The Trade(125)

“Can you not tell me you have a boner while embracing me? Jesus, man.”

He chuckles and lets go, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Just be grateful I’m not rubbing it against your leg like I do to Dottie.”

“Did I ever tell you how lucky she is to have you?”

“No.” Jason looks over to me. “But that means a lot. Thanks, man.” Jason starts thumbing through his phone while he says, “I can’t wait to marry her. She’s so fucking perfect.”

The uptight-but-secretly-funny boss babe and the quirky, sensitive baseball player are oddly perfect for each other. I’ve never seen the dynamic they have, such opposites that they actually work. She grounds him, he loosens her up, and they meet in the middle. I’m proud to be a part of their wedding.

“Hey, Orson, can you come here for a second?” Maddox asks from his locker.

“Yeah.” Jason sets his phone down in front of me and heads over to Maddox.

Lifting my other foot, I start to put on my other sock when my eyes briefly fall to Jason’s phone. Natalie’s name in fucking bold, as if he magnified the view on his phone to ultra-old-person size.

Glancing up at Jason, I see his back toward me, so I do something I really shouldn’t but can’t help myself. I read his text.

Natalie: Is he okay?

Jason: Great. Healthy. Happy.

Natalie: Good.

Jason: You should talk to him, after the game.

Natalie: I can’t. I want to . . . but I can’t.

My breath catches in my chest as I read the last sentence over and over again. She wants to . . . but she can’t. Why can’t she? Because she’s in a relationship? Because she’s nervous? Because she still hates me?

When I look up from the screen, Jason is standing in front of me now, a wicked grin on his face. He looks over his shoulder to Maddox and says, “Worked like a charm, man.”

“Knew it would.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, finishing with my sock.

Growing serious, Jason says, “She asks about you once a week, if not more. She has been ever since you broke up. She’s not dating anyone, never did, because she can’t seem to get over you, despite what she might have said to you at any point in time. And she’s too scared to approach you. There.” Jason holds his hands up, pretending to wash them. “I did my friend and brotherly duty, I wash my hands of this. What you decide to do with this information is up to you.”

Maddox steps up and drapes his arm over Jason’s shoulders. “Yeah, but you better do the right fucking thing. After we clinch, you’re going to her.”

“Oooh, I like that idea, so fucking romantic. Shower first though.” Jason nuzzles Maddox’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Maddox palms Jason’s head, holding him close. “Shower for sure.”

Marcus inserts his head into the conversation and says, “I can attest to showering. If you make up, you want your dick clean.”

“Clean dicks are always appreciated by a woman,” Jason says.

“And balls,” Maddox says with a smiling face, something that is very rare and only saved for the men in this room. “I’m sure if you need help scrubbing after the game, Jason here will lend a hand.”

Jason holds up his hands and with a twinkle in his eyes, he says, “I have two.” He squeezes them. “I’m ready to handle the boss.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Although, it does scare me.”

“Wait . . .” I blink a few times. “Are you calling my—”

Maddox punches Jason in the arm. “Fuck, dude, we told you not to give it away.”

Standing now, my lips tilted up, I say, “You’re not calling me boss . . . you’re calling my dick boss.”

Three sets of eyes fall to my covered crotch and then back up.

“I mean . . .” Marcus says.

“Have you seen . . .?” Maddox adds.

“Dude, you have a giant cock,” Jason says, thoroughly impressed. “You put my towel picture to shame.” He clenches his thighs together and says, “I feel bad for my sister.”

“Things you shouldn’t be thinking about,” I say while sitting back down and shaking my head.

When they fall silent, I look up again to see all their expectant faces staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Uh, are you going to go after her? Finally?” Jason asks.

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer,” Maddox says. “Don’t be a fucking moron. You want her, she wants you, end this misery and go after her. But I’ll tell you this, if she ever wears a Bobbies shirt again, I might very well murder her.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Or at least photoshop a Bobbies shirt on me to really complete that picture.”

All at once, the guys yell dibs and then start fighting over who gets to post the picture I just suggested. While they argue, I sit back in my locker, a thrumming building inside me, electrifying my limbs.

She still wants me.

She’s not dating anyone.

She asks about me all the time.

Well, fuck, I don’t have an option at this point. I need to get my girl back.





Staring at my bat, I take a deep breath and drown out the magnified boos that seem to be rocking the stadium tonight. It almost feels like they gave every fan in the stadium a megaphone, and they’re all using them now.