: Chapter 12

How these sons of bitches let me get up to bat, I don’t know.

Maybe the long-haired pretty boy wants to try and prove a point, to be the sole fucker who could say he struck out your boy, but what a dumb shit he is.

He walked Xavier, the fastest fucker on the team, and now we’ve got one on third and first. We’re only up by one right now, but all I’ve got to do is make it to first and X is coming home, no doubt.

So, when Winner by Jamie Foxx comes on and the crowd goes wild—yeah, even the home team fans love me—I swing my bat around and make my way into the batter’s box.

“How you doing, cocksucker?” I say to the catcher while keeping my eye on the man on the mound.

“Fuck you, Cruz.”

“After your girl, yeah, Hanson?”

“Dick.”

“Thick and long, my man. Now tell yours to hit me with that fastball he seems to favor. Watch me make a fool out of ‘em.”

The ump gives his okay, the pitcher jerks his chin and here we fucking go.

I could almost laugh the second before it leaves his hand.

He’s really serving the king of the curve, a motherfuckin’ curve?

Screw first base, this ball is going to the wall.

The clash of cork and rubber against metal pings with contact and the ball flies exactly where it’s intended, too fucking far to catch.

X comes in and I round to third, clapping like an asshole as I pop up, dusting my knees off like the obnoxious fucker I become on the field.

The pitcher comes off the mound, so I hold my arms out with a grin, but his coach shouts something from the dugout, and the punk turns back.

He knows he can’t win now, not when we’re up by three with two out and back to the four spot on our batting roster. Not when they’re at the bottom of theirs and I’m still set to take the mound.

He knows I never reach my max pitch count. When I start a game, I finish the fucking thing, unless we’re up by a fuck-ton, then I’ll swap out and let the number two finish out.

This game is ours, just like we knew it would be.

Like they knew it would be, and tomorrow morning, we’ll win again, sweeping the series.

My third base coach, who happens to be Cooper today, the brown-nosing fucker, steps closer. “You think they’re sour now, wait ‘til we show at their clubhouse tonight and get first pick over their ball babes.”

I chuckle. “Poor bastards are about to develop mad hate for Tuesdays.”

Our shortstop comes up to bat, hitting a line drive past second and I come in, but he gets caught at first, so we’re headed back on the field.

Two strikeouts and one infield fly later, we’re headed for the locker room, another win under our blue belts.

Coach Reid steps inside grinning with bright red lipstick on his cheek. “There’s a Kardashian lookalike waiting in the tunnel for number eleven.” He shakes my shoulder as he steps by. “Told her you’d be leading the first group out the door, son.”

I chuckle, tugging my jersey over my head. “Good looking out, Coach.”

“She have her sisters with her, Coach?” Echo shouts, whipping my hip with his towel.

The boys start planning the night, down to their pick of nonexistent Kardashian sisters waiting on the winning team. We plan to head over to the campus bar to start off the night. We can’t drink and we only get a couple hours before it’s lights out, early game tomorrow and all, but sometimes that’s all you need. One solid hour.

Like Coach said, the girls are waiting at the end of the tunnel and waste no time coming up to introduce themselves. I look out at the now empty field with a smirk, but as I do, the parking lot lights kick on in the distance, and an instant frown takes over.

It’s getting dark out. I’m a good five hundred miles from Oceanside, and there’s a girl that might be walking alone in the dark tonight.

Fuck.

I break from the giggly group, grab my phone from my pocket, and scroll to Meyer’s number, but my fingers pause there.

I narrow my eyes, looking out at the people piling into their cars and heading off.

She has no clue I followed her home those few nights, so what the hell am I supposed to say? Yesterday, I didn’t trip on it because I heard her tell Franny her friend was coming over, so I knew she wouldn’t be working. Once I heard that, I forgot to remember I’d be gone today, too.

Sure, Oceanside is a safe enough town, but there’s crime everywhere, and a girl alone, in the dark near a bar, is a situation that shouldn’t exist. Especially if that girl is her. Period.

“Cruz, let’s roll out!”

I turn when Echo calls me, one of his arms draped around a blonde, the other a brunette.

Brunette.

Fuck.

I look to my phone and hit the call button.

Fully expecting her to ignore it, as she usually does, I walk toward the group, but then the line stops ringing, and a soft little ‘hello’ fills my ear.

I stop in my tracks, satisfaction curling my lips.

