Page 16 of Bad Call

“Nice. Jairo Garcia, what position do you play?”

“Shortstop.”

“What are you majoring in?” the reporter asked.

“Business management.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Do you know that red one with the bubblegum flavors in it? I think they call it superhero,” he laughed.

I started to fast forward through the interview, not really caring what kind of ice cream they were into until a familiar face caught my attention and made me stop scrolling. That rugged-cut face, clean-shaven, and the bluest eyes. A face I couldn’t get off my mind, no matter how much I tried.

Well, well, well, what do we have here?

“Coach, you’re an alumnus of this school, aren’t you?”

“I sure am. Go Muskrats.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Rum raisin.”

“Thanks, Coach. Good luck tonight.”

Rum Raisin, good to know.

I saved the account to my favorites list. Hopefully, there will be more videos to come. Switching off the TV, I laid my phone down and turned on my side, pulling the covers up to my neck. As I drifted off to sleep, thoughts of food filled my dreams. Ripe blueberries the color of his eyes, pale peaches that reminded me of his juicy lips, plump, sweet raisins, and smooth ice cream flavored with vanilla and rum.

Casey Collins was a delicious snack that I wanted to feast on, like an endless buffet.

Just before I got to the good part, the partwhere the flavors burst over my tongue, creating an overwhelming rush of pleasure throughout my body akin to orgasm, my phone beeped with an incoming message. I startled, shaking awake, and grabbed for it.

Caller Unknown:

I didn’t realize you had such a hard-on for pickles. Your attitude makes me think you have one shoved up your ass, since, you know, they’re sour, like you.

Who in the fuck would send me a message like that? I don’t have a hard-on for pickles, nor do I have one shoved up my ass! Why would…

Casey?

It had to be him. Had to be. Nobody else hated me enough to harass me by text past midnight. Actually, I was sure that wasn’t true. Plenty of people hated me enough to do that, but they probably didn’t have my number. How did he?

Collins? How did you get my number?

Unknown Caller:

Does this mean you’re not denying you have a pickle up your ass?

Fucking jackass.

We’re putting a pin in that for now. Who is this? How did you get my number?

Unknown Caller:

I should make you sweat a little longer. How many people do you discuss shoving things up your ass with? Christ! I’m not even a little bit surprised. You gave me your number. Don’t you remember? You really are senile, just like I told you on the field.

When in the hell did I give him my number?Besides, when we met.

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