by Sky Corgan
That shuts her up. I'd be happy if I weren't suddenly reminded that I'm not the only woman in Peter's life. The thought of someone else putting their hands on his body...their lips on his mouth—it tears at my heart.
“How was your weekend, Miss Stroop?” Peter redirects his attention to me.
I force a smile. “It was good.”
“Get a chance to play any sports?” His eyes light up as he speaks of his interests.
The answer is no. I was lazy all weekend, but I know the truth won't suffice. I have to say something that will make him like me more. “I played tennis with some friends.”
“Good. That's good.” He nods in approval. “Keep practicing, and it will all come back to you in no time.”
“Will do, boss.” I salute him, then feel like an idiot afterward.
When Peter walks away, I glance over at Becky to see her scowling at me. She's obviously upset that Peter basically told her to shut the fuck up and then went on to have a full conversation with me as if she wasn't even there. I can't help but feel like it's a small triumph, so I give her a smug grin before turning on my monitor to start my practice work for the day.
After work, I go home and change before heading to the batting cages. I need to get good at batting as soon as possible so that I can start playing baseball with Peter and his friends. The closer I can get to him, the better. If I can share most of his interests, he'll have to notice me as a potential love interest sooner or later.
I start at the slow end like Caleb taught me, hitting at 35 mph. I'll do a round here before moving up to the next speed for most of my practice. Each time I come here, I want to focus on a faster speed. Eventually, my hand-eye coordination will improve, and I'll get those lovely calluses that I've so been dreading. It's already starting to happen. I can feel the skin on my palms growing thicker from these damn racket and bat sports. This is not something I ever wanted, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make if it will make me look sexier in Peter's eyes.
I'm about nine balls in when I hear someone call my name.
“Miss Stroop. Fancy seeing you here.”
I turn just in time to miss one of the balls whizzing by me. My heart drops to my feet as I see Peter standing outside of the cage, looking absolutely yummy in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. I feel mortified that he caught me in the slowest cages.
“I'm warming up,” I mutter, completely distracted.
I miss two more balls before I decide to say fuck it and walk over to him.
He frowns. “I'm sorry if I messed you up. Let me pay for your next round.” He offers me a token through the gate.
“Oh, don't worry about it.” I refuse. “It's cheap to practice here.”
“Still, I feel bad.” Peter offers me the token again, and I take it this time. “It's good to see that you're practicing.” He smiles, and I swoon a little on the inside.
I try to brush a strand of hair away from my face before remembering my haircut. I wonder if I'll ever get used to it. “It's been a while,” I tell him. “I want to be in tip top shape before I start playing with you guys.”
“Would you mind if I watched you for a little bit?” He gestures at the pitching machine.
No. Oh God, please no. I'm going to totally embarrass myself.
“Sure.” I know my face must be about fifty shades of red right now. The thought of him watching me makes me feel so self-conscious that I can barely stand it, but it would be odd if I said no, so I really have no other choice.
Caleb should have told me that Peter practices here as well, I think as I stick a token in the coin slot and then head back over to the plate to wait for the pitching machine to start. My heart is beating on overdrive as the first ball flies towards me. By some miracle, I hit it straight on. My mind seems to be working on overdrive. I focus on every little thing that both Tim and Caleb taught me about form. Every single swing, I wait to hear Peter's voice, for him to criticize me or correct me. He doesn't, though. In fact, when the pitching machine finishes spitting out balls, and I turn around, he seems impressed.
“Good job.” He praises me. “I'm sure you'll do well on our team. I'm going to head over to the 80 mph cages. I'll talk to you later.”
“I'm going to move to a higher speed, too.” I leave the cage and walk with him over to one of the 40 mph cages before we part ways.
I wish I felt more relaxed now that Peter is gone, but my nerves are on high alert. I'm so distracted that I miss more balls than I hit. Thankfully, Peter is engulfed in his own practicing. I watch him out of my peripheral vision, hitting balls like a pro. The speed at which he swings and the precision at which he hits the balls is somehow sexy. Then again, pretty much everything he does is sexy to me. Just watching him breathe is sexy.
Instead of focusing on the 40 mph machine for the rest of the night, I try to scale up slowly. By the time I finish a round on the 50 mph machine, my hands are aching and feeling like they're about to blister. I scowl at my pathetic endurance but know that it's something I'll have to work up to. I pushed myself a bit more today because I wanted to impress Peter, but I still feel like I could do better.
I don't want to be rude and just disappear, so I head over to the cage where Peter is batting and wait outside until he's run out of balls.
“Hey.” I rattle the gate to get his attention.
He wipes the sweat from his brow as he turns to me. “Hey.”
“I'm getting ready to take off. I just wanted to tell you bye before I go.” I thumb towards the lobby.
“I think I'm going to call it a night, too.” He comes out of the cage and grabs a towel from the bench to wipe his face. “Would you like to get some coffee?”
“Coffee?” I parrot the word as if it's foreign to me, too shocked by the invitation to be able to process it.
“Yeah.” He tucks the towel under his arm.
