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“You call me a lot of different names.” I’m not sure why I say that, but it’s true. Tenley is the only one in our friend group who calls me August. To everyone else, I’m Gus. She also makes up random names that are supposed to insult me but only make me fucking happier. And up until recently, I’ve been bat boy to her.
Thigh buffer is one of my favorites. I know she’s secretly imagining my stache buffing between her silky thighs.
In time, sweet cheeks.
“You remind me of a lot of different things,” Tenley answers without hesitation. “Keep posting and you’ll be more than just a bat boy…bat boy,” she giggles. “You’ll be a true Atlanta Boy with a halfway decent social media presence.”
I could remind her I already am, but I enjoy her teasing too much.
“Not gonna lie, Mama. I like that I remind you of things. Keeps me in your thoughts.” I grin and it’s cheesy as shit.
Tenley looks to the ground in a laugh, bashfully avoiding my attention. “Cocky baboon.”
“See,” I exclaim. “You’re so sweet to me. It’s only amatter of time before you’re begging me to fuck you and marry you.”
“Will you ever grow up?” I see the heat cross her features despite the tough exterior she puts on.
“Probably not.” I smile before pulling her to me. “Just as a little side note for you…your legs look fucking lethal like this. I’m loving the jersey on you,” I whisper hoarsely in her ear, soaking in the smell of her sweet shampoo.
Tenley hums against me before shoving me playfully. “We’re at the fields, August. Behave.” Her scolding can easily be misinterpreted as interest. She may only want me sexually, but she enjoys my company more than she will ever admit.
Luckily, I’m confident enough to see it and not care.
Time will tell.
“Graves! Team huddle in five,” Cal yells, popping his head in the dugout before retreating again.
“Gotta go,” I tell her, making no effort to move yet.
Tenley nods, her collective persona falling back into place. “Right. Well, I’ll see you after. Show Boston who’s boss, bat boy.” She spins on her heels, leaving me hoping she’ll wait up for me after the game.
“Why bat boy?” I call out to her. “You’ve been around long enough to know the bench ain’t my place.”
She shrugs her shoulders and looks back. “No reason. I just find joy in teasing you.”
It’s as she retreats that I notice it. The name and number in bold print across the back of her jersey dress.
#11, with “Baby Daddy” across the shoulder blades.
I smile so big it’s painful. Maybe I’ve underestimated Tenley’s ability to be cordial. Lately, she’s been a fucking joy to be around and I’m almost positive the end of this nine months will be the end for me.
The end of the temporary happiness I’m getting way too accustomed to feeling.
Before she gets too far, I discreetly pull the Polaroid camera from my bag and snap a photo of her leaving, knowing this will be one to show the kids someday.
The day their mommy spoke her love for me into existence.
“Great game, Graves.”
“You were unstoppable, man. Held third like a fucking beast.”
Fans chant around me, the inclined stands filled with nothing but black and yellow on the Strikers’ side, eager to get our attention as the team celebrates our win. I nod my thanks, not feeling very sociable today, and do my best to hightail it out of here before anyone else can stop me.
I only have one thing on my mind, and that’s feasting on Tenley’s pussy. I had to mentally distract myself enough to focus on the game instead of where my dick wanted me to be. She gave me tips for my socials during this away trip, and I delivered perfectly.
Now it’s time for her part of the incentive.
I can’t wait any longer.
