Page 97 of Double Play

She points to the other couple. “Arizona, Layton, this is my mother, Darian Lawrence Knight, and my stepfather, Jackson Knight.”

Darian excitedly holds out her hand for me to shake. “I’m thrilled to finally meet you, Arizona. It’s so exciting towatch you ladies play. You’re incredible. I played a bit in college myself.”

Oh right. Reagan once mentioned that her mother played in college. “Thank you so much. Your daughter has done such a great job with the team.”

She nods. “I’m excited that she brought you and the team to Philly. Good luck to you guys in the playoffs. Bring home the ship.”

I let out a laugh. “We’ll try.”

Reagan winks. “Do more than try.”

Just then, a man takes the podium and taps the microphone. “Good evening, everyone. I’m Daniel Nash, the editor-in-chief ofSports Illustrated. Thank you for being here tonight and thank you to all the participating athletes. We’re thrilled with how the issue turned out. It’s important to us to promote body positivity and to depict healthy, well-fed, well-cared for bodies. We’ll show all the beautiful interior photos before revealing this year’s cover couple. The decision was unanimous among the editorial staff.”

The lights dim and the song, “Scars to Your Beautiful” by Alessia Cara begins to play. A huge screen illuminates and the photos begin to rotate, one at a time. The pictures of the other couples are gorgeous. Endless photos of some of the most famous athletes in the world and their partners.

Finally, they get to ours. We immediately smile at what we see. It’s a great photo, where we’re close but facing away from each other, each holding a bat with badass looks on our faces. Our jerseys are open, and our bodies are on full display. Admittedly, we look strong, athletic, and muscular. It’s a nice photo and perfect for a body image issue.

Our whole crew starts hooting and hollering. They rush over to us with hugs and adulation.

Layton squeezes my hand. “I think I need a poster of that above my bed.”

I giggle. “Me too.”

The screen then scrolls to the cover, with the picture temporarily blurred. It gradually unblurs until it’s revealed. There’s a collective gasp in the crowd, though it may have been me. Nope, it was every single person here.

We’re on the cover, but this photo is different from the interior photos.Muchdifferent. Layton has me pinned to a scoreboard. It’s made to appear as though we’re in the outfield. My legs, which have catcher’s gear on them, are wrapped around his waist. He’s got my hands restrained above my head with one hand and his face buried in my neck. My face is tilted up with my eyes closed and my lips parted in ecstasy. It looks like I’m mid-orgasm. Layton’s leg and arm muscles are on full display. The photo is taken at an angle that, with my jersey wide open, you can see both my lace-bra-covered breasts as well as my stomach and upper thigh muscles. The subtitle readsThe Steamy Streets of Philadelphia.

Ripley sucks in a breath. “Holy shit. I think I just came from that picture.”

Layton’s whispers, “Scratch what I just said,thatone is going above my bed. Hell, I might wallpaper my entire bedroom in it. Maybe the whole penthouse.”

I hear Quincy mumble in Layton’s ear, “It’s a good thing I know about you two, because I’d certainly know now.”

Layton mumbles back, “We weren’t even together yet when it was taken.”

Kam throws her arm around me. “Well…that’s one for the grandkids.” She smiles. “You’re a fucking queen. I worship at the altar of Arizona Abbott.”

Reagan rubs my arm. “Congratulations. Being on the cover is a very big deal. You two did it. I had a feeling you would. Youboth have a certain quality that I knew would grab their attention. And now both the Cougars and Anacondas will reap the benefits. The upcoming playoff games for both teams are already completely sold out.”

I simply nod. I can’t take my eyes off the cover. Neither can Layton.

The other couples featured in the magazine all walk over to congratulate us. I don’t think any of it has completely registered. The fact that we’re on the cover of the number one sports magazine in the world,orthe type of photo it is.

As we’re shaking hands, Layton leans over and whispers, “Do you realize that you’re on the cover ofSports Illustratedwith my come rubbed all over your body? People may see your muscular abs, but all I see is them covered in me, marking you as mine. Our dirty little secret will now live on for eternity.”

I swallow hard as I get wobbly on my feet. He has to steady me so I don’t fall over. He does so with a big grin on his face. He winks. “Don’t worry, even though you can’t see my stomach, I know your come was on me too.”

All of a sudden, everything starts spinning. I grab his arm, needing it for support. “Layton, I need some air.”

His smile fades into a look of worry. He wraps his arms around my waist. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t know who we’re talking to, but he says, “Excuse us for a minute. We’re a little overwhelmed.”

He immediately escorts me to an empty hallway and opens a door. We hear moans and see Reagan’s stepfather with his hand up her mother’s dress. Their lips are locked and he’s really going to town on her.

Layton quickly closes the door, and we sprint around the corner. We turn and stare at each other, wide-eyed at what we just witnessed, but then we start hysterically laughing.

I have to hold my stomach. “Oh my god. I can’t believe we just saw that.”

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