Page 58 of Choke Up

Elliot's girlfriend cheers for Gabe in the stands, and the girl sitting next to her claps and cheers alongside her. The two of them lower their heads together to giggle about something, and I glare daggers at them. Krysta and Ashleigh get along really well, so that gives her a reason to be around all the time. It's bad enough that Gabe and I have barely been able to catch any quiet, stolen moments while Ashleigh is here, but we can't even get a moment alone. You'd think Elliot and his girlfriend would want to go on some private dates together or something, but they insist on inviting Gabe and Krysta everywhere with them. The four of them meet up for lunch, Krysta and Ashleigh come to watch every practice, and they hang out every evening. I'm always invited, because Ashleigh is a sweetheart and wants to make everyone happy. She doesn't know that her matchmaking attempts are tearing my heart out.

Krysta is gorgeous. Tall with long, tan, shapely legs. She has shiny strawberry blonde hair and blindingly white teeth. I hate her, and I hate how obvious it is that I hate her. Every time she smiles at me and tries to include me in a conversation, I'm rude as fuck to her and that's not the kind of person I want to be. I only hate her because she's perfect for him. She's hot and at least pretends to be interested in baseball well enough to hold a conversation. He can take her places, hold her hand in public, fuck her without being afraid to do something wrong. I overheard her tell Ashleigh that she's been trying to get Gabe's attention since being lab partners last semester. She's shooting her shot, and I can't even blame her.

The pressure is getting to me, and it’s turning me into a jealous, clingy mess.

I'm starting to rethink my refusal to go to the double date so I didn't have to look at them. I'd already agreed to go to a club with my friends, though, and I doubt I could get any of them to go with me. Antoni is the only one that knows about Gabe, and he doesn't exactly approve. I seriously doubt I could convince him to skip an actual fun night out to glare daggers at some pretty girl making eyes at my man. Especially not on my birthday.

Tripp speaks and pulls my attention back to him. "How'd you do on Jong's pop quiz this morning?"

I give Tripp a pained smile and shrug. "Not great, but could have been worse. You?"

"I bombed it," he says with a grimace, which makes me laugh. Tripp's wide grin covers his face, his eyes twinkling, genuinely pleased that I find him amusing.

There's a commotion behind us, and I turn back around to face the game. Half the crowd is standing, the rest wide eyed and worried as the other team's catcher scrambles back, throwing himself on the ground, mitt outstretched. The ball lands in his mitt, and the spectators let out a collective groan.

Tripp curses under his breath. "Rodgers tipped it." He pats my shoulder as he moves around me to head back to the dugout, where the rest of the team is cursing and griping. Coach is trying to pull their focus, letting them know the game isn't over yet.

During the commotion of both teams jogging into their respective dugouts to get ready for the next inning, I feel his glare. I chance a look over my shoulder as I pick up some discarded bats and helmets, but he looks away from me, swiping a hand through his hair. Something in the stands gets his attention, and I follow his gaze to where the pretty girl is standing near the fence, beckoning him over.

I'm probably not inconspicuous at all as I line up bats and helmets, staying within hearing distance. They're speaking low, but I can hear her apologizing for distracting him. Forgetting to pretend I'm not listening, my head snaps their way. He's leaning against the fence, one hand gripped in the chain link. From anyone else's perspective, it looks like he's into her. Even knowing all his tells, like the tense set of his shoulders, or the polite but tight smile he gives her, it bothers me. He cocks his head, unsure what distraction she's referring to. She says something about wanting to get a closer look. He nods absentmindedly, and she looks so pleased about it I feel sick.

Why would it please her that her distraction could have cost Gabe a major play? How fucked up and conceited is that? Also…Is that what happened?

Her hand touches his knuckles where they're gripping the chain link, and I'm pretty sure I might actually puke. I told him I was cool with sneaking around and hiding this, but not to this extent.

I quietly let Coach know I'm not feeling well on my way through the dugout and get far away from the field before Gabe notices me missing. The assistants can manage the equipment for one afternoon. I need to get some distance before I do something stupid, like cry.

CHAPTER 24

GABE

I hate it here already. I don't know how I'm expected to find Ellis in a sea of people this thick. It's loud, and sweaty, and some idiot wearing sequined booty shorts blew glitter in my face the moment I walked in. He escaped before I could rip his fucking wings off.

