Page 70 of Stolen Bases

“Thanks, Captain.” I join him at field level along the fence. It feels good to have a day off from pitching and DH for Patterson—one of the other five starting pitchers on the Evaders—tonight.

“Dude, quit it with that shit.” Lance rests on his elbows, shaking his head.

I love messing with him. Taylor comes from a long line of military men, and he’s the first in his family to pass on the opportunity to attend a military college to attend a division-one university to play baseball instead. His dad was far from pleased.

I chuckle, joining him at the fence. “Never.”

For real. How can I resist? Lance is Captain America in the flesh. Dark blond hair, blue eyes, clean-cut hair, and a jaw as smooth as a baby’s butt.

“Dick,” he mumbles under his breath.

We watch as Blake Jensen, our third baseman, makes a clean hit up the middle. The bases are loaded as our center fielder, Cisco Martinez, takes the plate.

“Are you coming out with us tonight?” Lance asks as the glove pops with a strike.

“Come on, Cisco,” I shout before answering Taylor. “Nah, man. I’m good. I have some shit I need to take care of.”

“Dude, you haven’t come out once since we started.”

I’ve been out, just not to the clubs with my usual crew. Instead, I’ve opted to have dinner with Martinez, Erikson, and Fletcher—also known as “the married guys”. They haven’t asked why I’ve been tagging along to dinner with them, but they suspect I have a girl back home.

“You know how it goes,” I play it off. It looks like I have to thank the married guys for keeping my dinners with them hush-hush.

“Still up at five every morning?”

Lance knows I am, but I humor him anyway.

“Dude, you know I can’t break tradition. You should join me for a run one of these mornings.”

I already know his answer when he breaks into a laugh.

“Never. So, how’s bunking with Romero been?”

“Fine. We keep to ourselves. I’m usually asleep before he gets back for curfew. Why?”

“Just asking. He’s been tight-lipped the last few weeks. Less douchey. Don’t hate him as much.”

To my utter surprise, Nico has been quiet lately. Too quiet. But I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I glance down the line to see him leaning on the fence, talking with rookie pitcher, Serrano. The two have gotten close. It’s good for them to build rapport with one another. I don’t begrudge either of them for it, but I sure as fuck miss Thompson.

“That’s good. He should get on with everyone. I don’t care if he hates me. I want to win it all this season.”

“Me too, bro. That might shut my pops up once and for all.” He rubs the back of his neck.

I feel bad for my buddy. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my dad in my corner cheering me on.

“That’s the dream, right?”

He nods as Cisco whacks the ball over the third base line for a single and another run scored.

“Fuck yeah!” Taylor and I scream at Martinez, who does his little dance on first in celebration. The entire team mimics him.

Aaron Fletcher, our left fielder, steps into the box, and I’m hopeful he can keep his hit streak going tonight. He does, and we end up winning the game ten-two, and another win under our belt.

Our team is looking good and dangerous as we end pre-season.

Towel around my waist, I walk through the locker room, drying my hair. The guys are buzzing tonight after our win. I can hear them planning a night at some new club called Hotlanta while I wipe my wet hair and strut to my designated cubby.

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