Page 24 of Wild Pitch
I stop, still with a whole yard between us. “This isn’t an ambush, is it?”
“Of what kind?” Starr’s eyebrows knot in confusion.
“Never mind, but what is the flirt doing here?” I gasp before answering my own question. “Don’t tell me you brought him here to make me practice?”
“No, I was promised a beer in exchange for my presence,” Rivera explains.
I stare at him for a long moment. “Oh yeah? Did the nutrition team approve that?”
“Well…”
Sighing, Starr says, “We’re not in our turf. Anyone who sees the two of us alone might draw the wrong conclusions. Whereas three of us will look like friends.”
“I don’t think that show has held up well,” a different voice adds from behind me. Logan Kim walks towards us, hands in the pockets of his jeans. His jaw length straight hair is half tucked behind one ear.
Rivera blows a raspberry. “Dude, no one’s talking about the show.”
“Then about what?” the catcher asks, standing next to me.
“Nunya.”
“Oh is that your latest girlfriend?”
Meanwhile, Starr takes his phone out of his pocket. “Look at the time, it’s I-want-to-get-the-hell-away-from-these-stooges o’clock.”
I snort a laugh that somehow is what makes the other two stop their nonsensical conversation. Clearing my throat, I answer Kim’s original question. “My uh, two buddies here and I are going out for a non alcoholic drink. Am I right?” And at this I level A Look at Rivera.
“Right.” He jerks his head in a nod.
“Then I’ll join,” Kim declares. “I need to make sure this puppy of a pitcher stays out of trouble.”
“What about me? Is it okay if I get in trouble?” Rivera puts a hand on his chest.
“Puppy?” Starr scrunches up his face but falls into step beside Kim. “Couldn’t you say something more interesting like leopard cub? Or even a baby shark?”
As Rivera walks between them and drops his arms on their shoulders, saying, “I hate that song.”
I rub my temples.
It’s already pretty hard to have a conversation with Starr where I don’t end up humiliated, but now with those two in tow this is a disaster waiting to happen.
“Aren’t you coming, darlin’?”
I snap my head up. At some point, Starr fell back and is just a few feet from me, waiting. Kim and Rivera are already out the door, still visibly arguing about something I’m sure belongs to a comedy skit. Where’s Rose to capture them at their silliest moments like this? As much as they annoy me, fans would love to hear their banter.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
We walk in blissful silence across the lobby until joining the other two. Rivera is still ribbing the fairly stoic catcher for sport, but Kim lobbies back some dry sarcasm that I can respect.
“So, here’s my idea,” Starr says beside me.
I finally look at him—really look at him. He’s wearing a nondescript gray cap backwards, and a strand of smooth brown hair escapes from the hole to curl over his forehead. He’s in a matching Henley, black jeans, and black high tops with white trims. The guy put zero effort into his look and still looks fresh out of a catalogue.
Oops, he’s still talking. “—To see how you rate on the scale of good to bad.”
“Huh?”
He stops and turns his eyes away from his teammates to me. “You weren’t paying any attention, were you?”
