Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Lifting my arms in an exaggerated fashion to stretch, I flipped him the bird in the process. No doubt he could see me from behind because he barked out a laugh. The sound went straight through me and warmed me to my core.
I popped another candy in my mouth, leaned my head on the window, and rested my eyes again.
When we pulled into the hotel parking lot, Coach gave a pep talk about how we could sweep the whole weekend if we were all in, then asked Kellan to spout off some stats about the other team’s batting and fielding averages. Donovan stood to say something unifying and asked us to put all hands in. As I reached across the seat to show effort, my eyes met Girard’s. He didn’t look away as we did the team cheer. “Be fierce, play smart, win big!”
After setting our stuff in our room—which felt less awkward this time around—we walked down to Devers’s to play a few rounds of cards. This time Girard left first, and by the time I got back to the room, he was in bed, paging through a magazine.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked as I rooted through my bag for clothes to change into.
“Swiped it from the lobby,” he said absently.
I stripped out of my jeans and shirt, then pulled on a pair of nylon shorts. I wasn’t sure if or when I’d get comfortable enough to sleep in my underwear around him, but at least he was so absorbed in the magazine, he barely noticed me getting changed. Look at me being all modest.
“What are you reading?” I asked once I got settled in my sheets.
Now who was being annoying? But I couldn’t help being curious. If I really admitted it to myself, I enjoyed interacting with Girard when it was on my terms.
“Just this article about a player from the Reds and how he was recruited.”
“Which one?”
“Colbert. He’s a relief pitcher.”
I nodded because I knew exactly who he was referring to. “His stats are impressive.”
“Yeah, he’s on track to surpass the record for most career saves in the Reds’ history. Listen to this part.”
As he read to me from the magazine, it felt like a surreal moment, when in fact it was just two guys doing something normal. Having a natural exchange. Being—dare I say it—friends.
“You should pass that on to Lopez,” I told him. Lopez was our closer, and he was really good at shutting out batters and saving games. It was my job to get him there, though. I needed the Pirates to be up a couple of runs before he could walk on the field to relieve me and close out the game with a win. And so far, our record was pretty decent, but I knew I could do better. I was my own worst enemy sometimes.
Girard closed the magazine and cut the lights, and we went to sleep. Or tried to. And based on the rustling of Girard’s sheets, he wasn’t having much better luck. Eventually we ended up in the same position as last time, on our sides, facing each other. I could just make out his features from a combo of the dim bathroom light and the moon shining through the window.
“Maclain?” His tone was cautious, and my stomach felt all funny.
“Yeah?”
“Are we ever gonna discuss the elephant in the room?” he asked, and I stiffened. “Just to throw it out there and deal with it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, weak and strangled. Holy fuck, was he really going there?
“Yeah, you do,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just gonna ask, and you do what you want with the question. But I hope we can talk it through.”
I didn’t move a muscle, cemented to my bed by fear and doubt, even though I wanted to bolt from the room and avoid this conversation at all costs. But maybe he was right, and it was time to get past it. My line of defense would be deny, deny, deny. It’d worked for me so far. At least on the surface.
“Last year in the shower when you were jerking off?” He let the question hang there between us, and I knew what was coming next. “Were you… Did you…moan my name?”
“No, hell no. You’re dreaming if you think I would do that, whatever you’re implying.”
“What, jerk off in the shower?” He made a frustrated sound. “Or jerk off to an image of me?”
“Don’t be so full of yourself,” I said in anger. “If I was going to imagine someone while yanking my dick, it wouldn’t be you.”
“How did I know you’d deny it?”
“Because it’s true?” I countered.
“You’re full of shit,” Girard scoffed, and then seemed to temper his tone as I tried to get my breathing under control. “Listen, it would be okay if you did. Donovan said he didn’t even realize he was attracted to guys until—”