Three Strikes - 32. Fresh Start

No sex? Was that a thing you could do after you sleep with someone?

I stared unbelievingly at Shane, unsure how I should move forward.

“Okay,” I spoke slowly. “Just out of curiosity, what made you come to this conclusion?”

“Because I like you and I want things to work. Whatever we did before wasn’t working. If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right.”

“And ‘doing it right’ means…no sex?” I continued to speak slowly, trying to under fully understand what was happening. He nodded with a cute little smile that made my insides muddy. “You like me so much that you don’t want to have sex with me?” I looked at him suspiciously.

“Exactly! I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he chuckled, faking a little too much excitement.

“Sure, same page,” I drawled. “Different books, but same page.”

I was joking. Kind of.

He resumed his previous position; lying back in the water. His auburn hair floated freely around him. His eyes were closed and he had a relaxed smile on his face. He didn't have a care in the world.

He’d be a fabulous assassin. I could picture it clearly. Shane strolling into someone’s home with a grenade in his hand. Casually pulling the pin with his teeth before spitting it off to the side like watermelon seeds. Tossing the grenade into the lap of the unsuspecting victim as if he were tossing beer or a soda to a friend, then walking off after wishing them a good day. The explosion behind him wouldn’t phase him at all. Nope, he might adjust his hat from the blowback, other then that, he’d walk home and fall asleep as if he hadn’t just caused mass destruction.

I might’ve been being a little dramatic but Shane had just said he didn’t want to have sex with me. And he said it like he was telling me he wasn’t going to eat my spaghetti squash casserole—and I made really good spaghetti squash casserole. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to drop the topic because my mind was brimming with thoughts and questions, but until I could collect them and sort them into neat little piles, I needed to keep my mouth shut before I fucked shit up.

I decided to let it go, for now. Instead, I looked around for the first time since Shane and I had hopped in the pool. The DONNAS, AARP, and Drew were splashing around while Aaron and Kurt stood back and watched, in horror, while their grandfather’s behaved like teenagers. It was obvious they didn’t view their older counterparts as anything other than—their older counterparts. I thought the older men were a hoot, but they weren’t my grandparents. My grandparents were old and gross. Them, sex? Never.

I guess there was a part of me that understood the psychological warfare they were experiencing.

While Aaron and Kurt stood on the sideline with horror-stricken faces, I tried not to think about sex while lazily pushing Shane around the pool. Shane looked good, felt good, and I enjoyed having a reason to touch him without him freaking out. I was respectful, of course, knowing his history and all. There wasn’t a fiber in me that wanted to make the same mistake again, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the position that allowed my hands the freedom to graze his legs and bum.

I stared at his pink shorts and smiled. I was sure there was a rule, somewhere, that said redheads don’t wear pink and, for that reason alone, I loved that he wore pink. I also loved that they were short, especially on his long, muscular legs. Saying they were “mid-thigh” was being generous, not that I was complaining.

I loved his details: his perfect man’s nose, which was solid and masculine, yet sleek with soft lines; and his perfectly average chest hair that led to a fine dusting of belly hair, which I loved to rub with my fingers.

Speaking of fingers, he had great hands. I have long, lanky fingers while Shane’s were larger and thicker. It was obvious he was a recovering nail biter—they just had that look. He wore his nails short and semi manicured. He’d still have benefited greatly from a nice spa day, not that he’d ever do it, regardless, he had nice hands.

I was lost in his details while my hands roamed from his lower back, across his butt, and down his thigh before repeating the same pattern, over and over, when he broke me from my study.

“What was three?” He was still floating with his eyes closed so he couldn’t see the confused look on my face. Three? He must’ve sensed it or maybe it was the lack of response that tipped him off. “Eariler, you said three things. Nick and Nelly, my lady shorts, and?”

I felt his legs squeeze my hips, like a boa constrictor, as he used my body as leverage to lift his upper half out of the water until he was facing me. He ran his hands through his wet hair while I happily supported his weight by cupping his booty. The only time I’d be able to carry that Yeti was with the magic of buoyancy, while chest deep in a pool.

I thought back to the conversation and came up empty.

“I honestly don’t remember. You threw me with the no sex thing.”

