Page 29 of Totally Opposed

He proceeds to send me a link to an article about how in the old days people would do this to lure a horse away. Apparently, they never took the law out.

RYAN: Why do you even know this?

TEDDY: Granny and I go to Trivia every Thursday night down the pub. You’d be surprised what you remember. So, what crime did you commit?

RYAN: Break and enter. The old guy, Don, across the way wasn’t answering, and the cat was meowing at me nonstop, so I thought maybe he was hurt, or sick.

TEDDY: Because the cat was meowing? You know cats do that, right?

RYAN: I get how stupid it is now, but he’s Alan’s Gramps.

TEDDY: How are things with Alan? Is the Funky Monkey finally getting his coconuts cracked?

RYAN: Oh look at the time, gotta get to practice. Chat soon.

***

I hit the pool and swim a few laps, trying to shake off the fear my body is still holding onto after this morning. I was totally freaking out about Don for a minute, but the old coot was just in the fucking bathroom. Stupid cat. I rub my shoulder as I head out onto the field for the meet and greet with fans.

“I thought you were all better?” Kyle says when he spots me.

Shit. I feel okay. It’s a little tender, but what if he thinks it’s something more? He’ll bench me, that’s what he’ll do, and then we’ll have zero chance of beating the OG’s. It’s not that the team isn’t great without me. They are. But I’m the fastest pitcher we have, and my fastball was the only thing that scored us any points the last time we were up against them. Tonight, I’m taking the win, and after I do, I’ll be collecting on that celebration Alan promised me.

I swing my arm around, trying to prove it’s totally fine and I wasn’t just rubbing the painful spot where it connected with Gramps’s door.

“Ahh, yeah, I was good. I am good.” Shit, this isn’t going well. “I just shoved a door a little too hard, so it’s a bit…you know, stiff.”

He frowns, like he’s trying to decide if he believes me or not.

“You shoved a door?”

“Okay, I busted through a door, but I’m fine, really.”

“I’ll forget how you maybe hurt yourself, but not that you did. Come on, meet and greets can wait. I have to clear you or you won’t be pitching anything tonight.”

Double fuck. I turn on my heel and follow Kye back towards the locker rooms. He puts me through the paces and after about ten minutes of “do this”, “now that”, “stretch this way”, and “does this hurt?” he clears me to play.

“Cheers,” I call, jogging back out to the field. Now it’s time to win me some one-on-one Alan time.

The crowds at Savannah are what helped propel this game into the incredible league it is now, so we have a few extra games scheduled here this season, which to me, seems only fair. Game one was massive, the whole first weekend was, with celebrity visits and fireworks and flame shows. The second week was smaller, but still huge compared to what we were used to from last season. Now it’s only a few days and we’ll fly out to our first destination, and then it’s full steam ahead across America.

The crowd takes their seats, and I grab my costume for our opening number Dennis has lined up. The OG’s are already on the field, their welcome number went first, and as I stride out onto the field to join the others at our people fish tank and the music starts up, they find themselves a partner and start waltzing along to the music while Alan and I pretend to be Romeo and Juliet.

It’s hard not to blush, gazing at him through the pretend water. Dennis chose us because of our on-camera chemistry, but how long until they see it’s not just on screen?

We meet at the edge, do our dance number, and then while some of the OG team members fan out, the rest head to the dug out or into the first rows of seats to watch. Their first hitter steps into the box right on queue. Alan spins me, and then I pull the ball from my pocket and pitch it fast down the line. It lands square in the catcher’s mitt.

“Woo hoo,” Alan cheers, and lifts and spins me around by the waist. I was stoked when Dennis changed the skit to be the real first pitch to the OG team, but Alan was supposed to be already headed to the stands with the rest of his team, not cheering me on. I guess, to anyone else, it would look like it was all part of the act. But there is nothing fake about the way Alan makes me feel. He leans in and whispers.

“Keep that up and you’ll get that private celebration I promised.”

***

The rest of the game is kind of a blur. I pitched a new personal record, one hundred and three miles per hour before I was swapped out for a break, one of the best things about Banana Ball for a pitcher is that our games have a two-hour timer on them, so I get way more game time than I would if I was playing MLB. John, Dave, and Duckie have been on fire, too, catching outs and sending the ball right onto the next glove, and when the last out is called and we’ve secured the points for the win, the whole team rushes the field including Animal Control who was sitting in the stands. We did it.

I’m getting dressed when my phone chimes, and I grab it to check the message.

ALAN: Are you ready to celebrate?

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