Page 26 of Wild Pitch
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“Anyone yet?”
I nurse my unsweet iced tea closer to my chest and shake my head. The irony of the situation is not lost on me. The second the four of us walked in, half of the pairs of eyes zeroed in on the three tall, well-built ball players, and more particularly on the pitcher with the gem-colored eyes. Literally no one cast a second glance at me.
To add insult to injury, the three of them have stuck like velcro to me, pointedly ignoring the women who would have no qualms with chatting them up, but also ensuring that I don’t run back to the hotel.
However, I am not a coward. Icanbe a failure, though.
Again, I make an attempt at spotting any candidates, but either the men are paired up or are in groups, and there’s no way I’m walking up to a bunch of people to single one out and express my interest. I would simply become the first registered case of human combustion.
“Nope,” I respond to Starr, popping the p the same way he did earlier.
Something in his expression suggests that he thinks I’m not trying hard enough.
“Cowboy, I’m pretty sure your eyes are way better than mine and can confirm that there are no single men in this place right now.”
“How about red shirt in the bar?” he tosses right back.
All of us turn to the man. Luckily his back is to us, or he’d have freaked out at how creepy we look.
“He’s sitting beside a buddy.” I point at blue shirt next to him with my puckered lips.
“They’re not friends,” Kim says right away.
“Yeah, they haven’t said a single word to each other since we walked in,” adds Rivera.
“Oh.” I bite my lip. “I genuinely hadn’t noticed.”
“Garcia.” The fact that it’s my last name and not his little nickname for me what comes out of Starr’s mouth is what tells me he’s serious. “No one’s gonna force you to do this if you really don’t want to. But you have to shed some of that fear if you want to make this work.”
“I know.” I scratch the top of my head and, taking a shaky breath, I ask, “But what do I even say?”
They all exchange blank expressions.
“Wait, wait.” Rivera shifts his weight to one leg. “¿Me estás diciendo que no sabes hablar con los manes?”
Like magic, his question makes me wish for lightning to strike me.
“It’s n-not that I don’t know how to talk with guys.” I clear my throat way too loudly. “After all I’m talking with all of you. Every damn day.”
“Yeah, just not when it’s romantically,” Starr says, fully revealing what I left unsaid.
I’m pretty sure my face is so red that it may be bordering on purple now.
Kim hums from his throat. “I get it.”
We turn to him and I ask, “You do?”
“Yeah, it’s different. The stakes are higher.”
“Thank you.” I open my eyes wide to convey my sincerity.
“How’s this…” Starr twists to place his sweet iced tea on the high top behind him. “You try to strike a conversation, don’t even try to flirt. Just get some response back. I’ll be next to you pretending to order something, ready to bail you out if you screw up.”
“When,” I mumble.
“If,” he repeats with a sigh, then adds, “Or if you’re just freaking out you can just poke my arm and I’ll pretend you’re my long lost cousin I hadn’t seen since aliens abducted you.”