He looked at me and I could tell he was wondering if I was okay with it or not. It was a legitimate question. How did I feel? I wasn’t sure. I wanted to have sex with him—to feel that connection. Plus, sex with him was just plain amazing. Though it would likely only be a week or two, the thought that he’d forego sex in an attempt to give our relationship a real shot was...fucking sexy, which made me want to have sex with him even more.

“We’re boyfriends, though, right? Just, taking it slow?” I asked.

He nodded with a happy smile, although it was a borderline smirk, I didn’t care. I smiled and slowly nodded—yeah, it’s cool. My boyfriend respected me so much, we weren’t going to touch penises for a while. It was going to be a tough couple of weeks, but that's the price you pay for love.

Love. The word almost made me cringe. Not the word itself, but the fact I’d gone all “Nicholas Sparks” and confessed my love during post breakup sex, or was it pre-make up sex? It wasn’t that I’d regretted it, I just doubted I actually had any clue what love was.

Even if I did love him, was that the appropriate time to say it? Probably not. He did say it back, so there was that. We hadn’t talked about it since, so there was also that. I didn’t have any plans to bring it up—hell no—because I was okay with letting it lay by the wayside for a bit. It was something that needed to marinate a bit more. If he wanted to bring it up, then sure, lets talk about it, however, I was in no rush.

I wondered if he loved me. I didn’t have a preference one way or another, although I’d hoped he was leaning toward that direction. He was, after all, giving up sex in lieu of a healthy relationship. If that wasn’t love, it was damn close.

My ‘to be, not to be’ inner love monologue was interrupted when Kurt announced that dinner was ready. Shane tried to disengage himself, but I held firm. I wasn’t dumb, I knew it was going to be a long time before I had him wrapped around me again so I wasn’t in any hurry to let go.

“Just let me get us to the stairs,” I pleaded.

Shane rolled his eyes, but allowed me to float him toward the shallow end. It was a gradual incline so, with each step I took, the water level became shallower. Again, he tried to let go when I was navel deep, but I wouldn’t let him go. I wondered if I was strong enough to actually walk him out of the water, but I doubted it. I was strong, but not that strong.

“I’m going to carry you out,” I teased as I tightened my grip on his thighs.

He was getting heavier with each step as the ratio of Shave vs. water buoyancy changed. We were at that awkward stage where he was almost completely out of the water, but the water did the scientific, gravitational cling thing where the weight suddenly doubles as the water tries to suck you back down. Realistically, Shane probably weighed two hundred forty pounds, but as I tried to take that last step—the one between him slightly in the water and totally out—he felt like a solid four-hundred pounds.

He felt my knees quake under the weighted pressure and he laughed.

“Are you sure you’ve got this?”

I groaned as I tried to keep him attached to my waist while water cascaded off of us.

“Yeah, but it’d help if you’d try a little harder to stay on.”

Shane’s thighs tightened around my body, but it was too late—he’d slipped and was too low on my hips. I found myself starting to waddle as my stance became wider in an attempt to stop him from sliding off. I was leaning forward as Shane clung to me like a koala bear, although, he looked more like a grizzly bear on a pine tree. I felt Shane’s chest vibrating with laughter as I tried my hardest to inch forward.

“Give up. You’ll never make it,” he laughed.

At that point, he was probably working harder to not fall of me than I was to move us out of the water. My response was interrupted by poolside cheers and whistles of encouragement.

“You can do it, Gordy! Move that brickhouse! Lift with your legs. You’ve got this!”

“You’re too low!” I cried. My fingers were digging into his ass as I tried to hold him up.

I couldn’t help but laugh and I knew we looked ridiculous, but I wasn’t willing to end it, yet. Shane stared at me, his hair was slicked back, and his brown eyes laced with laughter. Seeing him happy and laughing did nothing to alleviate my own laughter.

“I need you higher, on my waist. I’m going to bounce you up like a baby, but I need your help. On the count of three, got it? One—”

Shane slipped down a little more. I was bent almost completely forward with his back hovering over the water, his ass was barely propped on my knees, my fingers losing traction as they barely had a grip behind his knees.

“Two—”

He was laughing so hard the grip around my neck loosened. I couldn’t recall ever seeing Shane so carefree and I felt my heart quicken at the sight. The sideline continued cheering as I watched Shane drop his head back, which caused the tips of his shaggy hair to float in the water.

