Page 10 of Pitcher

I flash my brother a look of regret. “She’s always been mine.”

“I think that’s everything.”

Cautiously, I raise my head from the trunk where I haven’t been able to look away from the red pair of panties with tiny baseballs along the edges. Thad isn’t here to see us off, and I understand. Last night I basically admitted that I don’t care who I have to go through to have Anniston at my side, even if that person is my brother.

I stuff the pair of panties back in her bag. Anniston packed everything from her prom dresses to the crumbs under her bed.

She packed three times what I did. It’s excessive and warrants a downsize. All I did was unzip one of her bags, intending on leaving some unnecessary shit here, but I saw the panties and all thoughts of downsizing scattered… along with my brain cells. Sure, I’ve seen some of Anniston’s panties, but what I haven’t seen is baseball ones.

These are lacy and girly. Visions of them sitting low on her hips have me sporting major wood right now. I can’t fucking help it. My name literally belongs on the ass of those glorious underwear.

“Theo, yoo-hoo. Earth to Theo…”

Anniston’s prompting forces my focus back to her face. Right. I need to answer her. Clearing my throat, I plaster on a smirk and pop back, “Are you sure you didn’t forget the lint from the dryer? I think we have a few centimeters left in the car if you want to give the house one more sweep.”

Eyes the color of my favorite blue Skittles narrow at my remark before they roll. “Did you pack your ADHD meds?”

Of course I did.

Wait.

“Ugh. Fuck,” I groan.

I hate when she’s smug.

“Don’t worry,” she chides. “We can stop back by your house on the way out of town.”

She pats my shoulder almost arrogantly, and a rush of adrenaline hits me. I snatch her back, making her squeal in my arms.

“You’re stuck with me for the next four years, McCallister. No take backs.”

Slow, almost purposely, as if she needs a minute before she faces me, Anniston turns in my arms. Her eyes shine brightly in the sun before a quivering smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“No take backs,” she agrees and swallows hard.

No take backs.

She just signed a deal with the Devil.

Anniston McCallister is mine.

All. Mine.

One month until our college graduation, or Doomsday as we like to call it.

“Violet reports,” I raise my voice so it sounds squeaky and pitches across to the kitchen, “that the highlight of the year is upon us!”

Theo, who is chest deep in the refrigerator, pulls back to glare at me. After more than three and a half years of living together, I’ve yet to miss an opportunity to embarrass him. And after the night I had, this morning’s Daily Grind—the University’s Paper—was exactly what I needed to brighten my day. He knows what’s coming, and that makes this even better.

“She says, and I quote, ‘Theo Von Bremen returns to the mound after the longest pitching rotation ever.’” I roll my eyes but continue. “‘His stellar—’” I mouth the word stellar and wiggle my brows. “‘—pitching skills are unparalleled to anything Cantor University has ever seen before.’”

I glance at Theo who finally found what he was looking for—a freaking water—and smirk. “Violet needs to refresh her reporting skills. Cantor University has seen theseunparalleled pitching skillsbefore.”

He flips me off while chugging his water, but I don’t stop. “In fact, they’ve seen it several times. In the last ten years, Cantor University has had six players drafted to the MLB. The most in its history.”

Violet has clearly been drinking the Von Bremen Kool-Aid. But whatever, so have most females on campus.

“Is Violet the girl who gave good head?” he asks me, his brows furrowed like he really has to think hard about it.

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