by Remi Grey
She had taken me to a little league game where she was monitoring for injuries. It was quite the compliment to the team and others that even though she was a physical therapist for the MLB, she spent her time here as well.
“You literally look like you’re here to rob the hot dog stand.” She laughed at me as we watched the game in silence. I was wearing black sunglasses, a few sizes too big for my face. I had wanted to go at least a little bit incognito -- hoping that this would maybe turn into a date, and I could keep things somewhat private.
Except, she shut down that notion real quick and repeatedly asked me to take off the shades. No idea why she was so hell-bent on that.
“Could somebody grab some nachos?” Lionel suddenly decided he was hungry, even though we had asked him twice if he wanted something. We even debated in front of the stands if we should grab him a snack in which he insisted, no.
His lips often twitched when he was being difficult, and more often than not, I found myself wondering if he was purposely being mischievous. His lips were twitching now as he stared us down.
I watched Sydney, patient as ever, as she wheeled him back towards the stands, shaking her head at me in a half-joking manner.
A ball rolled into my ankle, distracting me. I picked it up and tossed it gently into the glove of a kid who had it outstretched.
“Hey.” He said when he caught it. “You’re Shawn Weeks under there?”
I took the sunglasses off and gave them a nod. “Sure am.”
"Oh man, that blows." One of the kids, who couldn't have been more than 12 said. "That you're stuck here instead of getting to play ahead of the Wild Card Game.”
“It’s not so bad.” I shrugged.
“It is.” The other kid spoke up. “Although the Bruisers haven’t been doing so bad so who knows if they even need you.”
That was enough of that. I turned back towards the field – cutting them off from making further comments to my face.
“Is your injury from punching a wall again?” The kid’s nasally voice was back.
Seriously? They were trying me. The whole wall punching thing came up time and time again -- the result of too much drinking and too much anger. Although it was quite far in the past, the memes and video clip that came from it seemed to resurface quite frequently, which is probably why these two punks knew about something that was before their time.
I ignored them until again until I was hit again. This time the ball grazed my side. I let out a low whistle. That would have been bad if it had hit my injury.
I grabbed the ball and spun to face two somewhat startled faces. I had two options -- ignore or engage. I chose the first option until one of the boys told his friend that they had nothing to worry about since I was irrelevant.
They can continue to think that I didn't care. I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, especially not with Sydney and Lionel approaching.
She was starting to like me. Although I wasn't supposed to be doing any strenuous pitching activities, I was getting better at channeling my anger. I threw the ball, hard against the tree, half out of anger, and to show them that I still had it.
I knew it was stupid before I heard the crack of the tree and the shattering of glass. The ball had somehow bounced off a tree into a nearby car window.
Amidst the shocked expressions was one that stood out the most. Sydney was more pissed than I had ever seen her.
Chapter 8
Sydney
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I was well aware that my voice was coming out in a hysterical shriek. I wasn't just mad that the whole bet with Aidan was shot to shit. I was mad that he literally had zero disregard for anyone else’s safety around him. That and he literally could have aggravated his injury that we had spent the past two months rehabbing from. I had gotten him better than both of us expected, and now, towards the end, he chose to be complicated. I knew I needed to calm down. This was no way for a physical therapist to act around their client.
After dropping off Lionel, I drove to the only place I could think of. My office. I had ignored him the whole drive, keeping my hands on the wheel and eyes straight ahead. He wasn’t dumb enough to say anything to me – until now.
“If you’d just calm down, I can explain what happened.” There he went again – speaking as if he knew better than anyone else.
"I'm well aware of what happened." I shot back. "I was there. What if you would have hit those boys? What if someone was in the car? What if someone crossed your path? What if you would have hurt-”
“I’m a professional pitcher.” He cut me off with a laugh -- not taking a lick of this seriously. “If I thought anyone would be in danger, I wouldn’t have done it. As for the injury – I wasn't thinking at that moment.”
“I can’t do this anymore.” I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath as he studied me.
"Hey, don't say that." His voice changed. I knew he was trying to be gentle when he realized that I had been pushed to my breaking point with that ball-throwing incident – but he really had no clue as to the real reason why.
He reached out and gently put his arm on mine. I knew I should pull away like I had been doing all of those times before.
But this time, as I studied him, I noticed a mix of fear and sadness that I hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t just this tough MLB star standing in front of me. During these past few months, I had gotten to know him as a real person. Something that not many other people had the luxury of doing.