“No, no, no! I can’t. I’m not ready,” he laughed.

“Three!”

I tried to hike him up, but he was nothing more than a two hundred forty-pound bag of dead weight. It was like trying to pick up a tree stump that was still rooted in the ground. Everything went to hell and we both fell into the water; me on top of Shane. When we came up for air, we were both laughing hysterically while the sideline continued to cheer.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

The water level wasn’t deep—less than three feet. Shane squatted while he wrapped my legs around his waist. Before I had a chance to do anything, he’d effortlessly lifted me out of the water and walked us toward the ladder. Once we got there, he told me to hold on to him. At that point he completely let go of me, it was my arms and legs holding us together as he grabbed the metal rail and lifted us out of the pool. The crowd was going crazy at his brute strength and manliness. I was going crazy, too, for the same reasons and more.

To show off a little more, he carried me to, then through, the buffet line. It was awkward, but we managed. I kept a tight grip on him with my legs and arms while he prepared one giant plate of food for us to share.

I tried to crawl off of him when he sat on the deck chair, but he bumped his legs up, the way you do when a child is on your lap, which knocked me back. That was saying a lot since I was a six foot man and not easily knocked around. At first, I thought it was a fluke so I tried again, and he bumped his legs, again. I looked at him to see what was up, but he was talking to Aaron.

He might’ve been in deep conversation, but I didn’t miss the smirk on his face or the look in his eyes that said he was watching me from his peripheral vision. When I tried to get up a third time, he grabbed the waistband of my swim shorts and held me on his lap. At least, that time, he acknowledged the situation with a wink, so I stayed.

Oliver stood and raised his drink. “I want to make a toast. To old friends!” I looked around at my friends, and also to the AARP, who were genuinely happy to be there. “To new friends, fresh starts, and new beginnings!” I looked at Kurt, Aaron, and Drew and smiled. I flushed when I felt Shane’s hand squeeze my waist with acknowledgement. I also saw a brief exchange, not only between Mickey and Sammy, but also Drew and Nick. No doubt, our group was full of strange couplings, which included Shane and myself. He wasn’t my typical type and I knew, for a fact, I wasn’t his. That, plus all our drama.

As we all ate, Shane and I shared the giant plate of food as I sat awkwardly higher than everyone else, but no one cared. I was filled with something akin to pure happiness as I watched my friends eat, drink, and laugh.

Nelly and Drew were teasing each other while Shane’s fingers rubbed lazy circles on my hips. It was heaven. Not only the touching, but the whole scene. I smiled, brought the drink to my lips, and frowned when there was nothing there. I looked at Shane’s drink and realized his was also low so I reached for his glass and asked if he wanted a refill. He nodded.

After fixing myself a cran-vodka, I reached into the fridge for a fresh beer for my beau. I smiled and chewed my lip. Shane was my beau and, for the first time, I had a very good feeling about it. We both had a lot of work ahead of us, but things felt, calmer.

“Are you ready to stop avoiding us?”

I was startled by the sound of Thomas’ voice. I almost dropped the beer as I jumped in surprise, causing me to bit my lip. I rubbed the swollen flesh with my tongue as I pressed the cold beer bottle to my lip.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied.

The disbelief was clear on the faces of both Thomas and Jack, in fact, they appeared to be more than a little unimpressed by my fib. They shared a few murmurs and side glances of annoyance, which made me nervous.

Okay, maybe I had been avoiding them, a little.

I didn’t have the courage to face them after the reunion. It wasn’t that I thought they’d hate me, I knew they wouldn’t, but I’d told them every little detail about what had happened between Shane and me—the hate he spewed, the one-night stand, all of the sex and pervy shit, how much I liked him, and how much I hated him—only to find out he’s Thomas’ grandson.

DAKS are their grandsons and nephew. It was so embarrassing. They might not have hated me, but the love of family, especially a close-knit family such as theirs, far outweighed whatever it was that our friendship contained. Especially if they’d known just how shitty I was to Shane.

“So, you just disappeared because it seemed like a good idea?”

