Page 49 of Pitcher

It takes her a minute, but she finally smiles and confirms, “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Fun.

Yeah, it’s going to be a fucking blast.

Itried not to seem disappointed when I texted a friend, giving away the two tickets for the Braves game I bought earlier for my birthday. I figured it was the last time Theo and I would be able to attend a game together for a long time.

He made other plans.

And that’s fine. It really is.

Okay, so I’m disappointed, but as long as we spend my birthday together, then it doesn’t matter.

“Ans, are you almost ready?”

I give myself one last glance in the mirror. My hair is down for once, styled in trendy beach waves. My shorts are probably too short, but it’s hot as fuck, so I really don’t care. At least they are high-waisted and shave an inch or so off my waistline, so the long-sleeve crop top is extra flattering.

“Anniston!” he shouts again. Impatient much?

“I’m coming,” I mutter, grabbing my wristlet off the dresser and throwing open the door, nearly colliding with Theo.

“I said I was coming,” I tell him with a frown.

“You never take that long to get ready,” he accuses like he suspects I was back here building a bomb or something. His eyes rake up and down my body leisurely before he swallows thickly. “You look beautiful.” His voice is sincere and reverent, and it makes me want to come clean.

I don’t want to go to this party. I want to stay here with him and celebrate alone. After the night when we took our loose boundaries to a whole other level, I’ve been even more anxious about him leaving.

I won’t admit it to him, but I started looking into colleges in Washington. I know you aren’t supposed to follow a man, but Theo isn’t just any man. He’s my man. He has been for years, and if I stay here, I’m going to lose him.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and smile. “Thanks, Teddy. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

It’s not a lie. His jeans sit low on his hips, and he’s thrown on a stupid T-shirt that Brody bought him one year for Christmas. It says, “The king of the backdoor slider.” I laughed at first since a backdoor slider is a type of pitch. One that Theo throws very well, but it’s also a metaphor he and his teammates use for anal. Then I realized how very true that shirt is, in more ways than one.

I wanted to burn it.

I didn’t, clearly.

I can keep my crazy in check… sometimes.

“You want to take my car?” he asks hesitantly, like we’re on a date.

No. I’d like to stay here. With you. Naked. In the shower.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Liar. I am such a fucking liar.

The party is in full swing by the time we arrive. In a matter of ten minutes, Theo has already chugged a beer. He’s working on beer number two while sitting across from me at the poker table.

I thought maybe his bad mood was because he felt awkward giving me a gift earlier. When we parked on the curb and unbuckled our seat belts, he pulled out a half-ass wrapped gift from the back seat, thrusting it in my hands.

“You can’t open it until your actual birthday,” he said, looking at his watch and informing me, “at 10:02 p.m. to be exact.”

I laughed, thinking he was joking.

He didn’t.

It was a little awkward, so I nodded and tucked it away, promising to wait.

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