Page 43 of Switch Pitching

“Great catch, man,” I say, clapping him on the back.

Ethan smiles, his eyes glinting. “Thanks. Your pitching was on fire.”

The team gets wrapped up in congratulating ourselves as we head for the locker rooms. We’re all caught up in the win, and nobody can talk about anything else.

I step into a shower, letting the cool water wash the game dust away. We won tonight, but something is off. It’s strange, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

It’s gotta be the adrenaline.

As I finish up, I glance across the locker room and lock eyes with Ethan. He’s drying off, his hair tousled and damp. There’s a tired but satisfied expression on his face, and it’s infectious.

“Hey,” I call out, grabbing my towel. “You wanna head out?”

Ethan nods. “Yeah, I’m down.”

Ethan seems happy but subdued and I’m still buzzing. I just want to tackle Ethan and wrestle him, but not in public. That can wait for when we get home.

We make our way back to the apartment, and once we’re inside, Ethan flops down on the couch, stretching out with a sigh. I grab two glasses and pour some water for both of us, a sense of contentment washing over me.

Handing Ethan a glass, I sit down next to him, but before I know it, I jump up and straddle him, grinning as I gaze down at his face. “Come on, you’re hogging the couch,” I tease, trying to get a laugh out of him. I boop him on the nose with my finger for effect.

Ethan stiffens under me, his eyes widening. “James, what are you doing?”

“Just messing with you,” I say, ready to get off him and go watch TV. But then I notice his face, and my laughter dies down. Ethan isn’t amused. He’s something else entirely.

“James, I think we should talk,” he says, trailing off.

I slide off him and sit on the edge of the couch. “What’s up?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but there’s a knot forming in my stomach.

Ethan sits up, running a hand through his hair. He looks tortured, conflicted, and hurt. “I know you’re being friendly, but?—”

But what?

Ethan inhales sharply. “It’s confusing me. You get way too flirty and affectionate with me. I’m trying not to feel anything about it, but I don’t know what to think. It’s messing with my head.”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to mess with you.”

We sit in silence, and I can see the pain in Ethan’s expression. It’s like a punch to the gut.

I’ve always been affectionate, and it breaks me to know that this messed with Ethan. I hate seeing him like this.

Guilt rises in my stomach as I grapple with the weight of what I’ve done. I’m an idiot. Ethan’s gay. How could I be so stupid and flirt with him as a joke?

Ethan is staring at the wall and he’s holding back a ton of tears. Shit. I’d do anything to see him smile again, and I care about him so much it hurts. Ethan doesn’t deserve to be sad. He’s the kindest, most lovable dude I know.

“Ethan,” I start, reaching out for him as he turns his head toward me.

I don’t know what to say to make this better, and my first instinct is to hug him, but that just seems wrong. Instead, I keep my stance open to let Ethan make the next move, and he falls into me, his eyes closed. My arms circle his torso, and I pull his broad frame into me. The hug is tight and unyielding. His body fits against mine in a way that’s natural and comfortable. We’re so close right now and it’s almost overwhelming. I can smell his deodorant mixing with faint traces of the clubhouse shower gel, and it’s intoxicating.

I ease out of the hug, facing Ethan and letting myself gaze intently into his eyes. They’re so green and mesmerizing.

Mesmerizing?Since when do I think Ethan’s eyes are mesmerizing? I mean, it’s true, he’s got super pretty eyes, but that’s normal for someone like Ethan. He’s the most attractive person I know.

And then it hits me.Ethan is the most attractive person I know.

Something clicks, and it’s like my brain unlocks. I’m suddenly noticing a lot more about Ethan and fixating on tiny details. The way his soft t-shirt is hugging his muscular arms. The subtle dip of the fabric that falls between his pecs. His strong neck, his sharp jawline, and his defined, flushed face that’s contoured by tidy, two-day-old stubble.

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