“I need you.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
I felt my heart sink. The Bruisers had made it to the Wild Card Game. The t-shirt I was wearing from a local printing shop capitalizing off the hype was a sad reminder of that. My work and time with him were nearing an end, and I wasn't sure what was happening between us -- if anything. I think ultimately, both of us were in predicaments where we weren't allowed to feel.
I had failed in the second obligation I had made. The one that I couldn’t even tell Shawn about, and for the first time, I realized that the reason was that I didn't want to hurt him. I did care, and I knew I shouldn't.
I looked up at him -- standing just inches away from me now. I didn't know where we'd go from here, and I wasn't sure what would happen next, but for the first time -- I felt needed. Not just as a physical therapist, not only as someone trying to help the team's image but as a person needed by another person in its purest form.
“You know. I’ve been used to not having feelings for so long. Literally just being a piece of property that’s bought, and sold, and bid on. Not allowed to feel, and I've been okay with it." His blue eyes were staring intensely down at me as he was brutally honest.
No one ever got to know the real Shawn, the one underneath the surface of all the pressure and scandals, but here he was, exposed, and it’s all because he told me he needed me.
“Hey.” I reached out and rested my hand gently on his shoulder. “You’re not just property. All of these things that are said about you and what not are because you don’t let people get to know the real you.”
“That’s because no one’s interested in that. If I’m not making them money -- who gives a shit who I am or how I feel. That's the nature of the beast, though.” He was starting to distance himself – I could feel it.
"People give a shit, Shawn," I told him firmly, which was weird coming from someone who honestly didn't know anything about his personal life, which he kept tucked away. Aidan had even told me that much. Never had he had a player who kept to himself as much as Shawn did. His parents were never mentioned, his family and friends never gave interviews.
"And if it doesn't feel like that -- remember that I actually do," I said the words quickly before I would regret them.
It was the truth after all that we had gone through on his journey to recovery these past few months. That’s why I wasn’t even surprised when he was the one who leaned down first to kiss me, his hand gently cupping my chin.
I had two choices to m
ake here, continue to keep up those walls or let them fall down so that Shawn could come in. I chose the latter, reaching up and grabbing hold of his hair as I pulled him into me. He had backed me up against the wall. His muscular body pressed fully against mine as we lost ourselves in each other and all track of time. It was as if we came to a mutual agreement that no more words were needed. It was all physical at this point.
Shawn pinned my hands above my head as he held me against the wall, my wrists were tight in his grasp as his sweet kisses got more rough and passionate. I could feel his erection bulging against my thigh and I knew there was no backing out.
I pushed him back towards the chair that we had so many conversations before about his plans for recovery.
“Gentle.” He teased as he leaned back into it.
"Sorry," I said as I bit his lip, but he let out a low growl in response.
“I’m just messing with you.” He pulled me with him onto the chair so that I was
straddling him. "Did you know that I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you?"
“I can’t say the same.” I teased as I worked my kisses and tongue down his body from his collarbone to his abs. I knew he had a beautiful body. I watched him during all of those strengthening exercises we had done. Still, I could never have imagined he looked this amazing underneath it all. Tanned, sculpted, and literal perfection at my fingertips and lips.
I almost felt like I wasn't good enough as I slipped out of my clothes, but judging by his expression and the glean in his eyes – I was everything he wanted. The look as if he wanted to eat me up.
Our whole relationship had been based on this game of teasing and pulling away, and I wanted to do a little bit of that now.
I felt oddly empowered as I slid his jeans and boxers off as well. I knew this broke so many rules written and unwritten, but I didn't care. I had never been in a situation like this before. Of course, I was a pretty girl who had her fair share of suitors come knocking, but none ever made it onto magazine covers for being the sexiest man, and here we were. Shawn Weeks was sitting in front of me, his eyes closed as his fist gripped my hair tightly as I took him into my mouth – gently moving my tongue around in slow and teasing motion enjoying all of his sweetness.
"I know what you're doing." He groaned, but he was too weak to fight back, or so I thought. He let me continue for a few more minutes before he abruptly pushed me back. "Two can play at this game," he said as he pulled me onto him, teasing me with his hands while his mouth went to work on my breasts. When our lips found each other again – our kisses switched from teasing to some sort of animalistic need buried deep inside of us. It was as if this whole time, all the annoyance I felt at him, was building to this moment. I needed a release. I needed him more than I ever needed anything before.