“Sure. Coffee sounds great.” My face lights up, and I silently curse myself for looking so elated.
I follow Peter to a local coffee shop and order a small decaf black coffee because I don't need the calories from something sugary and I definitely don't need the caffeine to keep me up all night. Peter orders his coffee black, too, though he orders a large and doesn't opt for decaf.
We settle into a booth away from other people, and I feel like an idiot because all I can do is stare at Peter and bask in the surrealness of having him all to myself. This is more than a treat for me.
“You and Caleb seem really close,” he says, absentmindedly stirring his coffee. The inflection in his tone suggests...
“We're not like that.” I quickly wave my hands in front of me, wanting to squash any thought he might have that there's something going on between us.
Peter laughs. “That's not what I meant.”
“Good.” I sigh in relief.
“You knew him growing up, right? I imagine you would be close. What was he like?” He props his elbow up on the table, looking at me with interest.
“He was a butthole.” I scowl.
“A butthole?” He guffaws.
I cringe internally from my childish language.
“Maybe not a complete butthole.” I quirk my head to the side, trying to think of a better way to word what I had meant to say. “But...deceptively nice.”
“What do you mean?” Peter settles a bit, but he's still all grins.
I huff, thinking back to that day I had planned to ask Caleb to the dance. The memory of it still stings. “He's the kind of guy who will be nice to your face but speak badly about you behind your back.”
“Oh really?” Peter seems surprised. “He's never struck me as that type of guy. Has he ever said anything nasty behind my back?”
I feel a pit of sickness forming in my stomach from the question. I've already said more negative things about Caleb than I probably should have. I'm letting our past cloud my current judgment of him, though I'm still hurt from him withholding the information from me that Peter doesn't date his employees. The more th
at I think about it, he is still deceptive. Not much different than the guy he was back in high school.
If I tell Peter no, I'll be lying. The first thing that comes to mind is how Caleb called him a player. That wasn't a very nice thing to say, even if it's true. I'm sure that Peter wouldn't want Caleb telling people that, especially women.
He was just trying to protect me, though. And for that, I have to give him some credit. It's not like he said it to be malicious.
Do I really want to mess up their friendship by telling Peter the truth? And if I do, what will that do to my chances of landing Peter as a boyfriend? Will he stop wanting to hang out with me because I'm friends with Caleb? It's not a chance I'm willing to take.
“No,” I reply finally.
Peter shifts his weight. “Maybe Caleb is a different guy than you knew in high school.”
“Maybe.” I screw my face.
Despite his betrayal for the sake of saving my feelings, Caleb has been nothing but nice to me. He didn't have to go out of his way to teach me how to play tennis. Even though he knew that Peter wouldn't date me, he took the time to try to help me anyway. Most other people wouldn't have done that.
As I look at Peter, part of me wonders what in the hell I'm doing. Caleb's words ring in my ears. The fact that Peter had multiple dates this weekend, which he didn't deny when Becky brought it up. What he told Caleb about not wanting a relationship. I can't help but feel that I'm wasting my time.
Then again, why would Peter be hanging around me if he wasn't at least somewhat interested in me? In a short amount of time, we've managed to become friends. That alone seems like it should have been impossible, but it happened. Maybe something more will eventually come of it. I have to hold onto hope.
But do I really want to maintain a friendship with him if he never becomes interested in something more? Being around him makes me feel things. Even now, my attraction to him is so intense that it's almost palpable. And knowing that he's dating other women hurts. Can I maintain a friendship with someone when my heart is yearning for them—when every dismissive action causes me pain? If he ends up in a relationship with someone else while we're friends, it will destroy me. I don't know if I want to go through that.
I sigh to myself, trying to push all of my negative thoughts away. It's far too early to give up on him. We've just established this friendship. I don't think I've landed in his friend zone yet, if guys even have that. However, I'm not quite sure I'm on his dating radar yet either. According to Caleb, I never will be. I can't force myself to believe that, though. Things are going too well between us.
I just need to keep trying to prove to Peter that I'm the most compatible option for him. So far, so good. If we keep running into each other, he eventually has to realize that we're meant to be.
After we finish our coffees, we part ways, and I head home. I give myself a positive pep talk as I return to my apartment. Never give up, never surrender. That has to be my motto if I ever hope to land Peter as a boyfriend. He's already acknowledged me, and he seems to like me well enough or he wouldn't be asking me to hang out one-on-one. It's only a matter of time before everything falls into place.
When I pull up to the access gate of my apartment complex, Caleb's truck is in front of me. I follow him to our unit, parking a few spaces down from him.
“You're out late,” he comments as he meets me at the elevator.
“I was having coffee with Peter.” I hold my head up high, a smile plastered across my face. Every time I hang out with Peter, it feels like a victory against Caleb's nay-saying.
“Oh. That's kind of random.” Caleb juts his head back in surprise.
“I ran into him at the batting cages,” I explain. “He invited me out for coffee afterward.”
“Wow. Things seem to be going better with you guys than I expected.” Caleb steps into the elevator with me when it opens.
“Yes.” I watch him press the button for the third floor. “I really think we've become friends.”
