Page 63 of Pitcher Perfect
“There was something else I wanted to speak with you about, Skylar,” Madden said, cutting the distance between them in half. Before she could stop herself, she twisted forward in her seat so she wouldn’t be facing him and drained half of her vodka tonic.Why are you wasting this opportunity, you clown?“It’s somewhat delicate...”
I’ve finally realized I’m in love with you.That’s what he was going to say.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room—”
“I’ve been brought up to professional level. I’m going to catch for the Yankees.”
Skylar sucked in a breath.
Surprise, elation, and a sense of melancholy crammed into her throat, all at once, and she found herself blinking back a layer of shocked tears. “What?” Without overthinking the impulse, she hopped off her chair and wrapped both arms around him. “Oh my God. Congratulations. Oh my God!”
He cleared his throat. Patted her gently on the back. “Caught a scout’s eye while training for triple A and... well, it’s the perfect storm of the New York catcher getting injured and them verging on busting the salary cap. They needed someone moderately inexpensive, but good.”
“That’s amazing. Amazing!” Skylar released him, only to shove him full in the chest. “The fuckingYankees, though? Seriously?”
A rich laugh came tumbling out of him. “I wasn’t given much choice in the matter.”
“Still,” she said, shivering. “Don’t expect me to wear pinstripes at your games.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Gradually, his amusement faded. “Elton doesn’t know yet. I’m worried he’s going to feel...”
“Left behind,” she finished, his reluctance to celebrate finally registering.
“Yeah. Exactly that.”
Skylar deflated slightly under the weight of understanding. She had a love-hate relationship with her brother. They would forever fight like siblings. Competitive ones, at that. And she knew Elton would most likely see Madden’s success as a negative reflection of himself. It would be brief, though. She had enough faith in him to know that. “He’ll beat himself up for not being in stride with you, like always. But one day, he’ll realize this is what motivated him to be better. And long before that, he’ll put aside his own shit and support you. Give him a chance. He’s only an ass, like, ninety-two percent of the time.”
Tension slowly bled from Madden’s face as she spoke. “I can’t wait to see what you do with your talent, Skylar. You were always impressive as a pitcher, but you’re... surprising as a person, too.”
What did that mean?
And why did she just want to take it at face value and move on, instead of dissecting every syllable and equating his sentiments to love, the way she did before?
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling kind of dizzy. Sad. Adrift.
Madden tilted his head and started to say something but was interrupted by the crackle of a PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen,” purred a low voice, the music lifting in volume, a spotlight appearing in a perfect circle in the center of the stage. “You’re in for a rare treat. Performing tonight for the first time, the mistress of the Gilded Garden herself. Put your hands together for the electrifying Eve.”
Glass shattered.
Close enough to Skylar that she flinched away from the sound, only to realize it was Madden’s beer glass. That it had broken right there in his hand. She stared at him in shock, before gaping at the stage. What to address first? The fact that Madden apparently didn’t know his own strength? Or the fact that Eve was performing—something she claimed she would never do?
There she was, however, standing in the center of the spotlight, her waist-length blond hair covering her breasts, an oversized feather fan shielding her lower body.
Plus a teasing smile—and that was all.
Truthfully, she looked like a mischievous angel. Beautiful. If Eve hadn’t spent their entire friendship vowing she would never perform, because she refused to fulfill the expectations of everyone they’d grown up with—whether they were low or high—Skylar would be thrilled for her. But Skylar recalled all thoseconversations well. Recalled the relentless bullying Eve had faced at school, due to her father owning the strip club, a source of local vitriol. And so this sudden appearance of her best friend onstage worried her. Not because there was anything wrong with performing burlesque. Even Skylar, who was inexperienced in the art form, had witnessed its empowering and beautiful nature.
No, she was worried because for Eve, performing was out of character.
Unexpected.
Before Skylar could come up with a plan to address both issues confronting her, Madden was off like a shot. One moment, he was slicing through the crowd, the next he was onstage, throwing Eve over his shoulder and continuing through the blue velvet curtain without so much as a hitch in his stride.
Skylar’s drink remained suspended in the air for two more seconds before she plonked it down on the bar and jogged after Madden and Eve, leaping through the curtain to find her best friend glaring at Madden, feather fan clutched to the front of her body.
“How dare you, Mads. Howdareyou.”
A single word scraped from his throat. “Why?”
