Page 27 of The Third Baseman

“Yeah, no worries. I got this,” I replied, picking up the last book. A Guide to the Solar System was heavier than it looked. As we both stood, a subtle scent of sherbet filled the air.

I glanced over her; she was wearing a striped t-shirt covered in shooting stars, with a little rocket logo over her perfectly handful-sized breast. I quickly looked away. She was easily a foot shorter than me, which meant she can’t have been more than five four. No wonder she went flying. At least her jeans would have protected her knees from the hard floor.

What the…

I was still frowning at my internal monologue and the debate I was having on whether to give her one of the team backpacks to stop this from happening again, while also staring at her full and very soft looking pink lips. It was as she slipped the thick black glasses onto her head that I realized why she seemed familiar.

It was that girl, the one next door who Emerson and Mallory had been hounding me about, and I felt a pang of regret I hadn’t stopped.

I didn’t get a chance to speak before a door opened behind me, reminding me why I was on the second floor in the first place.

“What’s all the commotion?!” boomed Coach Barr. “Reeves, what are you doing?”

I turned to look at him. “Nothing, Coach. There was an accident.”

“Get in here,” he ordered.

I spun back round to the girl, but she was already on her way out without another word, heavy books scooped under one arm, and I couldn’t tell whether or not it bothered me as I stepped into Coach’s office.

“Take a seat,” Coach Barr ordered as he pointed to the chair in front of his desk, while he sat down on the other side of it and leaned back. “Now, tell me how it’s going.”

Coach Barr wasn’t known for his small talk. It was almost like he had a competition with himself to use as few words as possible. He was tough, but he got results by making us work our asses off. He’d gone through the draft when he was at college but never made it out of the minors, and at the ripe old age of twenty-five decided to leave and build a career in coaching. While we didn’t always like how hard he pushed us, we did like the wins, so we probably complained less than we would have done, or should have done.

I shuffled around, trying to get comfortable. “Um, it’s good, Coach. It’s good. We’ve been working hard over the holidays, and the beginning of the year. A couple of the guys have competed in tournaments as well. The team is ready for the season to start, and win it.”

He linked his hands behind his head and nodded slowly, like this was news to him, which it wasn’t. He had eyes and ears everywhere. “Good, good. Glad to hear it. You know why I called you in?”

I shook my head. “No, Coach.”

He raised a thick eyebrow at me, because we both knew what I thought I’d been called in for, even if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.

“I was hoping you’re gonna name me Captain of the Squad.”

He pinned me with a piercing stare, and I was momentarily taken back to the girl outside and her incredible green eyes.

“Then you’d be right.”

I stood up then sat back down. “Seriously?! Yes, Coach! Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

His lip curled ever so slightly in a smirk. “I know you won’t. You’ve already been doing a decent job at it and you’re going for the draft this summer, so I know you’ll be working hard up to then.”

My chest deflated slightly. I wasn’t expecting him to say I was amazing, but they weren’t the reasons I was hoping he’d be giving me the job – because I had too much to lose to fail. But then he took his feet off the desk and leaned forward.

“You’re a fantastic third baseman, Jupiter; one of the best I’ve ever seen. You’re going to go far. You lead the team well, and the junior guys look up to you, so keep you head screwed on and try to impart some wisdom before you go on to better things, will you?”

I grinned wide. “Yes, sir, I’ll try to.”

“Good.” He flicked his fingers in the direction of the door, dismissing me, “You can go, and send Roser in if he’s outside.”

I stood up, and turned to the door. “Sure thing, Coach.”

“You’re up,” I motioned to Dean Roser, a freshman pitcher leaning against the wall, who moved so quickly when he saw me he nearly slipped on the polished wood floor.

I smirked and took off back to the locker room to find Jenson and give him the good news.

* * *

I turned the key in the ignition and slowly backed out of my space.

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