Page 8 of Playing with My Heart

“There’s no pressure,” I shot back. “Just don’t let us down, or we’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“Great.” Parker snorted a laugh.

I clapped him on the back. “Seriously, just get out there and have fun and if you decide this isn’t something you want to do, it’s fine. But maybe it’ll help you make even more friends here.”

“Okay,” he said, his smile genuine.

If Parker was anything like me, he was going to relish the chance to be part of a team again, back out on the field, playinga game that was in our blood. “Alright, everyone! Let’s get this show on the road,” I called out, rallying the troops.

And as we dispersed to take our positions, I watched Parker jog to shortstop, his movements fluid and assured. This was going to be fun, I thought, a surge of something warm and bright expanding in my chest—something like hope, like possibility.

“Play ball!” someone shouted, and the game began.

The crack of the bat echoed across the field, sending the softball soaring into the early evening sky. With a grace that belied his power, Parker leapt, snagging the ball mid-flight, and landing with the finesse of a cat. Cheers erupted from our makeshift bleachers as I joined in, unable to keep the pride out of my voice.

“Damn, Reyes!” I hollered, throwing my glove into the air in mock exasperation. “You trying to show us all up on your first day?”

He sent me a grin, warm and unassuming, as he tossed the ball back to the pitcher’s mound. Watching him jog back to his position, I couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved under the fabric of his t-shirt, the easy confidence in his stride. It was sexy as hell without even a hint of effort, and my body responded with an involuntary pull of attraction.

“Focus, Brooks,” I muttered to myself, adjusting my cap to shield my eyes from the setting sun—and from the view. Parker was a friend, a colleague, and yeah, he had a boyfriend waiting for him somewhere in this big city.

“Hey, boss man! You’re up!” Kara called out, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Right,” I said, gripping the bat and stepping up to the plate. I took a swing, connecting solidly, and sprinted around the bases, the laughter and cheers from my team filling the air. It wasn’t just about the game; it was the camaraderie, the shared moments that turned colleagues into friends.

“Nice hit, Travis!” Parker cheered as I rounded third, his gray eyes alight with genuine enthusiasm.

“Thanks!” I panted, sprinting toward home plate with a grin.

As practice wound down, with the last streaks of pink and orange fading from the sky, everyone gathered their gear, buzzing with the kind of satisfaction that only comes after a good game.

“Hey, why don’t we grab some drinks to celebrate?” I suggested, wiping sweat from my brow. “There’s this great spot not far from here.” Everyone nodded their agreement. Everyone but Parker. He hesitated, shifting his weight.

“I should really get back to unpacking...” His voice trailed off, and I could sense the reluctance mingling with a desire to stay.

“Come on,” I coaxed, hoping my smile was convincing enough. “The boxes will be there tomorrow, but tonight? It’s about making memories with your new team. What do you say?”

For a moment, he wavered, his eyes reflecting the internal debate. Then, like the clouds parting after a storm, his face brightened with a resolved smile.

“Alright, you’ve twisted my arm,” he conceded, and I felt a flutter of victory. “Drinks it is.”

“Awesome,” I replied, clapping him on the shoulder. We walked off the field together, shaking our heads as we talked about some of the more memorable plays.

“Thanks for inviting me today,” Parker said, sincerity lacing his words as we approached my car. “It feels good to be part of a team again.”

“Anytime, Parker,” I said, glancing over at him. “And just so you know, you’re a natural. The team’s lucky to have you.”

“Guess I’ll have to prove I’m more than just a one-hit wonder,” he joked, and I laughed, feeling the ease between us grow.

“Something tells me that won’t be hard for you to do.” I started the engine, ready to lead the caravan to our post-game celebration, a warm glow settling in my chest.

“Let’s go then,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. “Lead the way, Captain.”

The neon sign of “Murphy’s Bar” glowed like a beacon as we approached, the din of chatter and clinking glasses spilling out into the cooling evening air. I pushed open the heavy door, holding it for Parker and the rest of our teammates.

“First round is on me,” I declared, guiding us toward the cluster of high-tops near the bar. The team cheered in response.

“Generous!” Parker chuckled, sliding onto a stool with an ease that belied his newness to the group. His gray eyes sparkled under the bar’s dim lights, casting him in a glow that was all too flattering. Damn if he didn’t look sexy.

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