Page 22 of West Bound

I step out of the stall and wash my hands, letting the cool water run over my pulse point with hopes of cooling the fire burning through my body. It’s a nasty one because it’s been fueled by not only my rage but apparently a kick of lust on the side.

CeCe: Heads up, Bish already texted me and said to get y’all to meet them afterwards.

Cami: Yup. Just got the call from Vaughan. Guys headed to Ike’s after the game. I’m dropping off Dagen at Maxine’s and I’ll be on my way.

Cat: Cam, come pick me up.

Me: Fucking great. I gotta go. See you later.

We all sign off and I brace myself to walk back out there. My steps are confident and strong and I hold my head high. That is, until I realize I have to do a post game interview with none other than the cocky jock who makes my body tingle.

Ugh! Fuck my life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

PHOENIX

“Godzilla” - Eminem (feat. Juice WRLD)

I closed my debut by shutting out the last batter in the seventh and walked off the field to a standing ovation from my new home.

Down in the dugout, my teammates all slap my back with big ass smiles on their faces and cheers. My manager tells me to rest for the remainder of the game despite my protests that I can finish. I know he’s looking out for me and it has nothing to do with my performance, so I let it go and watch our closer tie up loose ends and celebrate with the rest of the team when we win, two to zero.

The team makes it back out on the field and we talk with a few guys from the opposing team who aren’t crying like a pack of bitches after the loss. I catch up with a couple ex-teammates who I’ve remained friends with, and we talk a little about what’s going on in their clubhouses. They congratulate me on the trade and the win and suggest we meet up some time.

Just as we’re passing off the last of the handshakes, one of the guys jerks his head to the side and is laser focused on something behind me.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “That chick is a goddamn knockout.” I look over my shoulder and spot Vivian walking slowly towards me with her cameraman in tow. “What I wouldn’t give to find out what it sounds like when she screams. Fuck.”

The other guys follow his stare and all let out quiet curses at the smoke-show that draws closer to us. She finally reaches where we stand and sidles up next to me.

“Phoenix, good game,” she acknowledges with a curt tone then turns toward the guys. “Sorry fellas. Better luck next time. But hey, nice catch in the fifth Armand. You totally robbed Bernie of homerun.”

Armand, the player she referred to, stands tall and smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetheart. I couldn’t let that asshole get one over me. I’m still sour about that out at first. I was safe and that fucking blue knew it. He just doesn’t like me because I pissed on his shoes once when I was a rook.”

Vivian snorts the cutest laugh and she reaches up to muffle the sound.

“I hate to break it to ya, but I had a clear view from my perch,” she turns and points to the empty chair where she sat next to the dugout. “And you were out by a mile.”

Armand slaps his hand on his chest and fakes injury. “Ouch, beautiful. That cut me.” He winks at her and she blushes.

Bastard. His cheesy ass gets a smile and a blush, yet all I got from her was an icy glare and daggers thrown my way for the remainder of the game.

“Vivian Kelley. On field correspondent for KTHU.” She holds out her hand and makes introductions.

Armand, being the player he is, shakes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it before releasing her.

“Got any plans for the rest of the night, Vivian?” He asks.

My blood is boiling as the two of them continue to flirt. She may not be mine right now, but she will be one day. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this walking STD get his hands on her.

“Sorry, big guy. I’m meeting up with my girls for drinks after I interview this guy,” she responds and jerks her thumb in my direction.

“Your girls, huh? Well what do you say I bring my bros and we meet up with you all and–”

“Speaking of interviews,” I interrupt their banter. “We better get to it.” I grind my jaw and pass the guys a look that says back the fuck off.

Two of them catch my drift, but fucking Armand can’t take a hint. He opens his mouth to speak again, when her cameraman blessedly cuts in.

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