Page 30 of The Battery
“His slider doesn’t break as much as the starter’s,” Cody said absently. Our thighs were close enough for static electricity to jump between the fabric. “If our guys sit on them, we can make good contact.”
“He’s probably done after this inning.”
Cody shrugged. “So then, next time.”
I glanced at him sideways, surprised at his long view of the game. So far, it had been game-to-game just to get by. And now?
He caught me staring. “What?”
“Why aren’t you in the bullpen?” I didn’t mean it to sound rude and he didn’t take it as such. I noticed that—he knew how to read my tone despite my effort to always keep it the same. I didn’t know if I should be happy about that or worried. There existed a door that I preferred to keep closed. Cody Hill wouldn’t stop knocking.
“Figured I’d keep the Grumpiest Man in All of Baseball company.”
I blew air. My lips flapped. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Notice how the pitcher cocks his head a certain way before throwing a fastball? Like he visibly needs to exert effort before throwing.”
I hadn’t been watching. Cody had taken his cap off to scratch at his scalp. His hair fell effortlessly, like a commercial. He was a handsome sucker, I’d give him that. Once the fans started to see more of him, he’d be making the rounds.
Shut it, Leo, I scolded myself and looked away before he could catch me staring again.
“Shortstop is getting frustrated,” I offered. “Keeps making errors. See what happens when you let feelings rule your actions?”
“Yeah, like shoving a hitter who was getting on your nerves?”
I tsked and shook my head. “That was different.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” he said, directly repeating me and the same tone I used.
I smirked. Genuine. Then pursed my lips.
“That lefty cleanup hitter is late on the fastballs. Did you notice…”
He kept going on with cold assessments of what we watched. My eyes unfocused. Our first night in the hotel went a little outside what I had planned. I had realized I couldn’t continually take advantage of his “services.” I finally had to offer something in return. I enjoyed it—thoroughly. He was so reactive to my touch. It was a hell of a turn-on.
The second night was a direct repeat of the first, with virtually no change in positions and functions. Cody didn’t pretend to be sleeping this time. We jumped right to it. I was dead asleep within seconds of Cody cleaning himself off and crawling into his own bed.
I thought about what we would do that night. I wanted to switch it up a little. It’d be our last night, since our flight was at the break of dawn tomorrow. Typically we’d have a night flight, but it being the Fourth of July, schedules ran a little differently. The team had been invited to a celebration, but most politely declined on account of the early flight.
Cody wished me luck, and it took me a second to realize we were up. I had already grown half hard thinking about what I wanted to do to him that night and it made for awkward shuffling to get into my gear before hitting the field. I couldn’t afford distractions like this.
And distracted I was. Right out of the gate I called the wrong pitch.Twice.The pitcher gave me a “what the fuck” look that I shrugged off.
I was too slow in framing the pitches at the corners of the strike zone. Usually, I would subtly move my mitt to make borderline pitches look like strikes. However, the image of a facedown, ass up Cody in his bed replaced whatever adjustment I had to make with a steadily increase of tightness in my pants.
I didn’t react as quickly to pitches in the dirt, which allowed a runner at second base to make it to third. My timing was off when a runner stole for second and the ball sailed way, way overhead. I was mortified by that one. Thankfully the Winds didn’t score any runs that inning, but I had enough little issues of my own that I would scrutinize myself endlessly.
The evening couldn’t get there fast enough. I gave Cody the cold shoulder when I got back to the dugout. Eventually, he got the hint and left for the bullpen. He’d get his fill of me later. For now, I had to concentrate on the game.
You’re distracted, a voice of light said within me. Typically, those came from a more sinister place. The proverbial devil whispering all those perfect things. This? Well, it wasn’t an angel, exactly. But it was something filled with…
Hope.
That was gonna be the death of me.
*
Frustrated with myself, I took it out on Cody. In a good way. In theonlyway to relieve stress, really. He didn’t have a chance to drop his bag when he came into our hotel room. I had him pinned against the wall, his face flat against the textured wallpaper beside the thermostat. It was almost midnight. Both of us showered, exhausted.Ready.
