Page 34 of Play the Field

But as my Mercedes rolled up to the softball field on Monday morning, I wished I could go back to Sunday. I’d been tortured by my kiss with Cleo since the farmer’s market on Saturday, feeling Cleo’s lips on mine every time I closed my eyes.

When I got out of my car, I realized they hadn’t arrived yet. I made a point to be early this week, not wanting to risk pissing them off again.

So I grabbed my bag and headed over to the field where I stretched and warmed up. By the time Cleo’s Corolla was driving into the lot, I was ready to roll.

Watching them walk over to the field, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at their body. Their hips swayed with each step, easy to see in the skin-tight leggings that Cleo wore to our practices.

A cold wind blew against my face, cooling off the blush rising in my cheeks. As they got closer, Cleo avoided meeting my gaze.

It surprised me that they might be a little embarrassed about kissing me. And to be fair, I was surprised that they made the first move. I assumed if anything was ever going to happenbetween us, I would make a fool of myself by trying to make a move on them just to get rejected.

“Hey.” I waved.

“Hi. Ready?” Cleo swallowed hard as they walked past me and into the dugout. Tossing their stuff down, Cleo quickly changed into their cleats.

Unsure how to handle myself, I clapped my hands together. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

Their blue eyes flicked up to mine, a raging glare on their face. “Fine, thanks.”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “You don’t have to be an ass, ya know? If you didn’t want to kiss me, you can just say it was a mistake and we can move on.”

Without another word, Cleo stood up and walked out onto the field. With each step, they tossed the ball from their right hand into the gloved left hand. A loudthudresounded across the grass with each throw.

“Get your bat.” They called back to me.

Groaning, I slid the metal rod from my bag and walked out to the field.They do not need to be this rude.

“What are we working on, Coach Cleo?”

Cleo looked down at their feet on the pitcher’s mound, rubbing their cleats into the sand. “If your pitching form is that rough, your batting is definitely worse. And we can’t have you relying on a pinch hitter to get back into the league.”

It was a fair point. As much as I’d been a star, I had a lot left to prove. I needed to bring as much value as possible to my team to have any hopes of coming back.

Stepping up to home plate, I squared my feet with the white, irregular pentagon. It was smudged with dirt and skid marks from the rec league playing over the weekend.

“Some animal didn’t even bother to clean up the plate.” I shook my head.

Cleo scoffed. “You’re so fucking spoiled.” As they got into position on the mound, Cleo tried not to smile at my complaint. We used to play together in my backyard, using old pieces of gutters as bases. This was a fair-cry from “out of order”.

Glad I could make them smile, I tried to calm my own as I lifted the bat to my ear.

“Lift your elbow,” Cleo called from across the field.

Doing as I was told, I pulled my elbow higher, a light pull shooting to my shoulder. I winced at the feeling. Even if I knew I wasn’t about to get hurt, my brain was convinced that the samepopit heard on the field two years ago would happen again.

It was a mental fight to get that voice to quiet.

Trying to steady my breathing, I took in a deep breath through my nose as Cleo wound up the neon yellow softball. It came hurtling toward me as it left their hand. I kept my eye on it as it got closer, trusting my eye to start my swing at the right time.

Pivoting on my back foot, my arms stretched out as my back extended. I heard the metalclinkas it made a light contact with the spinning leather. Instead of flying toward Cleo and into the outfield, the ball spun out over my head and landed in the grass behind home plate.

“Fuck.” I groaned.

Cleo shook their head. “Again.”

We kept on like that for a while. Cleo wasn’t ready to let me off the field until I was hitting the vast majority of the balls.

When we finally came off the field, we both changed our shoes in the dugout. After a moment, Cleo shrugged. “I could tellthat you were trying to be more present. Your form was much better.”

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