Page 68 of Room 4 Rent

Refers to the action of hitting a pitch hard with the sweet spot of the baseball bat.

CASON

My plan is coming together nicely, don’t you think? The kid likes me. I think we’re friends. She stole my hat and let me hold her our first meeting. I’d say that’s a home run there. And Sydney rented me the room. I’ve also successfully sent every female in my family a painting, aside from my mom. I disowned her a long time ago. And on top of that, Sydney is falling for me.

Do I want that?

For a guy who’s been focused on baseball his entire life and making it to the majors, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope she felt something for me. Hey, I know in a few months my life will be changing drastically, and my place of residence is up in the air, but I can’t help the pull she has on me. From the moment she turned around in that coffee line and stared back at me with surprise, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

During stretches before the game, the guys are talking about their usual shit. Who they fucked, who they snuck into the locker room the night before, and whatever else they can think of. Some days, it’s who got a hard-on in their cup. Other days, it’s whose batting average is higher.

I don’t usually listen, but they’re extra loud today. Seeing how I’m usually a Saturday night pitcher, and I’m set to make another appearance in the same series, I’m worried about my arm and less worried about how flexible the brunette in Noah’s marketing class is.

“She has no gag reflex,” Noah tells us, as if we should care.

“Bullshit.” Forest rolls his eyes.

“It’s the truth.” He makes a humping motion with his mitt in front of his dick. “I touched that dangly thing in the back of her throat.”

“Pay attention in anatomy,” Forest points out, stretching his quads out. “It’s called a uvula.”

“I know what the fuck it’s called, bruh. But if Cardi B can say it, imma. Besides, uvula sounds like vulva, and that’s a stupid word.”

Ez notices I’m not paying attention to them and nudges me. “How’s the MILF?” he asks.

I glare at him, rolling my head from side to side and shaking out my arms. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why? I’m not saying it in a derogatory way. She’s hot as fuck. I’d buzz the Brillo with her.”

Buzz the Brillo? Every day it’s a new term with him. Remember boneless babies? Worst one yet.

“Regardless. Don’t talk about her like that.” I take the ball he sends my way and stare down at the seams.

“Why? You falling for her already?”

“No.” But I can’t stop thinking about her, and the idea of not seeing her every single day disappointments me more than I care to admit.

I walk away from him and toward Chiasson. “Are you distracted, Reins?”

I shake my head, ducking into the dugout. “No, sir.”

Staring out at the diamond, I think about my pitches these last couple of games. My changeup could use some work tonight. I think about my dad and his advice over the years.

There’s the life you want. There’s the life you get. And what you make of it is up to you.

My dad spent most of his adult life on the road, and his wife, she spent most of her time in the arms of others.

I spent my childhood using baseball as an excuse to get away from her.

I’d be lying if I said her vindictive personality didn’t follow me when I left home. In ways, it had. Unfortunately, I had a past I didn’t know how to explain, and no desire to. I’m trying to forget that part of my life when she used me as leverage against my dad.

On the mound, I’m able to throw a pitch and have peace within myself.

The game that freed me.

Tonight’s game starts uneventfully and ends the same. We take the series with a 7-2 win, and I add fourteen strikeouts to my season stats along another home run. I rush from the clubhouse as soon as I’m done with the press and showering, eager to get back to Sydney’s.

Pulling up to the house, I park in front of the garage and notice the lights from the pergola are on, as are the pool lights. She could leave them all night for all I know, but I make my way through the back entrance that she showed me earlier.

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