Interference: Book One (Bases Series)

by Grace, Hazel

  It’s the Alpena game, our third game of the season, and Coach Gordon has me beyond anxious with her pacing the dugout mumbling to herself. And to make things worse, our rivals are a bunch of rich snobs who have been talking crap since we got here.

  Bringing my elbow up, I position my bat. The pitcher throws her next ball, which goes over the plate and below my hips.

  “Strike two!”

  I peer over my shoulder at the ump with knitted brows. “What?” Clearly, he isn’t watching closely enough because that was a ball.

  “C’mon,” the ump urges, ignoring my frustration. I clench my teeth together, my nostrils flaring with a heavy exhale.

  “Don’t worry about it, Sawyer,” Gavin’s voice bellows from the stands. I glance over at the sound of his words. He’s standing along the fence with the fingers of one hand laced into the chain links, giving me a thumbs-up with his free one. “You got this.”

  I give him a brief nod and settle my focus back on the pitcher, determined to get on base.

  She pitches, the ball comes outside home plate, but I swing anyways. The ball cracks over the shortstop, and I sprint toward first base, making it there safely.

  “Nice job!” Gavin yells, banging on the fence. I give him a smile and try to catch my breath while I roll my shoulders at their stiffness.

  He’s been helping me every day this week with inside pitches and positioning the ball, knowing this game meant a lot to me. I wanted to impress Coach Gordon and for the girls to be proud of me too. This rivalry went back decades and has been the topic of conversation since I joined the team. Mainly how pretentious the girls from Alpena were and how badly my team wanted to beat them. I guess they haven’t won a game against them in over five years.

  But thanks to Gavin, I’ve been improving, and since going to the movies last weekend, he’s been super friendly toward me. He comes over to my lunch table to say “hi” now, something he’s never done before, and even bought Taylor and I ice cream on Tuesday at King Cone. I can’t ignore that it changed the dynamic of our comradery. He looks at me differently and makes sure I know he’s interested.

  The attention is...different.

  It took Logan a month to ask me out, and even then it was through one of his friends. Gavin is confident, cute, nice, and I get a fuzzy, warm feeling with this newfound awareness. Especially after I chose to kiss him over the jerk who’s been ignoring me all week.

  Thank God.

  “Run, Sawyer!” I come out of my hazy thoughts, mindlessly dashing to second base. The crowd yells and shouts, but I can’t make out their words as I focus on my target. A hard whack hits my ribs, and I hear the words “OUT” shouted near me.

  Studying the field, my focus lands on one of my teammates, Tara, still at home plate with the bat in her hand. Her furrowed brows stab into me like I am the biggest idiot in the world.

  She never hit the ball, and it looks like I just tried to steal a base at the worst possible time.

  A rookie mistake. Except I’m not a rookie outside of this team, I’ve been playing since I was six.

  I blush furiously at my huge mistake and lack of focusing on the game as I make the walk of shame back to the dugout. The singe from Tara’s eyes slash through me, and I can’t wait to hear what Coach Gordon is going to say.

  She doesn’t say anything either, just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, returning back to her clipboard.

  “What are you doing?” Taylor snaps at me when I plop down onto the bench beside her, putting my face in my hands.

  “Someone told me to run and I—“

  “Why would you listen to him though?”

  I peer over at her. “Who?”

  “Colson.” My blood instantly begins to boil.

  Cancel the date, Bases.

  Just...wow.

  Of all the games he could’ve messed with me at, he chose the rival game. The one that would make me look like a joker to my team. Where I’d look like I didn’t know what I was doing or that I really didn’t give a crap. We’re already down two runs, and I just opted an out for my team. The game that would define how often Coach would play me this season and how much respect I’d get from the other girls.

  He wasn’t kidding.

  He is literally going out of his way to make my life unbearable. But I didn’t need his help, going home to see my dad act like he’s a deadbeat to our family was already good enough.

  The position of epic failure was already filled.