I turned to face them as I licked the dribble of metallic from my lip wound before replacing the cold beverage against my tender, pulsing skin. They were waiting for my response and I knew, by the look on their faces, anything less than the truth wasn’t going to be taken lightly.

“Shane is your grandson.”

Thomas looked at me like, duh.

“It’s all so embarrassing and complicated. After everything that had gone down between Shane and me, I couldn’t hang out with you guys. Not only was I embarrassed, and Lord knows I am. You’re Shane’s family. That’s weird. And I can’t go crying and complaining to you about your own flesh and blood.”

“We’re not petty. We can see when our own is in the wrong.”

“But he wasn’t the only one. I definitely gave Shane a run for his money when it came to that pissing contest. I was extremely disrespectful, and hurtful, in my own right. If you knew—”

Thomas walked to me and pulled me into a powerful embrace.

“So, what you’re saying is, we not only have to kick their asses, but yours too?” He pushed me back and when I looked at him, he was smiling. He glanced at Jack and shook his head. “What the hell is wrong with this generation?”

“It’s the ripped jeans. When people can’t have enough sense to buy a pair of solid blue jeans, how can we expect them to make solid life choices? Holes in their jeans equals holes in their common sense.” Jack winked when I rolled my eyes at his stereotypical old man response.

“Ah, yes. Kids these days with their baggy jeans. No respect, I tell you. They wouldn’t know good decisions if it hit them in their balls,” I mocked.

They both chuckled and nodded their heads with agreement as if I’d been totally serious. I didn’t want to bring up the fact that I was ninety-nine percent sure their friend was fucking someone younger than their grandsons. I wouldn’t called that a bad decision, but I doubted it would’ve been considered a sound choice, either.

“Are you going to fill us in on the details?”

I pouted. I didn’t want to, but somehow, for a couple of old men, their demeanor was surprisingly demanding. Much to my own regret, I started to sing like a songbird. If I’d expected any sort of sympathy or compassion, I was sorely misled. There were no signs of the obligatory “it’s okay” responses that I’d received from the rest of the DONNAS. No, all I received was looks of disappointment that was so intense, I felt like a puppy trying not to pee itself from shame. All deserved, of course.

“Maybe you’re perfect for Shane after all. I can see the Christmas card now (he read the invisible headline on his hand), ‘Happy holidays. Yours truly, two dumbasses’,” Thomas commented. He dropped his hand and rolled his eyes as Jack gently pushed him off to the side and stepped forward.

Jack. The psychologist. Terrifying.

“Do you really think, after everything you guys have been through, you can make this work?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“What makes this time different?”

Uh, uh.

I wasn’t sure telling him we’d had a good talk and things felt different was an acceptable answer. It was true, but if someone else had tried to feed me that line, I would’ve scooped the bullshit up and shoved it back into their mouths.

“Well, I, uh,” I mumbled. “This time, I’m aware of my faults. I’m not trying to blame Shane for everything, including my issues. I can’t speak for Shane, but I know he knows where he falls short, and he’s working on that. I know things won’t be perfect. I can almost promise you that we’ll make a mess of everything, but I think, under the mountain of our fuck ups, there’s something there. We’re going to take it slow. We both have stuff we need to work out as individuals, and as a couple, but I think we can do it. I want to do it!”

Jack watched me carefully, and after I was done, he took a minute to absorb my words before he nodded.

“Okay. You’ll come to the park, twice a month, and we’ll chat—just you and I—and bring coffee.”

“Therapy?” I asked with wide eyes.

His shrug was sign language for, ‘yeah, and what the fuck are you going to do about it?’

“I think you could use a sound person to talk to in order to help sort the deep-rooted trust issues you have stemming from adolescence. And, if you want things to work on with Shane. You’re going to need all of the tools I can give you.”

“How do you like your coffee?” I grinned, nervously.

*** *** *** ***

AARP had politely instructed us to step inside the house so they could have a private conversation with their kin. We stood and watched DAKS as they stood in a row with their heads hung low while AARP scolded them.

“What do you think they’re saying?” Nick asked, mostly to himself.

As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who’d been avoiding them. The older men had a way of not saying much, but their delivery was powerfully terrifying. If the look of obedience that each of the younger men held was any indication, they felt it, too.