“What’s this fool grinning at?” Neo teases, tossing his hat in the air and catching it on his head in an attempt to impress.

I flip him off and spin away.

“Tobias?”

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Her tone is teasing.

“Uh, I’m in Arizona.”

What the fuck? No shit, I’m in Arizona. She knows this.

“We won.” I nod. “Not that there was a chance we wouldn’t but …”

“Of course not.” She laughs quietly. “But congratulations anyway. Jonny had the game on at the center today. Nice pitching.”

“Jonny, huh?” I frown. That pink polo wearing bastard.

She hesitates a moment, and there’s some shuffling around in the background. “Did you, I mean, is there something you need? I’m with someone, so I only have—”

“Like a student?”

“What?”

I lift my hat a little, glancing over my shoulder at my crew.

X throws his arms up, but I spin back around.

“You’re tutoring someone right now?”

“For the next couple hours, yeah.”

“Who?”

Bro, chill. What the fuck is wrong with you?

I lick my lips. “You know what, it’s all good. I had a question but I can, uh, figure it out.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “My student’s in line for a book rental. I have maybe five minutes before he gets back …”

He.

Of course, it’s a he. They’re probably all he’s and she’s a she and fuck, dude. Shut up, you whiny ass bitch.

“If I call you later, you free?”

“I don’t usually pay attention to my phone when I’m at home, but since you’re telling me now, I can at least keep it near and try.”

There, she said home. That’s all I was after.

Right?

“Tobias motherfucking Cruz, get your ass over here. These girls are thirsty, if you know what I mean!” Gavin shouts from behind me.

I shake my head, flipping him off.

“I’ll let you go,” she says, a hint of hesitation in her tone.

“Is your dude back?”

“He’s not.”

“Then why hang up?”

“Cruz!” another asshole screams, louder than the rest.

“Bye, Tobias.”

I frown at the sky. “Later, Tutor Girl.”

I hope you have the opposite of fun.

I know I will.

Curfew comes quick and I’m thankful for it.

I’m exhausted. The crew was rowdy tonight, and the girls more scandalous than ever. It was too much, and I’m ready for the perks of being the main man—my own fucking room.

“So, which one you sneaking in tonight? The Brazilian beauty with the accent or the Barbie doll with lips like a blowfish?” Echo knocks his elbow into mine as we climb from the Uber. “Mine’s the captain of the volleyball team. Ass for days, son!”

Chuckling, I pull the key card out and we slip through the back doors. “None for me tonight, my man.”

“For real? What’s going on, suffering from some more DDLY?” We look to each other. “Some Dick Don’t Like You?”

Laughing, I shove his ass and step onto the elevator first.

He comes in next, blocking the door with a grin. “Sorry, fuckheads. Catch the next one.”

Our teammates groan, cussing us out as the metal doors close in their faces.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know.” He smirks, turning to me with questioning eyes. “You ain’t been hooking up lately.”

I shrug. “Not in the mood.”

“You not being in the mood is like meeting a chef who hates cooking. Not so sure such a thing exists.”

The elevator doors open and we step off on the ninth floor, cutting a left toward our block of rooms.

“So, what’s really going on?” he asks.

“I want her.”

“Who, my volleyball captain?”

I scoff a laugh. “Nah, man.” With a sigh, I swing my eyes to his. “My fucking tutor.”

His brows jump, amusement quickly following. “Well, there it the fuck it is, son. I called that shit when she stunned your ass by walking away from you without giving you the time of day.”

I chuckle when he bumps his shoulder into mine. “Yeah, fucker. You did.”

We enter my room, and he leans against the frame. “I take it she’s yet to bite?”

“It’s like she’s got no teeth.”

His head tugs back in shock. “Damn, maybe she has a man?”

I drop onto the edge of the bed, shaking my head.

“You asked …” he guesses.

I look to him, and he pushes off the wall, his eyes narrowing.

“You pussy-whipped fucker.” His grin is slow. “You asked her.”

“You have to be getting pussy to be pussy-whipped, asshole.”

“That’s debatable, my friend.” He laughs. “So, which is it? She free or taken?”

Running my tongue along my teeth, I let out a heaving breath and turn to face him once more. “She definitely ain’t free.”

Echo gets what I’m saying, and his lips slowly begin to curve.

Tutor Girl doesn’t have a man, but she ain’t free.

She’s mine.

Or she will be.

She just doesn’t know it yet.