“Aka, dick.”
“Exactly. But most of all, I don’t want to compete with anyone else. You’ve already told me you’re staying in the closet, the sex is amazing, and as far as I know, you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Nope.”
“That’s why you’re perfect. I like you, but I don’t have any expectations of you. We can just have fun. Honest fun. No lies, no crazy secrets…just sex.”
His proposal made sense now. In fact, it was kind of genius. We both got what we wanted without the mess of a relationship. He’d been burned just like I had. He wasn’t going to try to trick me into something I didn’t want. I should have been relieved to have everything out in the open. But I liked him a little more than I should have. A sure sign, if I needed one, that I might be in over my head.
5
We tried to play it cool and casual at first, but it was impossible. Phoenix was insatiable. We both were. We couldn’t get enough of each other’s time, attention, or bodies. We used lame excuses to be together, but we both knew he didn’t need my help reading lines any more than I needed help studying for English Lit. What we really wanted was to get naked and horizontal as quickly as possible. In the weeks after our yogurt date, we secretly became inseparable.
We texted throughout the day and met at my apartment almost every night. I’m not gonna lie…we immediately came together, wrapping around each other like a couple of octopi with twisting tongues and roving hands. I hid a supply of condoms and lube in strategic places throughout the apartment, so we weren’t forced to stop the action when he begged me to fuck him on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, or in the shower. But when we were limp and lifeless after a spine-tingling orgasm or two, neither of us was in a hurry to move on. We cleaned up and either redressed and hung out on the sofa with our feet tangled, watching TV or studying. Or we jumped into bed and just talked.
Maybe part of our connection was rooted in loneliness. Phoenix hadn’t lived in California for long, and he didn’t know many people. And though I had a lot of friends, only one of them really knew me. But the truth was…I liked being with him. He was easy company with a great sense of humor. He laughed all the damn time. There was something about the melodic sound and his twinkling eyes that got to me.
When I wasn’t with him, I thought about him. Nonstop. And that wasn’t like me at all. I usually had an uncanny ability to block out excess noise…especially when I was on the field. It was a good thing too, because we weren’t playing well as a team. Every game felt like a slog. We lost too often and when we won, it was usually due to a last-minute save that had more to do with luck than skill.
Today was a good example. I was one of the only players who had a decent game. I hit a double and triple and batted two runners in, one of which tied the score and put us into extra innings. We eventually won, but Coach Glenn didn’t seem happy. He didn’t say anything overtly negative, but he looked directly at me when he made a barbed comment about our lack of concentration and chemistry before walking out of the locker room. I actually looked over my shoulder to see if he was talking to someone else.
Javi squeezed my shoulder, then sat on the bench to pull off his cleats. “Don’t mind him, man. You saved our asses again. Glenn knows it. He’s just used to us being rock stars like last year.”
“Whatever. We’re doing okay. I’m not gonna worry about it,” I huffed dismissively.
“Hey, at least he didn’t switch your position out of the fuckin’ blue,” Micah griped as he opened his locker.
“You’re a good outfielder too. What do you care?” I countered.
“I don’t. But most coaches switch up pitching when things aren’t gelling. Moving me to center field isn’t gonna change anything,” he said.
Micah was right, but he was also looking for someone else to blame. I wasn’t going to participate in a nowhere conversation. I turned away just as Minsky piped in.
“What he’s trying to say is our chemistry sucks. We need to do some team bonding. It’s March now and the weather’s warmer. We could have a barbeque or a pool party or go bowling or something and spend some time together off the field too. We should be there for each other, you know? Even carpooling to practice and local games might make a difference.”
Javi and I shared an eye roll at Minsky’s syrupy tone. He was famous for oversimplifying matters with homespun “Can we all just get along?” suggestions.