We watched as Drew started to talk very fast and wildly used his hands to help his defense.

While the rest of us chuckled as we watched DAKS point fingers at each other, Olie mocked Drew’s defense.

“I swear officer, I didn’t do anything wrong!” After a few minutes, Olie added. “I still think they’re a bunch of asshats for what they said, or didn’t say, that evening at the bar.”

Even though they all swear it misunderstanding, the way I’d felt when it happened was very damaging at the time—it was almost impossible to let go. As much as I dreaded having to talk to Jack, there wasn’t any doubt that I needed him.

“Do you guys ever think about how mean we are?” Everyone looked at Nelly with surprise. It was a bold question since it came from the most ruthless one among us. “Seriously, we’re fucking terrible. We sit around and tear people down all of the time. Take them (he nodded toward DAKS) for example. Say they had talked shit about us that night in the bar, or best-case scenario, they didn’t instantly stop Davis from doing it. That would’ve been crappy of them, no doubt, but why is what they did worse than what we do on a regular basis? It’s not just to others, either, it’s to each other. Shit, Allé, you talked Donovan into fucking me, but for what reason? Was it because you thought it’d be amusing? I’m not mad about it, but still. We’ve made Sammy feel bad about seeing Mickey, Allé for being kind of weird, and Olie for having a big dick and his jackal laugh. We chewed up and spit Shane out for months, even after he’d stopped being a jerk. Hell, we’re still ripping him to shreds when given the chance. If Shane ever knew the things we’ve said—” he shook his head in disapproval. “Not just Shane either, we get mad at everyone who doesn’t treat us perfectly, yet we’re ruthless mother fuckers when no one's looking. I don’t know—it just seems like a pretty petty double standard.”

Everyone watched AARP scolding while we stood innocently in the kitchen.

“They still should have apologized,” Olie said in defense.

“Ok,” Nelly conceded. “Feel free to apologize to him first, for all the rude ass comments you’ve made.”

Silence.

“I’m not saying they shouldn’t apologize. But none of us are more deserving of an apology than another. In fact, until we can have our own coming-to-Jesus-moment, we don't deserve shit.”

None of us wanted to admit, out loud, that we were a bunch of D-bags. In my defense, I’d already admitted it to Shane, cried over it, asked for forgiveness, and was going to start seeing a retired psychologist on the low-key for my sins. I had a long road ahead of me and, as I watched Shane take his tongue lashing, I knew he did, too. Nelly shrugged and walked away, a few following him. I stayed and watched the men outside.

Shane looked kind of cute when he was in trouble. Those were thoughts I needed to get under control or I’d find reasons to get mad at him just to see his sad puppy dog face. There was something about his brown eyes and his giant stature that made me feel powerful when he felt guilty. I needed to harness that power and use it for good.

I didn’t know why, but I suddenly thought about Shane’s past, specifically his abuse. We hadn’t actually talked about it since everything came to light. I’d handled the whole thing poorly from day one. I was a fucking nurse, yet I let him feel like shit for everything—even after he poured his soul out to me—I should’ve reacted more sympathetically and empathetically. I shook my head. I couldn’t change how I’d reacted in the past, but I could change how I react in the present.

It appeared everyone poolside had solved their issues and were hugging it out. We didn’t try and pretend we hadn’t watched them the whole time as they walked towards us, instead, we smiled and waved as they neared, which made them laugh. I looked at Shane in such a way that asked how it went and his eyes widened, he’d have mental scars from the conversation. As he advanced, he wrapped his arm around my waist and whisked me away from the group as he laughed into my ear.

“That was the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had! Grandparents should never know this much about their grandkids. It should be illegal. In fact, I’m going to write a letter to Congress to get the ball rolling on that.”

I laughed as I watched him try to process everything—his facial expressions were just too funny.

“Was it good though?”

He shook his head violently, “No. It was fucking terrible.” I'd have believed him, but he was smiling. He started to pull me down an empty hall, his voice teased as his hands pulled our bodies flush together, “Make me forget.”

I felt like a high schooler as he pressed me against the wall and made out with me. It was needy but not rushed. Still, I wanted more.

“How long are we, you know, not doing it?”

He looked like he was really considering his response. I was kind of hoping he was horny enough to toss the idea out the window.

