Page 5 of Off Season

What. The. Fuck.

CHAPTER ONE

NEARLY SIX MONTHS EARLIER

KAMRYN

“Blow jobs are my love language with men. With women…” I twist my lips, “hmm, maybe making them squirt.”

Ripley, Arizona, and Bailey all burst out laughing. My waterbed is shaking because they’re all sitting on it laughing so damn hard.

Ripley wheezes, “Blow jobs and squirting aren’t love languages, you lunatic.”

I pinch my eyebrows together. I wasn’t trying to be funny. “What are love languages?”

She answers, “I texted you all the test last night and told you to take it. There are five love languages. Physical touch, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, and receiving gifts. The test shows you how you prefer to be loved. Everyone is different and it’s all on a sliding scale. We like a little of each, but usually, there’s one strong leader in the pack.”

I pull up our group chat, see the link to the test, and click onit. I’m answering all the inane questions while I hear them chatting about their results. Ripley’s number one love language is words of affirmation. That makes sense for her. Ripley is the curviest of the four of us and has always suffered from body image issues over her larger six-foot pitcher’s frame. I imagine she’ll need someone who makes her feel comfortable in her own skin. She’s a gorgeous, curly-haired redhead, and I don’t know why she doesn’t see it, but she doesn’t. I hope she finds a man who makes her feel as beautiful as she is, both on the inside and outside.

Bailey and I met Ripley and Arizona ten years ago during our freshman year of college at UCLA. We all played on the UCLA softball team. Ripley and Arizona grew up together in Northern California while Bailey and I grew up in Southern Florida. Bailey and I played professional ball in Chicago for the past six years after we graduated from college. Arizona played in Southern California while Ripley played in Houston, Texas. A few weeks ago, we all signed with a new team, the Philadelphia Anacondas, and moved to Philly last week. Bailey and I live in the apartment next door to Ripley and Arizona. It’s so fun to be reunited with our close friends as we begin training for the Olympics in four years. It’s something we’ve been talking about doing together since the day we all met. Well, maybe not all of us. My sister is a bit indifferent, but the rest of us won’t accept anything besides Olympic gold.

Arizona, a tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, answers, “My primary love language is physical touch.” She sighs. “I do miss the touch of a man.”

She had a bad breakup with her fiancé last year, and it’s taken a toll on her. I don’t think she’s dated much since, though I know Ripley is hopeful that this move will break Arizona out of her fog. And she had a big date last night that she’s been tight-lipped about this morning.

Bailey holds up her phone and, to no one’s surprise, proclaims that quality time is her primary love language. My sister, the much kinder, sweeter, more subdued twin, loves spending time with the men she dates. I’m the exact opposite. One, I don’t date. Sexualencounters are all I’m interested in. Men or women, I don’t care, but I’m a hit-and-run kind of girl. Two, the last thing I want is to spend quality time with someone. Sex? Yes. Anything more? Absolutely not. It’s a waste of my time and energy.

After answering the series of questions, the online calculator spits out my answer. Lifting my head, I say, “According to this, I’m forty-three percent interested in a partner providing me with acts of service. What does that mean?”

Ripley answers, “You’re most interested in someone taking care of you.”

“Well, duh. They need to make me come. That’sallI want from anyone. It should be a hundred percent.”

My sister rolls her eyes. “It’s not only physical needs. It’s more. This is kind of sweet, Kam. You get off on someone who considersallyour needs.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “All hope isn’t lost for you.”

I throw my phone on my bed and cross my arms. “Whatever. This is dumb. I don’t need a partner to take care of anything for me beyond the bedroom. I’m an independent woman. I can take care of myself.”

I don’t want to talk about this anymore, so I turn to Arizona. “How was your date with the one and only Layton Lancaster last night?Pleasegive us a few juicy details.”

Arizona went on her first date in forever last night. Not just any date. She went to a huge public event with one of the biggest, hottest professional baseball players on the planet. Their pictures are all over every gossip site this morning, with lots of speculation about a budding relationship.

She nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. “It was…umm…fine. He was sweet. Respectful.”

Weird answer. “Did you bang him?”

She rolls her eyes. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not? He’s so hot. I’d sit right on that square chin of his if I were you.”

She and Ripley exchange an indecipherable look before sheturns back to me. “We had a nice time. We’re going to see each other again, but you know I’m just getting back into the dating pool. I need to take things slowly. While we’re on this topic, he invited us to hang out with him and his friends tonight. They’re going to the same bar, Screwballs, that we went to the other night.”

Bailey and I instinctively look at each other and communicate without words or actions, as always. I nod. “Sure, we’d love to. I hope his friends are hot too.”

She smiles as she stands. “Great. I’m having brunch with my brother. I’ll see you guys later.”

I wink at her. “Tell sexy Quincy that we say hello.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Off limits. My brother is off limits to you. He can’t handle you.” She mumbles, “I’m not sure anyone can.”

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