There's a rumble of laughter behind me, and I shoot a narrow-eyed glare at the bouncer. I'm pretty sure he didn't find my fake ID believable, but I'm bigger than him and stood my ground. He mentioned he'd be keeping an eye on me, but now he's turning around back toward the door, broad shoulders shaking.

I'm not planning on drinking, but I didn't want to have to deal with the hand stamp that says "underaged hottie" around the club logo in permanent ink. Those stamps are notoriously hard to scrub off, and I was hoping to avoid any proof or questions about my attendance. I really don't want to be here, but the picture Antoni sent made me want to break something.

The dinner was awkward enough. The cake that Ashleigh had delivered to the stupidly expensive restaurant had both Ellis and Elliot's name on it. She didn't want to leave him out in case he decided to come. It was obvious that his absence bothered Elliot, but if there's one thing his girlfriend is good at, it's distracting everyone with her incessant chatter. She has a way of making sure everyone's included, and I always really liked that about her. Some of Elliot's girlfriends in the past were not as appreciative of his close relationship with me or his brother. Ashleigh distracted Elliot by making a huge deal out of what a ‘cute couple’ Krysta and I make. Ugh.

She's a nice girl, and maybe once upon a time her long legs and perky tits would have done it for me. But not only is she trying too hard, I'm just not interested. Plus, she's pushing away the person I actually am interested in, and it's not settling well in my stomach.

I'm pretty sure she's why he left today. Something felt off, and my subconscious noticed the moment his presence was gone. I'd spent the entire game studiously looking away from him, trying my damndest to ignore the way Tripp ogles him or the way Ellis smiles when he talks to him. It was distracting, and I played like shit because of it. Krysta thinks her presence against the fence distracted me from my swing, resulting in us losing our chance at pulling ahead. I had to hold myself back from laughing in her face. Never mind how much it annoys me that she could be that self-absorbed, I don't even notice anything she says or does. She's invisible to me, just like she was when we'd apparently had a class together. I only have eyes for him.

I'd been at bat, perfectly focused on the posture of the pitcher, accurately anticipating a fast inside curveball, meant to make me swing high. He'd already succeeded in getting me to swing and miss earlier in the game, though it was mostly due to my preoccupation with a certain bat boy who has all but refused to talk to me all week. But I got my shit together, focused, lined it up perfectly, ready to send that ball over the back wall and win us that game. It was one of those moments where the ball seems to fly through the air in slow motion, basically handed to me on a silver platter. I choked up on my bat, and the moment the ball left the pitcher's hand, I heard the catcher hiss out a curse. He knew I was about to fuck up that ball in the best way possible. We were keeping our damn winning streak for as long as I had anything to do about it.

But then a laugh cut through my laser focus. The only laugh, the only person, that could get my attention in any situation, or ever pull my focus from the only thing I've ever been good at.

Tripp made Ellis laugh.

My grip on the bat slipped. I pulled back at the very last second, over-correcting and clipping the ball. It flew up into the air, everyone around me gasping and watching the ball. But I only had eyes for Ellis. I watched as his smile faltered, realization cutting through their moment, and they turned to pay attention. I didn't move from my spot on the plate as the catcher dove backward to catch my foul. The ump called the out, but I was focused on Tripp's hand on Ellis' shoulder.

Krysta had to shout my name to get my attention. Our conversation was brief, and I'm not sure I absorbed much of anything she said, thinking instead of how to explain standing there. Until an assistant coach came over with my catcher's gear instead of Ellis. Why didn't I just ignore her? I expect him to understand I need a beard, and then watch as I lead on a girl that clearly is into me, yet I expect him to tell off an admittedly nice guy that wants to openly flirt with him.

Yeah, I know, I'm an asshole. He lets me know every night when I slip into bed next to him. But he doesn't send me away. He lets me stay, lets me pull him into my body and inhale his sweet smell. Lets me kiss his neck even when he turns his face away. And I'm thankful for it, because as pathetic as it is, I can't sleep without him anymore.

I texted him as soon as I got back to the dugout, but he didn't answer. Then I got Elliot to text him when we got home to get ready for dinner and he wasn't there. I left a pleading voicemail when I noticed he'd opened my birthday gift. Pieces of the shitty wrapping job were in tatters, the box empty on the bed. I checked his bedside table and underwear drawer, but only found a few of the things that were in the box. He either knew I'd look and figure out what was missing, or he was wearing part of his gift. Without me.

It distracted me all through dinner. I don't know how many times I texted him. Until Antoni sent me a picture of Ellis.

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