“There’s not a specific time frame. I want us to really get to know each other,” he took another moment to think things over. “How about this, when we can beat Kurt and Aaron at a game of Newlyweds, we can have sex again.”

That was stupid. But then again, how hard could it be? They have some pretty standard questions. We could win pretty quick.”

“How often do we play?”

“Once a week?”

My best guess, it would be one to two weeks of no sex. I could do that.

“Sounds good.”

We continued kissing. I was content to kiss him, hell, I would’ve done it all night if he hadn’t pulled away.

“Party’s over. Everyone’s leaving,” he said, slightly disappointed.

After he’d mentioned it, I could hear everyone saying their goodbyes and I knew it was time to go. I tugged on Shane’s shirt.

“I can’t talk you into a nightcap?”

He shook his head and pulled me around the corner and into public view before I could change his mind. We said our goodnights and Aaron reminded us that next weekend (Labor Day weekend) was also the championship baseball tournament. He tried to make a wager, but we all agreed the championship title was enough.

AARP told us they’d be there, along with the rest of the family. Sammy and Mickey openly kissed goodbye, which was both weird and satisfying—they appeared to be happy, if only for a while. Drew walked Nelly to the car, then lingered, but left without giving us a show.

Shane walked me to my car, he even opened the door for me, and gave me a respectable kiss before shutting the door on me. I stared at him from behind the glass and shook my head in disappointment, which made him chuckle. He walked backward as he gave me a cute wave goodbye.

*** *** *** ***

We were lucky the weather started to cool off for the tournament because spending two days in the heat while playing ball didn’t sound like a good time. As much as I loved baseball, I was ready for the season to be over. I wanted my free time back. Between work and practice, I’d barely seen Shane all week.

We didn’t have to play any games on Saturday since both of our teams had killed it during the season, but we still spent the whole day at the field to watch and cheer for the other teams.

Things were chill between Shane and me. We sat together, talked, hung out with friends and players from other teams if they approach us, which was a common occurrence since we’d both become friends with various people throughout the league. I found that if they were remotely attractive, and at all friendly, Shane would put his hand on my thigh or slide it down my calf, or basically anything to let them know we were together. I always smiled at him and he’d pretend he had no idea why I was looking at him strangely.

“You know they’re straight, right?” I asked.

He flipped me off and looked away. I reached out, pulled his face to mine, and planted a kiss on his lips. He was so fucking adorable.

He didn’t go home with me that night, much to my disappointment. I figured if I could get him horny enough, he’d break. The problem was, he wasn’t giving me the chance to get him horny.

*** *** *** ***

Shane picked me up and took me to breakfast before the first game and, once we got to the field, he carried both of our duffle bags as we made our way to the park.

I could’ve fought him on it and demanded to carry my own shit, but it was clear that his love language was acts of service so who was I to deny him his happiness? Especially when the result was his walking around with that gorgeous smile and a glint of pride in his eyes.

As the final day of tournaments started, DAKS watched us play then we watched them. It was obvious by the sheer volume of spectators, that everyone knew it’d be Landry’s vs. Dougie’s Design, and they knew it’d be a good game.

I was eating a hotdog from the field vendor and noticed Shane’s family had started to show up, and by Shane’s family, I mean DAKS’ family as I’m sure they were interchangeable. They were wonderful and friendly and there wasn’t any reason for me be nervous, but I was. Maybe I’d have felt differently if the circumstances around our first introduction hadn’t involved my had-never-been baseball career or the fact I was the recent ex of their beloved.

I was mid-bite when Shelly, Shane’s mother, gave me a ridiculously tight side hug. I froze, both in an attempt to prevent my hot dog condiments from ruining my uniform and from surprise. She hadn’t let go of me when she started rambling a million miles an hour.

“You have no clue how happy I am to see you guys together. I swear, I raised that boy better than he turned out, but I guess that doesn’t matter now.”

She let go, but still held my shoulder with one hand.

“I think you’re just wonderful and a breath of fresh air. You’re so different than anyone Kels has hung around before. I see that look on his face—he’s happy! You did that, you know. He’s always been happy, but he’s down right shining with you. And look at you!” she pushed me back so she could take in all of me. “You’re just a-dor-able and so well put together! Maybe you could teach Kels a thing or two. Maybe you can even get him to wear his cap properly.”

