Page 37 of Wild Pitch
If anything, this makes his expression grow even more sour. “Don’t tell me you think you’re a two or something?”
“Am I the only one who is mildly disturbed by how we’re measuring people in an arbitrary number scale instead of for who they are?” Kim asks, folding his arms and leaning back.
It’s Rivera who responds. “That’s what you have to do when you literally don’t know them. Eyes first, brains later, heart last.”
“Welcome to modern dating.” I slump forward, dropping my chin on my hand for my arm to prop me up. “Anyway, in thenon numerical scale, this guy falls under normal. Decent looking but not enough for him to be obsessed with his own reflection, respectable job, within my age range, and normal hobbies like cooking and running.”
“Bo-o-ring.” Rivera pretends to yawn.
“Give me that thing.” Starr drops his hand on the table, palm facing up.
“You’re not gonna unmatch me, are you?”
“No, I’m going to find you better options, darlin’.”
I whine from my throat but fess up and hand over the device. He’s only lifted it to take a first look, when another shadow falls on the table.
“What do we have here?”
I stiffen at my boss’s voice. Even worse, he’s brought Otto in tow and I wish I could grab my phone and make a dash for my room. Or better yet, out of the hotel.
But the device is still prisoner in Starr’s hands and—wait, what is he doing? Why’s he pocketing it?
“Hey Steve. Otto,” he greets my boss and coworker with a tip of his head and he’s just missing the cowboy hat to fully play the part. We’re no longer in his home state but I guess you can’t ever take Texas out of the cowboy.
“Guys.” Steve nods at the others before turning his attention to me. “What are you all doing together?” The question sounds friendly enough, his expression placid, but given how it’s only directed at me, I detect that it comes from authority-Steve, and not off-duty-Steve. So if I take his question and apply subordinate logic to it, the veiled accusation implies that the four of us shouldn’t be hanging out together.
I’m scrambling to put together something that sounds casual and not absurd, which is definitely the opposite ofoh I was just showing my dating app matches to three hot baseball playerswho aren’t tens, but a solid one hundred each, and trying to get their advice. Nothing big.
But Starr comes in to pinch hit. “We’re just talking about how much playing the field has changed nowadays.” Technically not a lie, but with a drastically different core subject than the other trainers probably suspect.
“Fielders have never been busier since batters produce more hits, huh?” Steve jerks his chin at Rivera. “Speaking of, how’s your knee?”
“A-plus-plus,” says the Boricua with a thumbs up, before pressing his lips tight to hold back laughter. We pay special attention to his knees after the scare he gave us midseason last year.
“And yours?” My boss shifts his attention to the catcher.
“In mint condition.” That’s also a lie and we all know it. Catchers’ knees are their weakest point and we’ve been extremely fortunate that Kim’s haven’t started acting up yet, even though he’s already been playing in the pros for eight years.
“And your shoulder?” Steve asks Starr. He’s never injured it, but it occasionally pains him enough that he can’t hide it.
The pitcher lifts his arm to flex his bicep and I’m surprised it bulges even through his thick sweater. “Ready to throw some cutters right this second.”
Otto looks down at me with a smirk before addressing the guys. “I’m curious about what Garcia can possibly be teaching to three professional ball players, though.”
“She has an unbelievable amount of facts about each of us stored in her brain.” Starr taps his temple. “It’s pretty wild, actually. Pun intended.”
My lips part.
And then Kim adds, “She’s probably the most observant staff member and honestly, as a catcher I admire that.”
Oh my gosh, is he for real? Or is that just to make Otto and Steve go away? But Kim’s poker face is world famous, so it’s impossible to glean the truth from his expression.
Maybe I need to stop staring at him, though. Going by how the cowboy’s eyes narrow on me, I think he’s starting to clue into the fact that I enjoy basking in the visage of Logan Kim.
“And she takes no bullshit, so she keeps us on the straight and narrow.” Rivera raises his palm and there’s no way I can leave him hanging after the compliment, so I high five him.
“Er, good.” Steve clears his throat. “So, I guess we’ll go sit at the table over there since there’s no room here. Let’s go, Otto.”
