Page 77 of Easy Out

“No, but I don’t want to cramp his style.” Sydney nods in understanding.

“Well, if you do come to another practice, you don’t have to come alone.” Syd’s eyes drift to the dugout where Koa, Hart, and Wyatt are exiting. “I’m going to get out of here. Are you good getting a ride with Hart?”

I nod and hug her goodbye. Sydney is out of sight just in time. She claims she's okay being his friend but it's obvious she's avoiding him when she can.

“Where is she off to?” Koa snaps. Hart growls at him. “Sorry man.” Hart nods at me. “Sorry Lauren,” he says properly scolded for speaking to me in a harsh tone. My heart does a little flutter.

“Syd had to take care of something, but you should come over for dinner.” Syd is going to kill me. “Wyatt, you can come too if you want.” Wyatt lifts his eyes off his phone for a moment to look at me and then Hart.

“Maybe next time, Lo. If you want to send food home with Hart, I won’t be mad at ya for it,” he tells me with a smile.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m going to give Lauren a tour. See you guys later.” They say their goodbyes. Koa never confirmed if he was going to come over and eat with us.

I send Sydney a warning text just in case. She replies with a gif of an actress slicing her finger across the base of her neck and mouthing ‘you’re dead to me.’ I text back, telling her how much I love her too.

Hart drops the large bag that’s been hanging off his shoulder to the ground. “Come here, cariño.”

I walk to the barrier wall where Hart is holding his arms out toward me. Bending down I put a hand on each one of his shoulders. He hooks his hands under my breasts. His thumb grazes over the sensitive flesh sending shivers through me. “Jump.”

I do, and he easily flings me over the side. Hart is sweaty and warm from practice, but it doesn’t bother me. I love the way he smells. A mix of his deodorant or body wash, the outside air, and him.

I cling to him and hide my face in the crook of his neck. His grip slides to my butt, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Did you enjoy yourself, brujita?” I pretend to think about my answer. His hands flex in the pockets of my jean shorts.

“Very much.” Hart grins and the sight makes my insides riot. I take his hat off his head, smooth down his hair, and then flip the cap backward. Grabbing his face, I say, “I see why everyone wants you so badly.” I claim his lips with mine before giving him a chance to decipher what I’m really saying. I want you too. Hart growls against my mouth before ending the kiss when a couple of his teammates pass by us.

My legs fall from his waist, and I glide down his body feeling every hard inch of him. Hart rolls his lips and grinds his molars when I push against him, making me laugh. “I don’t think this is very funny.” He looms over me and nips at my ear. “Just being near you makes me lose my mind.” Hart mumbles something in Spanish I can’t quite figure out, but I think I heard a curse word or two.

Hart reluctantly puts some distance between us but keeps me cradled under his arm. He leaves his gear on the field and leads us toward the dugout. “Let me show you around,” he says before readjusting himself in his pants. The motion has me staring and biting down on my bottom lip. Hart growls and tugs on my ponytail. “Brujita, behave.”

It’s physically impossible for me to be good around him anymore. When I was a little girl, my mom warned me about being obsessed or infatuated with a man.

My father, whoever he is, hurt her. She loved him and he left her. He didn’t love her enough to stay. He didn’t love me enough either.

This is another reason I’ve avoided romantic relationships through high school and even college. Her words have always floated around in the recesses of my mind.

My mom never dated after my father left. I don’t know if she was afraid to or if she was foolishly holding out hope that he would change his mind and come back.

There is nothing I can do about it now. I can’t rewrite the past, but I can try to appreciate the present. It doesn’t stop me from wondering what my mom would say about Hart.

Would she encourage me to go for it?

Or would she warn me to slow down?

Being in the dugout brings a new perspective to the game Hart loves so much. You can see the entire field from here. There is a distinct smell of leather and fresh cut grass mixed with earthy dirt. It reminds me of hot summer days playing on the playground when I was little.

Hart shows me where he usually sits during the game and where he keeps his gear. Then he makes his way back to the field and picks up his bag. “I want to show you inside.” He bobs his head toward their training facility.

“Are you sure I can go in here?” I ask as we walk across the street. Hart makes a pit stop at his car to drop off his bag.

He doesn’t answer me. His hand slips into mine, weaving our fingers together. It isn’t the first time we’ve held hands, but it feels different this time. Sometimes I think he holds my hand so I don’t get lost. Today it feels like a claiming. As if to tell everyone we pass by that I’m his girl.

We enter the facility through the rear doors closest to the stadium. The building is massive. Hart shows me where they have indoor batting practice, their weight room, a meeting room, and even a lounge area complete with air hockey and foosball.

“Spoiled much?” I tease. His mouth ticks up in a soft smile while holding open the door to a locker room unlike any I’ve ever seen before. I imagined my high school gym locker room. Dented metal lockers and all.

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