She removed Shane’s cap, that was sitting backward on his head, and tried to put it on normally. Shane fussed like a child having his face cleaned and wildly moved his head in an effort to elude his mother's musings. I laughed at the vision of my beau wearing a baseball cap properly. He looked downright ridiculous and his distaste was obvious. As soon as Shelly let go, he took the cap off and readjusted it to his version of proper—backward.

She frowned at her wasted effort before returning her attention to me.

“Maybe not. Oh, well. You win some and you lose some, right?”

She had no idea.

She continued to talk my ear off only, that time, I joined her and we had a wonderful time. At some point during the conversation, Shane’s father had settled into the row behind us without saying hi or otherwise making his presence known.

I didn’t notice until after Shane had started to get very touchy-feely. He wrapped his arm around my waist and repeatedly peppered the side of my face with kisses. It was when I heard an uncomfortable grunt that I turned to find his dad trying hard not to see us. It must’ve been painful for him to see us being so “faggy” within his field of view. I also saw Shane’s smirk. He enjoyed making his dad uncomfortable.

When it was almost time for our game, we said our goodbyes while everyone wished us luck. Most everyone were friends and, even though Shane’s team had won the three previous years in a row, everyone wanted to see them go down. I think Dougie’s had the majority of sincere encouragements since we were the only team that could make them eat dirt.

I was about to go to Dougie’s dugout when Randy, one of my teammates and go-to pitcher, came running up and tried to pull a too-tight baseball cap over my perfectly styled game day hair.

“Here’s a cap. I’m pitching. You’re center field!” he hollered at me before running off to the next person.

I stood frozen in place with a stone face as I tried to control my inner emotions. Everyone knew I didn’t wear a cap during games. I had my go-to sunglasses, but never a cap—not after spending twenty minutes or more carefully crafting my hair. I couldn’t believe Randy had just ruined everything. I saw the sympathy, with a side of amusement, written on Shane’s face as I bit my lip to control my inner rage. I stared at him with shade, the air felt cooler.

“Fix it.”

He removed the cap, which awkwardly sat on my head, and tossed it to the ground before gingerly running his fingers through my hair.

“It’s not too bad, you can’t even tell anything happened. Plus, you’re going to have a batting helmet on soon.”

I whined while anxiously fidgeting in my spot.

“Just shut up and fix it.”

He finished putting me back together and pushed me toward the direction of my teammates, but not before giving me a quick kiss on the forehead and a swat on the butt. Such a gentleman.

*** *** *** ***

The championship game was the best game I’d ever played in my life. It was the perfect balance between fun and competitive and, possibly for the first time all season, each player played flawlessly. Three innings into the game and no one had scored.

Yarley’s had gotten runners on base, some as far as third, but every hit was met with a flawless play. Yarley’s kept me as busy as fuck in the center field by making me run from one end to the other, diving in the air, and landing and rolling with little theatrics, but always getting the ball where it belonged—to a baseman.

It was just before the top of the fourth when I noticed the incoming group of spectators. They were my kids, my littles! I couldn’t stop smiling as they waved excitedly. They’d been wanting to come and watch a game all summer and it finally happened. I was happy they made it, too. Not only so I could make them proud, but it was always a joy to see them out and about, and there was no doubt outings like that really perked their spirits.

There weren’t too many admitted patients in the group, since that usually meant they weren’t doing very well, therefore unable to go outside, but there were a few. Mostly, it was kids who came to the hospital for treatments. They’d talked their parents into taking them as a very happy surprise to me.

It was funny to watch the crowd react. When they saw me frantically waving at my littles, their parents, and a few nurses from the hospital, the bleachers cleared out so they could all sit down. They were all of the motivation I needed to kill it during the last two innings.

It was a nail biter. Yarley’s had scored two runs and we had scored one. All we needed going into the final inning was one run to tie and two to win. It was obvious that Randy’s arm had gotten tired so I ended up pitching the final inning.

I wished I could say I pitched a no hitter, but that wasn’t the case. They got a couple of good hits and ended up having two runners on base with one out. Shane was up and there was a little part of me that wanted to see him do something amazing, but I also didn’t want to lose.

