Page 8 of Crew
Neal chuckled, tipping his bottle toward him. “Man, you’re lucky we’re chill. Some teams would make a whole thing out of it.”
Singleton leaned back, casual as ever. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t play for those teams.”
That earned him some approving nods. If anything, his confidence just cemented his place with us even more.
Latham elbowed Robinson. “Guess that means Singleton won’t be stealing your girl, huh?”
Robinson rolled his eyes and gestured to himself. “Like he could compete with this.”
We erupted in laughter, and just like that, the conversation shifted to something else. No weirdness, no hesitation, just another thing we knew about Singleton now.
I took a sip of my beer, barely registering the next topic. My mind was still on that moment, that easy way he’d said it. No reluctance. No glancing around to gauge reactions. He acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because it was.
For him.
For me … not so much.
I shifted in my chair and took another drink, letting the bitterness ofthe alcohol distract me. I wasn’t uncomfortable. I wasn’t. It was just—I didn’t know what it was.
I’d known I was bi since middle school. Maybe before then. But no one else did. Not my family, not my friends, not anyone I’d ever played with. It had never felt like something I could just put out there, not without risking how people saw me. How the game saw me.
Singleton didn’t seem to have that fear. He sat there, completely relaxed, like being out and proud in a clubhouse full of straight guys wasn’t a big deal. And, apparently, it wasn’t for my teammates.
But would it be different if it were me?
Would they joke the same? Act the same? Treat me the same?
I had no idea.
4
Knox
In baseball,things change quickly, and the difference between the somber mood in the clubhouse now and the excitement of our win two nights ago was proof of that. There wasn’t any music playing or joking around. Instead, everyone seemed frustrated.
Schmitt stepped into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. “You all need to get your heads out of your asses and figure your shit out.” His eyes swept over all of us. “A hit here and there doesn’t mean anything if we get outplayed.”
I knew his words weren’t intended only for me, but I still took them to heart. Hitting a game-winning home run didn’t mean shit unless I was consistently producing both offensively and defensively every game. And the error I’d committed in the second inning tonight wasn’t going to help me make a good impression on management.
“Now hit the showers, then get on the bus,” Schmitt instructed.
Sighing, I unlaced my cleats and headed for the showers like Skip said.
Once I was clean, steam filled the air as I shut off the water and grabbed my towel. I dried off quickly and slipped on my boxer briefs before walking out. As I rounded the corner, I nearly collided with Stratton.
“Fuck. Sorry,” I muttered.
“No worries.” He stepped aside, giving me space to move around him.
I tried to keep my head down, but I couldn’t help it. My gaze traveled from the V of his hips barely covered by the towel around his waist, over his rippled abs, across his wide chest, and up to the dark brown hair curling slightly around his ears.
For a split second, I could have sworn I saw his eyes flick over me too, but that had to be wishful thinking on my part.
I brushed past him, berating myself for even looking. I was part of the team now, and allowing myself to get distracted by our catcher, despite how sexy I found him, wasn’t worth the risk.
Back at the hotel,no one seemed interested in going out. Losing two games in a row had a way of doing that. Still, a few of us decided to hang out downstairs for a couple of drinks before heading to bed.
