And that’s what I do.
6
Grant
At the end of practice, I shut my locker, say goodbye to the rookies and the other guys, including the veteran Rodriguez, even though I’m competing with him for the starting slot. Declan, though, I avoid, so I don’t accidentally gawk at the smoke-show of a shortstop. I make it out of the locker room, but as soon as I’m out the door, I remember my phone.
Shit.
I go back in and scan for Declan, relieved—mostly—that he’s dressed. He’s parked on the bench by his locker, talking with Crosby and Chance, who slides his wedding band onto his finger. He doesn’t pitch with it on.
Other players mill about, chatting as they button shirts and tie shoelaces. Declan slowly turns my way, that easy smile sending a zing down my stomach.
I have got to get it together.
Maybe tomorrow will lessen the impact of him. Declan is a lot of heat to get used to. Maybe I’ll adjust, like inching into a hot tub.
Now I’m picturing the shortstop sinking into a hot bath, and I swear I’m not doing this on purpose.
“Let me guess,” he says. “You want your phone back, rookie?”
“I do. Thanks,” I say as he stands.
“Couldn’t risk you googling the triple lift and finding out we did it last year too.” He reaches into his locker and grabs my phone from the top shelf. “Hope you can catch this.”
“Ha. No worries there,” I say as he wings it my way and I grab the device.
“Nice,” he says, and that easy smile of his is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen.
“I do my best.”
I turn to go, but before I can leave, Declan clears his throat. “You forgetting something?”
I freeze, my brain cycling through the day. What could I have forgotten? Oh, wait, this has to be another prank.
I turn back around. “To thank you for the whipped cream? It was quite tasty.”
Another lopsided grin. Another swoop of my stomach.
He shakes his head then rubs his thumb and forefinger together. “Pay up, rookie.”
Ah, right. I grab my wallet from my back pocket and fish around for a bill. My heart sinks as I come up almost empty. “I only have a ten. Can I Venmo you the rest?”
Declan cracks up so hard he has to hold his stomach. Crosby doubles over in laughter. Chance points at me, barely able to breathe.
Every eye in the locker room turns toward us. Toward me. Or it feels that way—most of the team is here.
“You do that on dates, rookie?” Chance gasps between guffaws. “Ask your dates if you can Venmo the money?”
The heavens part and angels sing. I need an opening to get out ahead of the story of my sexuality, and the closing pitcher just lobbed a slow pitch right over the plate.
I mentally square my shoulders. Not easy to brace yourself for blowback without coming off either defensive or challenging.
“Sometimes when I go on a date, he pays for me.” I shrug like my heart isn’t hammering. “But sometimes I pay for him, depending on my mood.”
There’s a heavy pause in the locker room. I glimpse a few furrowed brows on the guys, some blinks of adjustment, visible gulps.
Chance just grins at me like we planned this. I didn’t, but that was a suspiciously perfect setup. But in a good way, I think.
The silence only lasts a few seconds, and it feels damn good when Crosby breaks it. He arches a brow, his tone smooth as butter. “So, Grant, what you’re saying is you’re quite a catch with the dudes?”
I don’t look at Declan. I don’t even risk it.
But the rest of the Cougars have their eyes on me as I answer Crosby with a casual shrug and a sly smile. “That’s what I hear.”
“Just one thing, Catch,” Chance says, holding up a hand. The nickname belies his overly serious expression.
“What’s that?”
“You like burgers?”
“Course I do.”
“Excellent.” He sweeps his hand to indicate all the guys in the locker room. “We’re going out to grab some grub. And you’re gonna pick up the tab. I’m sure that’ll be a change for you, but those are the clubhouse rules. Rookies pay.”
He finishes with a grin that I match, glad this moment is behind me and I can get on with playing the sport I love.
Forward momentum, it is nice to see you.
“I’m good with that,” I tell Chance.
Very, very good with that.
We go to a nearby burger joint, order, then shoot the breeze about video games and cool tunes. We steer away from talk of baseball, which makes a nice break after a long day of training.
Afterward, we head for the team hotel, the guys dispersing to their rooms, the pool, or the bar. I hang back with Chance and Declan as Crosby looks around the lobby in satisfaction, whistling in admiration as he gets a look at the name above the doors.