He smiled, like a dumbass, as he settled into the batter's box—his black helmet covered his head, his hair peeked out from underneath, his thighs flexed as he positioned himself, he raised the bat with precision, and dug his toe slightly into the dirt.

I was torn between desperately wanting to wipe that smirk off of his face and ripping his baseball clothes off—I wanted him to take me behind the storage shed while only removing the minimum amount of clothes as possible. A quick baseball fuck sounded hot as hell!

In the end, I settled for neither. He hit the second pitch, which were flawless by the way (the pitch and the hit), and made it to first. Luckily, we got the runners out before they made it home. I couldn’t congratulate him from the mound without breaking every baseball bro-code ever written, so I settled for a smile and a head nod, which he reciprocated.

Luckily, Aaron was up next. I had no desire for him to do amazing things so I struck him out. Now it was our turn to get our runs.

We had two runners on base and one out when I got up to bat. All I had to do was bring them home, then we’d win. Shane was squatting in position, and looking every ounce the baseball fantasy I’d been dreaming of, as I walked toward home base while twirling my bat.

“It’s the cute one! You look like a man who knows his way around balls,” he smirked.

I shook my head and laughed at his lame line as I put one foot into the box and swung the bat to warm up.

“Oh, yeah. Look at the way you grip that shaft. With a firm hold like that, I have no doubt you’ve been around the bases. You have, haven’t you?”

It reminded me of the first time we played against each other only, that time, it wasn’t offensive. It actually was turning me on.

“As long as the pitcher is good, I have no issues—scoring.”

His grin was wide as he laughed. Even the ump was laughing.

I was distracted by Shane, so when the pitcher sent the first ball flying, I didn’t even swing at the perfect throw.

“That was your fault!” I glared at Shane.

He held up his hand to the pitcher, then stood up and took off his helmet. He stood behind me and pulled me flush against him. He was going to show me, with his body, how to properly swing a bat.

“Here.”

I started to laugh at the spectacle he was making. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen him do. Drawing any sort of attention was forbidden, yet, there he was, practically dry humping me (in full catcher's gear) in front of sixty-plus strangers.

“This is sexual harassment!” I cried, as Shane held the bat in my hands and swung my arms around like a child.

The ump only chuckled.

Players from both teams were catcalling or faux complaining about the scene as they laughed at Shane’s foolishness

“Elbow up. Shoulders back and tight.”

I didn’t know why, but his low, gravelly voice had sent all sorts of crazy signals throughout my body. He pulled my hips back and rammed them into his crotch.

“For crying out loud!” His dad yelled from behind us.

Shane kept one hand on my hip and used his other hand to make sure I was pressed against his chest as he leaned forward, slightly, to use his body to guide me into position.

“You know you’re practically making your dad watch gay porn, right?”

“He’ll survive. Go get ‘em tiger!” he said. With that, he returned to his original position behind the plate.

With Shane’s shameless lesson under my belt, I landed a great hit to center field. Unfortunately, I hit it right to the fielder, who caught it without batting an eye. I was bummed because I didn’t get to bring the runners home. I wanted to make my littles proud. Olie was up after me and hit a homerun. The crowd went wild as he made his way around the diamond before crossing home plate, making us the victors.

In preparation for our win, we had music ready for our victory dance. It was a clip from every song we’d danced to during the entire season. Yarley’s stood off to the side as we danced in remembrance of all of our victories that season.

When the montage was done, the sound tech put on the Cupid Shuffle and we were joined on the field by all my littles, most of Yarley’s team, and quite a few of the fans. I tried to wave Shane over, who was still in full catching gear minus his helmet, but he refused. His earlier public display had been more than enough told hold him over and I knew there wasn’t any way I’d get him back out on his own free will.

I spotted Cal and his friends and nodded toward Shane. They immediately knew what to do and wasted not a moment as they ran and pulled him into the crowd. He didn’t dance as well as he did to Little Einstein’s, but it was still perfect.

As all of my littles gravitated toward him, I couldn’t have pictured a better ending to the season. It was perfect. If you’d told me at the first practice, that by the final game I’d be dating Shane and he’d be dancing with us, I’d have had everyone institutionalized.