Page 15 of Tagging Bases

The silent “but you are” hangs in the air. Danielle’s known my family history since the day we met. She’s very in tune with high society despite the fact that she’d never last a day in that world. She’s a woman in her mid-thirties with wild blonde hair and an even wilder fashion sense—think Betsey Johnson meets your kooky aunt who collects lawn gnomes. They’d laugh her out of any function she tried to get into.

She also knows I hate it. I hate who I am and where I come from. And even if I wanted to help her, I could never becausetheyhold the purse strings.

Danielle’s eyes soften, and she reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. She must see something on my face to change the subject. “Honey, I worry about you sometimes. You’re always closed off. When was the last time you let someone in?”

I shrug off her touch as the familiar walls rise inside of me. “I don’t need anyone, Danielle. I’m fine on my own.”

“Are you, though?” Her knowing gaze cuts through my defenses. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to have a boyfriend. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date. All you ever do is?—”

“Fuck?”

She flinches and nods. I turn away to fiddle with the giant stack of flyers on the reception desk promoting tonight’s slam. “I don’t do boyfriends. You know that.”

“But why not?” Danielle persists. “You’re a catch, Harrison. You’re talented and handsome, and beneath that James Dean exterior, you have a heart of gold. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Why do you insist on ‘extracurricular activities?’”

I can’t help but snort at that. If only she knew the extent of myextracurricular activities.The illegal graffiti, the constant run-ins with the law. It’s not just a string of one-night stands that leaves me emptier than before. “Trust me, Danielle. No one wants a piece of this mess.”

“Oh, stop it,” she says with a laugh, swatting my arm playfully. “You are not a mess. You’re just…complicated. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Do you think I’m a piece of cake?”

Danielle has a way of seeing the best in people, even when they can’t see it in themselves. It’s why she took a chance on me when I came in with an application that had no prior work experience and no references. It’s also why we’re best friends.

“Seriously, though.” She leans against the desk and fixes me with a determined stare as I sit down in my rolling chair. “When are you going to bring a nice boy around here? Someone who can appreciate your passion for art and make you happy.”

“Danielle, I don’t want a relationship. Not now, not?—”

“Ever? You expect me to believe that? Everyone’s built for love.”

She says it with such conviction that I almost believe her. Almost.

“Not me.” I shake my head adamantly. “I’ve got too much baggage. Too many issues. I’m better off alone.”Two truths, one lie.

“Well, if that’s how you feel.” She starts to walk away, then shuffles back. “Oh, I almost forgot! I need all of those flyers posted around the block by noon.”

I gape at her. There must be two hundred printed here. And when she says block, I know she really means a ten-mile radius.

“I hate you,” I grumble as I gather my belongings and figure out how I’m going to carry all of this.

“Clearly,” she laughs. “Because it’s like you said…you’re not built for love.”

I hate her even more.

Chapter 6

Massive Mitts

Charlie

IsCoach Bryant actively trying to kill us?

I’d heard rumors from the last college team he coached that he was a sadist, but this is a whole other level. All day long, he’s been barking out commands to the point that my legs are jelly, my lungs are on fire, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to lose the will to live.

The team collapses in a sweaty heap in the dugout when we finally get a break. I glance over at Daniel, who looks as wrecked as I feel. But there’s also a faint spark in his eyes that suggests he still has something left in the tank.Bastard.

As the team’s pitcher, I rely on Daniel more than anyone else. A good catcher can make or break a pitcher, and Daniel is the best. We’ve been playing together since freshman year, and by this point, we share a brain on the field.

Reaching for my water bottle, I chug the whole thing and let out a belch that echoes across the field.

“Classy,” Daniel snickers.

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