Page 27 of Scoring Position

I may be a rookie—and we have several pitchers on our roster—but from my very first day playing for the Fury, Riggs and I just clicked. He took the time to get to know me on a personal level, which made me feel a lot more comfortable behind the plate. That's why I know that if there ever comes a time when I need advice regarding Lark, he'll be the one I go to. It may not be the soundest advice, but still—he’d be there for me.

We finish warming up, and I turn back toward the dugout. My eyes immediately find a familiar head of golden-blonde waves blowing gently in the warm Daytona breeze. My heart squeezes in my chest, and I lock eyes with the most beautiful girl in the world as a soft smile blooms across her face. I raise my hand in a wave, which she returns before pushing her wild hair back and almost knocking me on my ass with how fucking gorgeous she is. I notice that her hands and cupholderare empty, which just won’t do—especially since I made sure all purchases to her seat were billed to me.

I step into the dugout, walk over to the corner where I left my bag, and reach inside, discreetly lifting my phone from the side pocket just enough to pull up my texting app.

ACE:

Where are your snacks?

LARK:

Why are you texting me? You’re going to get in trouble!

ACE:

You’re in trouble. I remember telling you to get yourself some candy on your way in. You know how seriously I take your sugary treats, Sweets.

LARK:

I’m fine. I don’t need anything. Now will you please stop texting me before you get caught?

ACE:

Ok, but if you want to be a bad girl, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.

SIXTEEN

LARK

LARK:

What do you mean?

Ace, you better not embarrass me.

ACE!

“What the hell?”I say, placing my phone into the cupholder as I watch the Fury take the field. The crowd cheers loudly, yelling for their favorite players while they run across the dirt and grass. Ace looks hot as hell in his gear, and a dull throb pulses between my thighs as he adjusts his backwards hat before pulling his mask over his face. He squats down, taking a couple more practice pitches from Riggs, and my eyes home in on the firm muscles of his ass as they strain against his tight pants. I’ve never had the urge to bite into any part of a man’s body before, but fuck. What I wouldn’t give to feel that thing between my teeth. “Excuse me, Miss,” a young guy says from beside me, making me turn his way with wide eyes. I feel like a kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar, except it wasn’t acookie I was after. “This is for you.” He hands me a large plastic cup with the Fury logo printed across it.

“I didn’t order anyth—” I begin, but stop when I look inside to find it filled to the brim with gummy bears. I huff a laugh, looking back at him. “Thank you.” He nods, making his way up the stairs as I plop back into my seat, returning my eyes to where the first batter is walking toward the plate. Ace turns his head, glancing at me quickly before focusing back on his pitcher. Just as I go to reach into the cup, a furry purple hand wraps around my wrist.

“What the fuck?” I yell, much louder than I should, considering this is a family-friendly event, butJesus Christ.Scanning my way up the creature’s arm, my eyes slowly follow its length until I’m staring into what I can only describe as a nightmare on Earth. I look back to the cup in my hand, focusing on the mean black and green dragon on the team’s logo before once again sliding my eyes up to whatever the hell this thing is supposed to be. It can’t possibly be the Fury’s mascot. It’s not even the right color.

“H-hi,” I stammer, unsure of what to do next. But before I can ask, he hands me a white baseball jersey, clapping wildly as I take it from his grip. Without a word, he points to it, then to me, dramatically extending his arms one at a time as though he’s putting them into sleeves.

“Friggle wants you to wear it!” a little girl says from beside me, a wide smile stretched across her face as she looks at the mascot adoringly. “He gave you a present. You have to put it on!” She’s freaking adorable, and I’m a sucker for a kid in pigtails, so I oblige, throwing it around my back before working my arms into the sleeves.

“How do I look?” I ask her, spinning around so she can see the back.

She sucks in a surprised gasp. “An Ace Mathers jersey! He’s my favorite! He dances funny when it’s his turn to bat! Have you seen it?” She giggles, her tongue poking through the space where her baby tooth used to be as she does.

I smile. “I haven’t seen it yet, but he sounds like a lot of fun!”

“He is!” she replies, turning to the mascot. “Friggle, can I have one?” He stands there frozen for a moment before I tap his shoulder and lean in. “Go grab one in her size. Charge it to my seat.” He nods emphatically, awkwardly walking up the stairs with his long arms flapping at his sides. I’ll pay Ace back for it tonight. I couldn’t resist when I saw how excited she was about mine.

By the time I’m settled back in my seat, the top of the first is over, and Daytona is already two batters in. Ace is on deck, swinging his bat methodically with every pitch that’s made. But when it’s his turn at the plate, after the guy before him hits a ground ball right past the second baseman, no amount of information from my new little friend can prepare me for what happens.

“Sugar”by Trick Daddy blares through the speakers and the crowd jumps to their feet, watching as he twirls his bat around dramatically before turning toward where I’m seated. My eyes go wide as he points right at me. I turn to look over my shoulder so people don’t realize that I am, in fact, the subject of his attention. He lip-syncs the lyrics—which I’m surprised he even knows, considering how young he is—doing body rolls as the women surrounding me scream for more.

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