Page 74 of Easy Out

“Says the virgin.”

“Better a virgin than a backroom romp with pencil dick,” I throw back at her. Syd takes the binoculars from me.

“That is definitely his real dick.”

“As opposed to a rubber one he stuffs in his pants? He is wearing black pants. You can’t really see anything. And he has on a cup.” I gesture toward the field with my arm.

“How do you know that?”

“How do you know he isn’t? Are you like a CSI of penises all of a sudden?”

“Brujita,” Hart growls. Suddenly appearing next to the entrance of the dugout. I practically jump out of my seat. My heart is beating so fast.

“Damn it, Hart! You didn’t have to scare us like that,” Syd sneers and goes back to her guy watching. She is going to make this a new hobby. Next week she will have a notebook to keep track of all her rare sightings.

Hart grabs the rail with one hand and hurdles himself over the barrier wall. He’s in a sleeveless practice T-shirt that shows off his obliques and baseball pants. His baseball cap sits low over his brow. The holy trinity.

Some may argue that sweatpants reign supreme. I would agree that universally sweatpants, grey in particular, look good on all shapes and, ahem, sizes.

But I’ve seen Hart in both, and nothing beats the view in front of me right now. You can fight me all you want. I will die on this mountain.

“James,” I whisper back at him. His eyes shutter closed, and he bites down on his lower lip. “You are going to get yourself in trouble. You better go practice.” He flips his hat around. The move is so effortless you would think he practices it daily in the mirror. Bending over my seat, he boxes me in with tattooed forearms.

“I’m already in trouble, brujita." His eyes do a slow stroll down my body, then whip to Sydney and her binoculars briefly. “Behave yourselves,” he says darkly.

“Of course, I’ll behave. I’ve got to get some good material for my assignment,” I say to tease him. Instead, pain flashes in Hart’s eyes. It’s gone in a blink. I hate myself for it because I’m not here for that.

I’m here for him. I’m here because he asked me to come. I’m here because it hurts to not be in his presence. I lean forward and press my lips to his. “Go play with your bats and balls.” Sydney snickers beside me.

Hart tries to smother a smile. “Wait for me after,” he demands. Then places a lingering kiss on the top of my head before hopping back over the barrier wall.

Hart enters the dugout and appears a few minutes later with a bat in his hand. Koa and Wyatt walk out by his side. They push and shove each other goofing off.

Wyatt takes his spot on the mound, and Koa squats behind home plate. Hart swings his bat around a few times while Wyatt warms up his throwing arm by tossing the ball back and forth with Koa.

“How does he do that?” Syd asks. I follow her eyes to where she’s staring on the field. Koa is going from a squat to a half-split after every throw from Wyatt.

“Lots of practice and stretching,” I answer with a shrug. Syd makes a non-committal grunt.

Hart steps into the batter’s box, and I snag the binoculars from Sydney. “I need to have a good look for my report,” I say in response to her laughter.

Hart is the epitome of power with a bat in his hand. The muscles in his forearms flex as he adjusts his grip on the bat. His eyes are focused on Wyatt as he winds up his pitch.

Wyatt throws the ball so fast I can’t track it. Hart swings and connects the bat with the ball sending it flying to the outfield. They continue to do this over and over until another one of Hart’s teammates takes his place.

Hart moves to his spot between third and second base. I think he said he played shortstop, so I guess that’s where that position is. I have no idea. Carlos, Manny, and Hart tried to teach me basic rules and lingo yesterday, but it was a lot of information.

“I take it back. This is not as boring as I thought it would be. Did you ever go to their games in high school? Nash played, right?”

“I went to a few. I had a life of my own, you know. Nash played his freshman and sophomore year. His football coach made him quit after his sophomore season if he wanted to be the starting QB.”

“Why?”

“I guess he felt he needed to pick a sport and be the best at it to win games and get a scholarship. His coach was right because he’s here on a full ride.”

“Have you talked to him since he’s been starting? I sent him a text, but he didn’t tell me much.” Newhouse has been winning games, but no thanks to Nash. His nerves are getting the best of him, and he isn’t playing up to his potential.

“Not really. He’s too caught up in the pressure right now. He’s in his head. You can’t talk to Nash when he’s like this.”

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