  Dad was struggling, he wasn’t selling any homes, the market was slow, and he constantly repeated to Mama downstairs when he thought we were sleeping that he should’ve never moved us down here. As much as I wish we hadn’t, it is what it is now. I missed home and my friends, but this was my life now. A small town with no mall, one drug store, and a massive jerk named Colson Hayes.

  So, to alleviate some of my parents’ stress about paying for me and my sister’s college and our necessities, I picked up a position at Burger Joint to pay for clothes and save for college myself. It was a lot of work, required a stupid uniform that I had to wear with skates, but I’m managing.

  Barely.

  With homework, research papers, softball practices, studying for tests, and extra practices with Gavin, there wasn’t any time for just me.

  Or Colson’s crap.

  Surveying the crowd, I don’t see him. “Are you sure it was him?”

  “Yeah,” Taylor scoffs. “He’s over there.” She points toward the furthest set of stands, and it takes me a few seconds before I see him. His eyes are already latched onto me, smirking with amusement by what he’s just done.

  Blindly, I stand from the bench and stride out of the dugout, hearing Taylor ask me where I’m going, but I’m too livid to answer.

  Softball, this team, it was the only thing that kept my life intact and allowed me an escape from my home life. It kept me from wallowing and worrying just as much as Dad. It keeps me sane when life is hectic and it just brings me that center that I need without getting submerged in being upset.

  Colson appears in my line of sight, yards away, standing with his arms crossed along his chest. The jerk saw me move from the dugout and decided to meet me.

  Perfect.

  Cheering parents sit behind him as he's safely surrounded by people, knowing that I’m going to look more like an idiot if I start yelling at him in front of everyone. But that’s okay, I’m not going to. I continue to stride toward him, one of his brows perk as I get closer. If he thinks I’m going to heed his warning and cower down to his threats then he has another thing coming his way.

  Me.

  Once I reach him, I grip his forearm and pull him with me, away from the crowd. A lonely oak tree stands a few yards away, clear of any people because the last thing I want us to do is cause a scene like Becky’s mom and the hot dog incident.

  “What is your problem?!” I seize, whirling around to face him while clenching my fists at my sides. “You’re a freaking jerk, Colson.”

  His expression is emotionless, cold and unbothered. “I already told you my problem. You chose to ignore it.”

  I knit my brows. “Are you crazy, you just cost my team an out!”

  “You caused your team an out. I already warned you.”

  I take a step toward him. “Is this about last week, your little threat? My date with Gavin?” His jaw and eyes tighten as he takes a menacing step toward me. Too bad I’m too angry to care.

  “So it was a date?”

  “You. Are. A. Psycho! Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

  “When it comes to my best friend, I can tell you whatever I want, Bases,” he retorts. “I warned you, you ignored it. Now, do you believe me?”

  “I believe that you are a self-centered idiot who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Gavin is a big boy, he can make his own decisions. I’m not going to—”

  “You’re going to ruin everything,” he bites out. “He’s going to hurt you, Bases. You’re a conquest,
a mission. Get it through your fucking head that you’re nothing special. You’re not going to tame down the bad boy or make him faithful to you. You are just a girl, a new girl, that Gavin wants to fuck, brag about, and then drop like he has everyone else. In the long run, I’m doing you a favor, Bases. Just graciously fucking take it and leave him alone.”

  “A favor?” I can feel my blood smolder in my veins. I’m so mad that I can’t stop fisting my hands or shifting my weight around. “Over the course of the last five minutes, you’ve sabotaged my game. Are you like...in love with him or something?”

  His scowl deepens. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Nope.” I make sure I pop my “p” for added effect.

  “I’m not gay.”

  I hold up my palms. “Hey, sometimes the macho guys need to hide behind—” He snatches the loops of my softball pants to pull me toward him, my chest crashing into his.

  “I’m not gay,” he repeats, leaning in toward me. “If you want me to show you, I can.” My nose wrinkles, and I push off his chest and he lets me regain my space.

