Page 12 of Wild Pitch
With a deep breath, I plunge into the waters of honesty. “My ex boyfriend is dating my now ex best friend and I’ve been trying all the dating apps to find someone I can show off to them for the next Friendsgiving, but my success rate so far is minus one hundred.” I say all of this with my face smushed against the counter marble, like the grown adult I am.
There’s only silence right after, which is no bueno.
Lifting my head up by a fraction, I peek first at Rose who strokes her chin, deep in thought. Then at Audrey, whose arms are folded, her eyes glaring at the distance.
“Yeah, okay.” The latter is the first one who breaks. “You’re not gonna get any advice from me. All men suck, no exceptions.”
“My dad doesn’t suck,” I mumble and at the last second add, “but my brother does, yeah.”
“I think your plan is flawless.” Both Audrey and I fully turn to face Rose and she shrugs. “I mean, you’re not actively hurting them by smearing them online or anything. You just want to show that you’ve moved on and are happier than ever with a new beau. There’s nothing wrong in that.”
“Ew, don’t say Beau.” I scrunch up my face at the thought of me dating Rob Beau, the manager of the team. Last I checked he was still married to his wife of thirty years.
Rose rolls her dark eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“But her plan can’t be quite as flawless as you imply if she looks this miserable,” Audrey whispers every word carefully, as if I couldn’t hear her because she’s literally at arm’s length.
With a great huff, I lean back on my seat. “Yeah, the flaw is men.”
“Word.”
“Totally.”
“Or…” I cringe so hard that I my own shoulders rise to my ears. “The flaw is me.”
“Absolutely not!” Rose smacks the counter hard enough that she hisses and cradles her hand close to her chest.
Audrey nods. “I agree. You’re smart, driven, with a little accent that no doubt drives them wild, and super hot.”
“Sure, I work out,” I retort in a deadpan. “But I don’t have the lithe body of a ballerina. I look like a weightlifter because that’s what I am.”
“Listen, I wish I had your tiny waist and huge butt without sweating half as much.” She nudges me with her elbow.
“I’m partial to your arms,” Rose says, wrapping her hand around my bicep through my jacket. “They have zero jiggle. I really envy that.”
“I think men like some jiggle,” I say, shrugging. “At least on account of how little they like me. Or maybe the issue isn’t my body but me. After all, according to my ex I’m really boring to talk to.”
“Where’s all this negative self talk coming from, girlie?”
Another pathetic sound expels from my chest, but I respond to Audrey’s question with the truth and nothing but the truth—abridged version. I touch on how Dawson was the only guy atcollege who looked past my muscles to the feminine side of me, up until it suddenly wasn’t enough.
Aside from that, I include highlights from the dating apps like what just happened tonight—they also release cavewoman sounds once I show them the last message I got from tonight’s would-be-date—to the one time a guy straight up ended the date after saying I could probably benchpress him, and the jerks who left me to pick up the whole tabs.
I’m so incensed that I keep running my mouth and say, “And the worst part is that Cade freaking Starr saw one of those go down. The humiliation was so strong, I even acted like a douche later and now I can’t possibly face him ever again.” I throw my hands in the air. “I’m sick and tired of men. I should quit my job and go work at a woman’s college basketball team.”
Rose grabs both of my shoulders, making my barstool swivel so I can face her. She’s the more touchy feely of them two, which might be due to the familiarity of both of us being Venezuelan, even though we’re not related. “I have an idea but I need you to really listen to it before you react.”
“Go for it, at this point I’m desperate,” I whine.
“Clearly both Audrey and I think you’re amazing and short of giving you a little makeover, I don’t think we can show you how to do much better at dating.”
“Especially when neither of us are experts in the matter,” Audrey says behind me.
Rose wrinkles her nose. She’s the only one in this house who has game. Men flock to her gorgeous smile wherever she goes, and she dates enough of them to keep herself entertained. The problem is that she only has two kinds of stories to tell from this: horror ones, or tear-inducing ones. It puts her firmly on the same camp of what-is-wrong-with-men that Audrey and I belong to.
“Right. So I think you can benefit from an expert.” Rose interrupts herself to press her lips in a clear sign of discomfort. “And by that I mean, someone who can really give you insights from the male perspective.”
I scrunch up my face. “So, a guy?”