“It seems like it.” He keeps his eyes forward as we begin to ascend. “I'm happy for you. Maybe things will work out after all.”
They will work out,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “You'll just have to wait and see.” It sounds more like I'm trying to convince myself than him, but I doubt he hears that in my voice.
We reach our floor and continue on to our apartments. Once I'm inside mine, I press my back against the door for a few moments, hoping that I'm right.
The next afternoon, I go to the batting cages after work, hoping that I'll run into Peter again. He doesn't show, but that Tim kid is there, and he walks up to ask how my practice is going.
After Caleb pointed out that he was flirting with me the last time, I'm starting to see him in a different light. He's a cute kid, clean-cut with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He gives off an All-American vibe in his baseball uniform. It's obvious that he plays, and that he comes here a lot. He's a bit thin for my liking and definitely too young. Then again, I'm not interested in dating anyone but Peter, so it doesn't really matter.
“It's going well,” I tell him as he clings to the cage door. Thankfully, he waited for me to finish with my round of balls before he interrupted me, unlike Peter did the other day. Peter's interruption was far more welcome, though.
“Let me watch you to see if what I taught you stuck.” He nods excitedly. There's a sparkle in his eyes that I definitely didn't see before. It was probably there the first time he talked to me; I just missed it because, at the time, I couldn't fathom anyone being interested in me.
“Alright.” I slip a token into the coin slot and step up to the plate to swing at the incoming balls.
I feel a lot more relaxed allowing Tim to watch me than I did letting Peter watch me. Then again, I'm not really trying to impress Tim. If he can give me any advice, that would be great. I've already gotten a lot better, though. Now I can hit most of the balls. Making all of them go straight is a different story.
After the machine runs out, Tim steps into the cage with me. He takes my bat and shows me a few pointers before getting a bit more personal.
“So, that guy who was with you the other day...he your boyfriend?” he asks hesitantly.
I instantly feel my cheeks flame. “No.”
“Ah. Good.” He nods.
Now it's blatantly obvious that he's hitting on me. While I'm not interested in him like that, I am highly flattered.
“How old are you?” I ask the question that's been on my mind ever since Caleb teased me about Tim wanting me to go to cougar town on him.
“Nineteen. What about you?” He taps the end of the bat against the ground as he stands in front of me.
“Older than you,” I giggle, enjoying this flirting thing we've got going on. It feels so new and refreshing.
“Oh. You don't look older than me. How old are you?”
“Hey there.” Caleb's voice comes out of left field.
I turn to see him standing outside of the cage. In my peripheral vision, Tim scowls at the unwelcome intrusion.
“Hi, Caleb.” I wave to him, not sure if I'm happy to see him or not.
“Well, I'll let you get back to practicing.” Tim hands me the bat before taking his leave.
As soon as he's out of earshot, Caleb speaks to me with a smirk. “Wow. That kid must have it for you bad.”
My eyes follow Tim back to his group of friends who are practicing in one of the cages with a faster pitching machine.
“I know,” I reply cheerfully, thinking about how it's nice to be the one being pursued for once.
15
Caleb
Ever since I moved to San Antonio and got to know Peter, he's been like a brother to me. Anytime I've needed something, he's been there for me and vice versa. Today, his car is in the shop, so I offered to pick him up from work. It seems like a good opportunity for him and Willow and me to go out to dinner together. That way I can get a read on their friendship and analyze if Peter has any romantic inte
rest in her. A guy can tell if another guy is flirting, and I've definitely known Peter long enough to be able to distinguish his mannerisms.
“Hey asshole, you owe me dinner,” I tell him as he walks out of the Advanced Data Solutions building.
He casts a quick glance around to make sure that no one heard me. He's such a prideful creature, always wanting to be professional at work. My casual addressing of him isn't welcome.
“Dinner it is.” He smirks once he realizes that no one is around. “And don't call me an asshole when we're on company property, asshole.”
“You got it, asshole.” I mock salute him, and he laughs. “When do your minions get off?” I glance back at the door. “I thought that Willow might join us.”
Just as I say it, people start flooding out of the building like the gates of hell have just opened up.
“Ah. Miss Stroop called in today.” Peter glances out into the distance, transforming into the professional business man that he is as soon as he sees the first body that isn't me.
“That's too bad. She would have made an entertaining dinner guest.” I sigh, though I'm not really disappointed. Since she's not going to be around, maybe we can talk about her. Or maybe we won't. It really depends on how I feel. I'm in this strange mood where I want to help her, but I also want to ignore that she's trying to force something between them.
“I would also make an entertaining dinner guest.” Becky jumps up beside me and startles me so badly that I clutch at my chest.
“Oh shit, where did you come from?”
Peter's eyes widen, silently telling me to mind my language around his employees.
“From inside.” She nods back to the building, looking innocent and young with a ridiculously large navy blue bow on her head.
“We should get going.” Peter slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks and stands up tall, obviously trying to seem authoritative. It might work on his peons, but it does nothing against me, especially when I'm the one who is driving.
“Where are you guys going?” Becky rocks on her heels.