  I promised myself in fifth grade that I’d never let a bully win or bring me down to make me feel bad about myself. It started with a kid in my class, Braxton Smith. He used to get pushed off the monkey bars during recess, and when he curled up into a ball, everyone would surround him, calling him names.

  Kids were mean.

  They sensed fear.

  I wasn’t going to be like Braxton.

  “Quit making more problems for yourself,” he warns softly. “That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg of the things I could do to you. Remember Principle McMahon?”

  I slowly shake my head. “You don’t scare me. She couldn’t expel me without any evidence of doing anything inappropriate or against school rules. And I don’t think you’re doing anything with Miss McMahon.” I narrow my eyes. “In fact, I think she’s a little too high up there even for you, Hayes. You seem to only be able to get the girls who literally fling themselves at you. Up your standards.” He lowers his head to mine, still keeping a few inches between us. A strong smell of pine wafts around me, and I coerce myself to keep my face stern.

  “I don’t want to scare you, Bases,” he breathes. “I want to reiterate one more time because I don’t think you got it the first dozen times. Last warning, I will ruin you. All of your dreams, hopes, with just one sentence. Let’s just say Principle McMahon jumps as high as I tell her to. I can eat pussy that good.”

  A weak scoff leaves my mouth, but my skin tingles at the thought. Miss McMahon is beautiful and young with long blonde hair, legs for days, and is always wearing skin-tight skirts that I don’t know how she gets away with. But it’s not like we have principles and teachers banging on the doors to work at Freemont, though.

  I cross my arms along my chest. “I still think you’re a liar.”

  Colson’s eyes light up, the corner of his lips rising again. “Yeah? The part that I’m fucking her or that I can eat—”

  “Hey!” I jump at Gavin’s voice, breaking my staring match with Colson. “You alright?”

  I straighten my shoulders. “I’m fine,” I reply, relaxing my hands. Gavin’s eyes saunter between the two of us, wearing a scowl and trying to figure out if he interrupted something he wasn’t supposed to.

  “I gotta get back,” I voice, walking in between them when Gavin’s fingers brush my arm.

  “Hey, can I text you later?” I turn around but keep walking backward.

  “As long as it’s after nine.” Gavin nods and gives me a feeble wave. And when I steal one final glance at Colson, his face says it all.

  We’re not done yet.

  Present Day

  After several beers at Mom’s kitchen island and making a pro/con list in my head, I call up Coach to accept his position as the head coach. Nothing waited for me back in California except my coaching job for a bunch of frat boy assholes who didn’t think they needed to work hard since they already made the team. It took me seven years to nab the job after Coach Ellison finally got tired of me telling him that I could be an addition to the team. My pride had already taken a hit after he benched me for four years only to let me play in a dozen innings. He had his personal favorites, and I was trailer park trash who literally took out the trash. While cleaning up the stadium for extra money, working another full-time job, and keeping up with my studies.

  I liked UCLA for the most part. I studied hard to get my master’s in physical education and kinesiology. The teachers were strict but cool, and since I didn’t see myself becoming a pro baseball player in the near future, I settled for coaching. Coach’s offer for his position, in my hometown with people I already knew, would be stupid to pass up.

  And I’m done making stupid mistakes.

  Right after accepting the job, I text Ben and officially join his baseball league so I can keep up on my game and possibly help my team out even more.

  My team. Something Sawyer couldn’t take from me.

  I didn’t give a shit if her seeing me ruined her life, she obliterated mine, and if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it? As Coach said, I’m good at it.

  The sounds of clicking heels enters the kitchen, and I peer up at Veronica from Better Homes Realty, clothed in a tight white skirt that goes below her knees and a light pink top. She gives me a smile.

  “We shouldn’t be too much longer,” she tells me, folding her hands in front of her.

  “I’m in no rush.” She nods and lets her gaze fall over the spotless kitchen.