I pushed my thoughts of self-doubt, and what the hell are we doing here? Aside as I took him inside me, groaning as we fell into a rhythm.
He dug his nails into my waist as he kept a grip around me, but after being so standoffish for so long -- I needed to be held and controlled by him.
I leaned my head forward, burying it into his neck as I let my moans fill the empty room as they echoed all around us.
"Fuck, Shawn," I screamed. I buried my head into his neck as he thrust into me harder now, the chair knocking into a wall which thankfully no one was on the other side of.
I knew this was wrong, and eventually, things would have to go back to the way they were before. But for now, I didn't want this to end. I was enjoying this moment with Shawn.
Chapter 9
Sydney
“Mini quiche?” Patsy passed the tray down the row of neighbors until it eventually made its way to me. I looked down, not hungry. My stomach was in knots.
“Shawn Weeks, Number 22 is getting his ninth nod as an opener. The last time these two teams met -- he tossed a perfect first inning, but unfortunately, he was out for several weeks with an oblique strain. We talked with him earlier and he said he’s ready now more than ever to make it up to his team and take them all the way.” The reporters voice filled the room of neighbors that had gathered.
"Thank God, he's back," Archie said from my left, where he was sprawled out on his recliner. "We would have been fucked without him."
"Language." Patsy chastised him, and several of the other neighbors laughed.
“Shh.” Archie waved his hand. “Shawn’s talking.”
I stared at the screen, Shawn, with his dazzling row of teeth was chewing gum while slightly swaying from side to side. I knew it was a nervous tick of his.
I hadn’t heard from him lately. He had been working so hard to get ready and in the grand scheme of things – he was scared that he had opened up to me, and in response, he ended up pulling further away.
I also hadn’t heard from Aidan regarding any more PR stunts, either. With the city's team being in the Wild Card Game, people were excited no matter what.
On the bright side, I no longer had to feel like I was living some dirty double life. Still, something felt as if it were missing.
I turned my attention to the TV. The Bruisers had come in hot -- leading 3-0 all the way till the bottom of the 4th thanks to an early hit from Ollie Reinhardt when the bases were loaded. Shawn was having a hell of a game, too, and as much as the neighbors thanked me for that – I knew I couldn’t take credit.
He was the one doing all of this on his own, and my work was done. Whatever happened next was up to him, and I think that’s the way it was meant to be this whole time.
I felt sad watching him. A stranger on TV and I couldn’t really take it anymore. Everyone at the party was happy – and they were starting to feel a little toasty already thanks to Patsy’s champagne. Two glasses had already been broken, and someone was picking mini quiches off the floor after Gary, the podiatrist, threw the tray in frustration when the Mountaineers had scored. Thanks to the chaos, no one questioned my excuse for a headache, and I was able to slip out early.
I knew I couldn’t stay there and so I drove around before heading towards the Mercy Maverick Center. I needed to clear my head. I needed space. I needed to forget that there was even a game happening and so I drove, killing the radio. It was getting late, and I knew the game had to of ended. For a brief moment, I found myself looking to the sky, wondering if I could see fireworks indicating any celebration.
Eventually, I pulled into Mercy Maverick Center. I knew Lionel would be up. He didn't sleep. I scanned myself in, and sure enough, he was pulled up next to the table, but he wasn't alone. A tall figure wearing a brand new baseball cap was next to him, I knew everything about that posture before he even turned around, flashing a smile at me.
“What are you doing here?” I stayed a decent amount away, surveying him.
“Bringing Lionel a bobblehead.” Shawn lifted it off Lionel’s lap and shook it. It was a replica of himself.
“We had a bet. If they won, I had to promise never to wear another team's jersey again during what's left of my life," Lionel stated.
“And if they lost?” I asked both of them.
“Then, Lionel gets a bobblehead," Shawn answered for me, and my heart sank.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Shawn stood up and made his way over to me, where we stood awkwardly in front of each other, unsure of what to do next. "I can get you one too if you'd like."
“A bobblehead doll?” I asked with a laugh.
"That or the real thing. Whatever one you prefer." He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. "Although the bobblehead one is less fragile than the real thing."
“Fragile or not -- I’ll take the real thing.” And with that, I pulled him in for a kiss, this time it was one filled with certainty because for once, I Sydney Baker, knew exactly what I wanted.
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