks.

  The edges of her eyes crinkle, like her mind is rolling through a Rolodex of information, rehashing the story I told her and how these marks don’t hold up.

  Too bad I’m not a chameleon, so I could blend in with this blue couch. “The fire.”

  Her hands slowly move along my skin until her palms cover my cold cheeks, warming them slightly. “I’m sorry.”

  My chest tightens. “Don’t ever be sorry. They’re nothing.” I push off any concern she feels.

  But her eyes continue to brazenly stare at me. That darkness that once consumed her with the topic of the accident isn’t there, and for the first time, I feel ready to let the demons out.

  “A spark set the car on fire, lighting up a tree. Your limp body was lying there, and I thought we wouldn’t clear the distance. Just as I was pulling you away, an explosion.”

  She slides a bit closer to me, and her eyes remain steady as she waits for more. “You can trust me.”

  I’ve never wanted Ella to have the memories I do. Coach Weathers and I lived a nightmare that night, and no one else will be haunted by it.

  My hand reaches up, and my thumb rubs along her cheek. “I know, but it’s hard to go back there.”

  She leans into my hold on her, and I inhale a deep breath, gaining the strength to tell her what continues to torture me.

  “When the car crashed, you were immediately knocked out. I scrambled to get out of the car, but my door was jammed or busted from the impact of the other car. I was able to smash the window and climb out.”

  After I begin rehashing the story, I’m there, in that car.

  Ella’s head was lying on the center console, a trickle of blood dripping down her forehead. My shaking fingers went to her neck, searching for a pulse.

  “Crosby,” Noah’s gravelly voice said.

  I removed my fingers from Ella, my eyes frantically searching the car for anything to help me break the window. The soft leather of the baseball weighed heavily in the palm of my hand before the glass shards sprang to my lap.

  “Hold on. I’m getting us out of here.” I pulled myself out with two hands around the shattered window frame, resulting in the first drop of my own blood.

  “Kedsey,” Noah said.

  That chipper, spunky girl gave no response.

  I was at Ella’s side of the car, unbuckling her. As she lay limp in my arms, I carried her a few feet away until Noah’s voice rang through the darkness.

  “Kedsey!” he screamed. “Cros, I think…oh no…Kedsey, baby.” His voice transcended a range of emotions, ending in a soft plea.

  Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I laid Ella down before running toward him.

  A truck screeched to a stop in front of the two cars.

  Coach Weathers sprinted over to help. “What happened?”

  Noah was still trying to get Kedsey to wake up, and my forearms were on fire from pulling on the metal doorframe to dislodge it.

  Coach Weathers went to the other car but returned to us fast, confirming what I’d already assumed. The driver was dead.

  He took my place and tried to free the door while I ran back over to Ella to make sure she still had a pulse.

  “You’ll have to use the window!” I yelled to Noah.

  “Baby, come on.” I urged Ella to wake up, but she wouldn’t.<
br />
  Again, I felt her pulse and placed my hand over her chest. At least she was breathing. I pried her eyelids open, only to have them shut immediately.

  “Lynch, help me over here. Kedsey has Noah trapped, so we’ll have to get her out first.”

  Coach Weathers rounded the car to the passenger side. He flung the seat forward, and Kedsey’s body was limp and pale over Noah’s body. His hands were on her back, rubbing, as he believed she’d wake up.

  “Come on, baby, wake up for me.” His pleading voice broke more.

  “Noah, you’ve gotta get her out of the way!” I screamed.

  “She can’t…she can’t be,” he said.

  “Listen, Ford, you have to help us here.” Coach Weathers’s voice was so calm that it almost made me calm until I glanced over to Ella’s lifeless body on the grass under the tree.

  “Come this way,” he instructed me.

  I stepped into a puddle, and I looked at Coach Weathers. Beltline had been in a drought for the last month. We both looked down at the ground and back to one another. Fuck, we needed to move faster.

  “Push her toward us, Ford,” Coach Weathers said.

  But Noah’s hands were over his face.

  “Fuck, she can’t be dead. She can’t. Kedsey!” he screamed.

  Right as his final cry was let out, a large spark from the other car went off, and a slow line of fire rushed over to the puddle I was currently standing in.

  Coach Weathers pushed me in Ella’s direction and followed me under the tree.

  “Noah!” I screamed, pushing against Coach to get back to the car.

  “Crosby!” Noah yelled.

  Then, the puddle of gasoline ignited, and the car exploded.

  “Help!

  Scream.

  “Help!”

  Scream.

  “Help!”

  Moans rang out until all that could be heard was the burning metal.

  I stopped fighting Coach to get back to the car, my body falling limp into his arms.

  “Noah,” I sobbed.

  Coach Weathers held me as we watched the car light up the night sky. He didn’t let go until the flame caught the tree branch, and the inferno continued to the trunk.