  “The home is beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I deadpan, shifting my jaw because nothing beautiful ever happened in this house.

  “I don’t think we’ll have any issues selling it. The woodwork in this house is custom made, making it one of a kind. The built-in closet, oh my God, what I wouldn’t do for one of those.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “Mom was always into one-of-a-kind shit.”

  “Her tastes were beyond exceptional,” she beams. “We’re not used to getting such exquisite homes here.”

  “Yep, used to live here.”

  Her eyes widen. “Really? Why would you want to sell this stunning home then?”

  Now she’s in the way.

  I peer back down at my phone. “You said the photographer wouldn’t be too much longer?”

  “Yes, about five more minutes. And I’m sorry about your loss, as well.” My phone vibrates in my hand, and I see a text from Ben asking me for my jersey size.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I mutter, telling Ben to grab me an XL with the number “24” on the back.

  “Miss Boyd was thrilled to see this listing,” she continues. “This is going to bring—” My head shoots up as her words sink in.

  “Miss Boyd?” I repeat, my forehead creasing. She tugs a piece of her long black hair behind her ear.

  “Mhm, she’s running the brokerage while her dad recovers from his heart attack.” I ignore the last part of her sentence. Because who are we kidding, I wasn’t going to ask her if there was something I could do for Sawyer. But I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together.

  I completely forgot that her dad was a real estate agent when we were in high school, and it was the only brokerage in town. I didn’t see his or her name on the website, but I wasn’t really looking for it either. I just want to sell this damn house as quickly as I could to relieve myself from everything that had to do with my mom.

  “How long have you worked for the company?” I ask her, ignoring my phone going off in my hands.

  And why isn’t she here?

  “Six months,” she replies, crossing her legs.

  “Do you like it?”

  Ben: Number is already taken.

  “Oh yes, Mr. and Miss Boyd have been very kind to me, taking me under their wing so I can make some money for school.”

  I raise a brow, looking interested. “Yeah? Good business to get into for that.”

  I guess.

  Me: The
n get my number back for me.

  “It’s okay,” Veronica says, stepping deeper into the kitchen. “But I’m going to school to get into fashion.” I pull my eyes from my phone, letting them glaze her over. Long skinny legs, small ass, no tits, flawless olive skin.

  Shocker, she looks like a model.

  “Can’t say I know anything about that,” I reply. Veronica giggles, her palms skimming the smooth marble countertop of the island.

  “I was that brat that wanted to be in pageants and wear dresses all the time.”

  Ben: He’s been on the team since I started it, so pick another one.

  “Nothing wrong with a girl and a dress,” I point out, giving her a nod. “Did you design that?”

  She beams. “I did.” She does a slow spin for me, giving me a lopsided grin and a view that I didn’t ask for.

  “Wow…nice.”

  “Do you think so?” I give her a tight-lipped grin.

  “It’s amazing work, don’t give up your dream,” I tell her. “How does Saw—Miss Boyd feel about—”

  “Sawyer is amazing,” she exclaims, holding up both her palms like she can’t speak any higher of her. She had that effect on a lot of people. Too bad they didn’t know that inside, she was just a fabrication behind a beautiful face. “She’s like the big sister I always wanted. I have a younger brother so, you know, not too enthusiastic about clothes.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine so.”

  Me: Do I have to kick someone’s ass to get it? Who has my number?

  “Right?! I mean, it’s hard to find someone from the opposite sex to be interested in fashion. Especially my ex-boyfriend. I mean, last week, he dumped me and said my dreams were too far-fetched. That I’d need to live in Hollywood or New York City to make something of it. He just wanted a free pass, if you know what I mean.”

  I sure do, but I’m not going to venture down that road.

  “Wow,” I mutter, looking over her shoulder to see the photographer snapping pictures of the room.

  “Anyways, now he wants to get back together. I mean, can you believe that?”

  I make a look of shock. “Unbelievable.”

  Ben: Roger.