Page 12 of Hard Hitter

"But I want to learn from the best," said Rae. "So get dressed, take care of...whatever you need to take care of, and I'll meet you out front."

"Take care of..?" Quinn looked at her confused.

Rae put a hand to one side of her mouth and whispered, "Masturbation."

"Oh my God!" Quinn shouted, horror-struck that the girl he'd just been dreaming about told him to jerk off if need be. "Rae, just go wait outside!"

Rae giggled once more, paused to grab one of Quinn's many baseball caps off his dresser and pulled it on over her long, sun-bleached locks before hopping out his bedroom window with ease. Quinn was left in his room, hands on his head as he threw himself back on the bed mortified, but grateful she hadn't been able to see into that dream.

That dream.

What had that been about anyway? Rae was his friend. Just a friend. Best friend, actually. And obviously she had no misconceptions of how their relationship worked. She was like one of his guy friends he could talk to about anything. I mean, hell, she'd talked about masturbation in front of him, andthat'snot something you mention in front of girls you want to...what? Go out with? Kiss?

It didn't matter. That dream version of Rae was not the real one anyway. It was probably just because they hung out all the time and he didn't see many other girls unless they were at school. They were on summer break and he'd seen Rae nearly every single day for the past three months, so it made sense that she would pop up in his dreams.

Quinn tried to shake off the weird feeling the dream had given him and got dressed. He threw on a pair of athletic shorts, a Nike t-shirt he'd scored at the thrift store, and his white Nike sneakers which were possibly the only non-thrift store item he owned. These had come in a donation box from one of the local charities, providing new clothes and shoes to "underprivileged" kids.

He resented the term, but there was no point denying it. When he spent all day with Rae and kids in similar neighborhoods- okay, maybe notquitelike Rae's, but middle-class ones- their privilege and his lack thereof was clear as day. He'd met a few of the kids in Rae's neighborhood and, honestly, they were all little pricks. Quinn wasn't sure how Rae had turned out the way she did; even her sister, Camille, was sort of a spoiled brat at times.

Exiting his bedroom, he stopped to peek inside his mom's room where she was still sleeping face down, one arm hanging off her small twin-sized bed. "Mom, I'm going out," Quinn called into the room. When she let out an audible grunt, he pulled the door shut, satisfied that she was still alive, and headed down the hall toward the front door. He paused with his hand on the screen door, looking out where Rae was waiting for him on the sidewalk.

She was squatting down to pet a dog whose owners were taking it for a walk. It was a small spotted mutt, and it was going crazy for the attention. Rae giggled as the dog jumped up and licked her chin, the owners apologizing. She brushed off the apologies, explaining that she'd always wanted a dog.

Quinn felt that growl in his stomach again as his eyes traced the outline of her long, summer-tanned legs in that damn skort. Had he never realized how effortlessly pretty she was? He'd noticed that everything else had seemed easy and effortless to her, but this was the first time he'd seen her like this. He swallowed hard and shoved those feelings away. Nope, he couldn't risk their friendship with these stupid puberty-based emotions. Once he felt he'd gained control of himself, he pushed on through the screen door and met her out on the sidewalk like he had so many times before.

After a short walk, Quinn and Rae came to a stop at a two-story cape cod on Oak Street where Chris Watson, his little brother, Tyler, and Jett Miller were in the front yard playing catch. The pair waved and greeted their friends, Quinn jogging up the driveway and into the garage where he knew the spare sports equipment was kept. Hegrabbed two gloves and a bat, tossing one of the gloves to Rae as he walked back out and joined the circle.

"What's the plan today?" Chris asked, throwing the ball overhand to Quinn.

"Apparently Rae thinks she needs batting lessons," Quinn replied.

"I do," said Rae. "We've set up how many neighborhood games now, and I've had like two decent hits. I need practice."

"Uh, my question," Jett chimed in, "Why are you wearing a skirt? Isn't that gonna be weird when you slide into home base and flash everyone your panties?"

"Charming, Jett," Rae threw the ball hard to him, "and it's a skort."

"A what?" Chris and Jett both looked confused.

"It has shorts under it," Quinn explained, blinking the image of his best friend's panties out of his head.

"Aaah, smart," said Jett. "It's a diversion. The other team thinks they're about to get a peek at girl panties, so instead of watching the ball they're waiting for you to slide. Clever strategy, Rae. I like it."

"I'm not wearing it to create a diversion," Rae said, defensively. "I'm wearing it because I think I should be able to play sports and still be a lady." She gave a dainty curtsy.

"Ladies don't make guys think they're gonna see their panties," Jett said.

"Can we please stop talking about Rae'spanties?" Quinn groaned, wincing at the last word.

"Thank you, Quinn," Rae nodded in his direction. "I guess you're the only one I can trust around here to respect my privacy."

Quinn swallowed guiltily, averting his eyes from Rae and throwing the ball to Tyler instead.

"Does this mean we need to go to the park then?" Chris offered. "If so, we should probably get going."

The group agreed and, after letting Mrs. Watson know where they were going, they set off toward the public ballpark. Once there they set up positions, Rae getting to bat first to get her practice she insisted on, Chris pitching, Quinn catching, and Jett and Tyler between bases.Before squatting down to catch, Quinn helped Rae get in her stance near the worn piece of ground that was recognized as home plate.

"You don't want to be too close or too far from the plate." Quinn placed his hands on Rae's shoulders, looking down at her black and white low-rise Chuck Taylors, positioning her to the right spot, "It's easier when there actually is a plate, I guess." He looked up at Chris on the pitcher's mound and determined this was the right spot, "Okay, let's see your stance."

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