Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
That scares the hell out of me so I let him go.
9
Josh
In the backseat of the car, a few hours later, I fiddle with my phone. Typing and deleting. Trying to untangle this new knot of emotions for the third baseman I can’t get out of my head.
This is so ridiculous. I had one date with the guy.
But was it really only one date?
It’s kind of been . . . all season.
And he’s kind of been on my mind for a long time.
But I feel like I struck out looking back there, and that’s the worst way to go at the plate.
As the driver weaves through traffic on the way to the airport, I try to figure out what I want to say to Chris. So I take some practice swings.
* * *
Josh: Hey.
* * *
Josh: Hey Chris.
* * *
Josh: Chris I hope your flight’s going okay.
* * *
Josh: I’m sorry we left off like that. I wanted to tell you before you left that . . .
* * *
I stare at the screen. “Nice effort, Spencer,” I mutter, shaking my head. I delete those half-hearted attempts. Time to step it up. I try one more time, taking a deep breath before I type out the stark truth.
Josh: I like you. A whole fucking lot. I’m so into you. It’s kind of crazy. And I want to see you when we’re back in New York. For a drink in Hell’s Kitchen again. For a night at my place. For . . . both. And more than one date. Or two. I don’t know who all these other guys are who didn’t want to go out with you again, but they’re fools. Or I guess not, because now we get a chance. If you want one.
* * *
There. I said it. And hell, I strangely feel better. Maybe I needed to say it to myself first. To put it all out there in black and white. To know what I want. I start one more message, but I stop.
Text is not the way I want to tell him I’m into him. I’d rather say all this to his face. His sexy, adorable, smoldering face I want to see day after day.
I check the schedule. The Union play the Gothams the day after I return from spring training.
Normally I can’t wait for the season to start. But this year is even worse. Six long weeks away from each other.
Hmmm. Not sure I can wait.
And kinda don’t want to wait to tell Chris how I feel till I return to New York. But the chances of us seeing each other before then is slim. We’re both starters, so my team won’t send me four hours across the state to Miami. Same for him the other way.
So, as we near the airport, I call in a solid and ask Yoda. The guy should know what to do. He’s married to another baseball player.
* * *
Josh: So, you were right.
* * *
Grant: Of course I’m right.
* * *
Grant: About what?
* * *
Josh: Me and that guy.
* * *
Grant: You banged it out! Yes!
* * *
Josh: Sort of.
* * *
Grant: Josh, are you confused about how banging works? Fine, I can explain the basics. First, get some top-shelf lube . . .
* * *
Josh: Yeah, I get that part, dickhead. That’s not the issue. The real issue is—yes. You were right. Yes, I need to put myself out there. Yes, I want to see the guy. So . . . what’s next?
* * *
But before he can reply, I know the answer.
I’ve known it since we parted ways on a chilly New York sidewalk.
Grant isn’t the person I need to talk to. I need to talk to Chris.
10
Chris
The night I arrive in Florida, I’m sitting out on the deck at my rental place, definitely not staring at a blank text thread, when three dots pop up.
* * *
Josh: …
* * *
Of course, sharing a rental place means that my teammates—my wonderful, talented teammates, who will forever be my brothers in a shared championship—are here. They’re also world champ snoops.
“Wow, what’d Josh do to earn an eggplant emoji?” our first baseman asks. “Or is that a rating scale and one eggplant is the lowest?”
“Nothing,” I say. “It’s an inside joke. We’re just friends.” Saying that feels approximately like swallowing sawdust. I wash my mouth out with a swig of ginger ale.
Eventually, the dots disappear. My disappointment doesn’t.
The next day my phone pings. And I’m not so disappointed anymore when the eggplant emoji graces my screen.
* * *
Josh: How’s Florida?
* * *
Chris: Aren’t you also in Florida?
* * *
Josh: The Gulf Coast is totally different. Miami’s fun.
* * *
Chris: Any place I am is fun :). Tampa can’t be that bad.
* * *
Josh: Spring training, you know? They keep calling us the league champions. Like that’ll make up for not being world champions.