Page 56 of The Shake Off

“The other night.”

“Before yesterday’s game…” His brows dropped as he did some quick calendar math. “Doesn’t seem like you fucked things up worse.”

“Not possible,” I laughed. “Nothing could have gotten worse.”

“Ace…”

“Parker, I had to try something.”

He got up and moved to the dry seat opposite me, throwing the wet towel on the floor to mop up the puddle, and leaned forward.

“So, what? You had sex and now it’s all better?”

I closed my eyes and began running through the little mental inventory I’d started yesterday morning – head,check; body,check; arm and shoulder,check.It all felt… normal. Back to normal. Or rather, I felt different to how I had been feeling. I’d felt different the moment I’d woken up.

Hell, I’d felt different the second she’d fallen asleep, and I’d laid there listening to her breathing. And the more I thought about it, the more I was certain that I didn’t just feel different, I feltbetter.

All day I’d been testing myself to see if the fog I’d been living in had returned… but it hadn’t.

I’d tried not to get mad when Coach Chase had announced Riley Rivers as starting pitcher, because I wanted to test my theory. It had been hard, but I understood. Coach wanted a winner. Instead, I’d sat there on the bench waiting to be called, and the strangest thing happened.

For the first time since the beginning of the season, I hadn’t been consumed with doubt and worry and anger that something was wrong with me. I hadn’t been comparing my last season’s stats, I wasn’t thinking about what I’d do if my career tanked and I was dropped by The Lions before this season ended.

I was thinking about Payton, and that noise she made. That Imadeher make.

If I closed my eyes, all I could see was her face contorted in ecstasy as her pussy clamped around my fingers, before it morphed into her riding my dick like she was going for Olympic gold, and then she was appearing in the bathroom doorway, wearing only that heaven-sent bra and panties set. I’d never seen anything like it.

It was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen, until she started getting dressed.

If anyone had asked me whether watching a woman get dressed was sexy, I’d have answered with a loud laugh and an‘are you crazy?’ but Payton Lopez had firmly changed my opinion on a lot of things in the last twenty-four hours, and getting dressed was one of them. From that point on, my brain ricocheted between that noise and what she was wearing underneath her demure little skirt and blouse, and whether she always wore it. All day long –moan; her walking around New York,moan; taking meetings,moan; talking on the phone.

It was fucking hot.

And the best thing about it? My brain didn’t have room for anything else. No anxiety, no nerves, no panic.

Nothing.

When I walked to the mound, my mind was clear.

It was only as the Red Sox first batter made his way to home plate so slowly he almost got a time penalty and Parker signaled for the pitch he wanted, did everything suddenly slot back into place.

For the first time in nearly two weeks, I could breathe properly.

I could feel myself coming back.

The dark clouds shifted; my muscle memory returned. Out of habit, my neck cracked left and right, and my spine re-aligned. I stood tall.

My hand gripped the ball inside my glove. I stepped back, and my knee raised.

The ball shot through the air; the Red Sox batter swung… and missed. The ball was safely inside Parker’s glove.

I did it again. It was only on the third pitch that he managed to get off home plate and make it to first.

The crowds cheered. There wasn’t a boo in earshot.

When I returned to the dugout at the end of my innings, Coach Chase had slapped me on the back and thanked me for finallypulling my finger out, which was the most praise I’d be getting.

I looked at Parker and shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. That’s a theory I plan to test.”

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