Caught (14 page)

Top of the 2
nd

Chace

Our first practice was a bitch.  Despite me being in decent shape, I manage to make it through with only puking twice.  Trust me, that’s an impressive statistic.  Some of the freshmen literally threw up after every drill while the upperclassmen just laughed.  College ball is some serious shit.

Once coach calls practice to an end, I collapse onto the ground with my water jug.  My muscles are screaming at me. I want to move in the direction of the training room for an ice bath, but I can’t seem to muster the energy to make it happen.  The majority of the guys are packing their bat bags and heading out while I’m stuck in place, envious of their ability to move.

Steven approaches me with a grin on his face.  “Whatcha think of that?” he asks with a laugh.

“Brutal.” I take a sip of my water.  “I’ve never seen something move so fast in my life.”

“Practices are planned right down to the transitions.”  He tosses me a towel.  I use it to wipe the sweat from my brow.  “Coach runs a well-oiled machine. You get used to it.”

“I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.”

Steven nods.  “So do you have any plans tonight?”

“Just homework.  Why?”

“Some of the upper-class players throw an annual welcome back get together.  We try to keep it small, and we only invite a couple of the freshman.”

I realize that this is my opportunity in; that I’m being welcomed into the inner circle of the baseball team.  “Just a few?” I ask, hoping to get a bit of clarification.

“Yeah, until we’re sure they’re gonna stick around.  But we don’t have any doubts about you.  You’re an Eagle through and through, that’s pretty obvious to all of us.”

I rub the back of my neck.  “Thanks…”

“So, you wanna come?”

“Absolutely.  Where and what time?”

“8:00. I’ll come pick you up.”

I nod, remembering that I should at least see if Quinn can come.  She is my best friend after all.  We’re both in Boston.  I should be helping her extend her social circle.  That roommate of hers can’t be the only person she hangs out with here.  She needs more than that.  “Would it be alright if I brought one of my friends?”

Steven lifts an eyebrow at me.  “One of the hot ones?”

I nod.  Maybe inviting Quinn isn’t such a great idea after all.

“Sure, bring her along.  We could use some fresh meat around.”

Without realizing, I shake my head.  It’s just a split second before I catch myself.  I look at Steven, who is still glaring in my direction.  He’s onto me. He was onto me before I even got here.  This is definitely Lester’s doing.  I should’ve known better.  

“Hope you know what you’re doing, Donahue.  You’re supposed to be figuring that shit out.” 

“I got it under control.”

“Good,” he states firmly.  “Bring her.”  And just like that he walks away.  Guess it’s not just college ball that’s cut throat.  It’s college in general.  There’s no more pussy footing around.  People tell it like it is without any regard to feelings.  Now I’m starting to understand why everyone calls college the stepping stone to real life.

I manage to struggle to my feet.  My muscles scream in protest the entire time, but once I’m up I’m able to move freely.  I pack my bag, tossing it over my shoulder before heading into the trainer’s office.  I’m hoping that an ice bath can cool off more than just my muscles.  God knows my head could use it as well.

***

My cellphone feels like it weighs a hundred pounds as it rests in my hand.  I’ve contemplated my next move ever since I got back to my dorm room and got out of the shower.  I tossed it on my bed a few times, calling a silent surrender only to pick it back up seconds later.  The back and forth is maddening, and I shoot off a text to Quinn before I can talk myself out of it.

Me: What are you doing tonight?

A few seconds pass before those three little dots pop up indicating that she’s typing out her response. For whatever reason, those few seconds seem like an eternity. 

Q: Converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.

Her response is reassuring, and I’m hopeful that we’re finding our way back to some sort of normalcy.

Me: Sounds like a hell of a good time, but I think I have a better option for you.

Q: I’m listening.

Me: First baseball party of my college career.  Thought I could use a familiar face to keep me sane.

And then…nothing.  Radio silence.  Minutes tick by, and with each second my panic increases slightly.  Did I say something wrong?  I scroll back through and re-read my messages.  No mistakes to be found.  Maybe she read into something the wrong way…maybe I gave the wrong idea.

This is why I hate text messaging.  People never interpret the messages the way they’re supposed to be interpreted.  It’s infuriating.  Just as I’m about to pick up the phone and call her my phone chimes with an incoming message.

Q: All changed and heading your way.  Meet you outside in ten.

Putting my cellphone into my pocket, my heart thunders against my chest so hard that it stops me in my tracks.  I chalk it up to the excitement that we’re on our way back to our friendship, but there’s a part of me that wonders if it’s something more.

Taking a deep breath, I do a once over in the mirror.  It catches me by surprise since I’ve never particularly cared about my appearance.  I’ve never really had to care because girls just seemed to be drawn to me regardless.  I don’t mean that in an asshole way, it’s just the way it’s always been.  But now, when I really shouldn’t care, I find myself caring more than I actually should.

Once outside I take a seat on the stoop in front of my building.  As the minutes pass I find myself mindlessly picking at the skin surrounding my nails.  “You know you shouldn’t be doing that.  Your mom would be pissed to think you were losing your callouses.”  Already smiling, I look up to find Quinn standing in front of me.

Mom is always giving me shit about picking.  She knows I end up tearing the patches of rough skin and therefore negatively affecting my ability to grip the baseball.  So, needless to say, she has good reason.  I hop to my feet.  “I hope you’re not going to call and rat me out.”

“Don’t worry, Chacer,” she whispers. “Your secret’s safe with me.”  I laugh, reveling in the fact that she’s joking with me.  But once the words leave her mouth, I can see her cheeks redden.  At least she’s trying to get things back to normal.

I decide to play it cool, too.  “Praise Jesus,” I joke.

She looks at me with one eyebrow lifted high.  “So, what the hell are you dragging me to?”

“To be honest, I don’t really have any idea.  All I know is that this guy named Steven invited me.  Says the team does it every fall as a sort of welcome back gig.”

“Sounds like a sausage party to me.”

Smiling, I shake my head.  I never know what’s going to come out of her mouth.  “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.  I mean, for me it’s great.  Lots of options.  However, I’m a little concerned as to why you’d be interested in hanging out with just a bunch of dudes.  You have something you want to tell me?”

I bite back the snarky comment I want to spew out when Quinn mentions having other options.  But instead I find something more appropriate to say.  “No, Q.  Still straight as an arrow.”

“Phew!” She wipes fake sweat from her forehead.  “I was dreading having to break the news to Finley.”

I was so focused on my conversation with Quinn that I didn’t notice Steven approaching us until he spoke.  “Hey, Donahue,” he says, stopping beside me. 

“Steven.”

“Who’s your friend?” he asks without wasting any time.

I grind my teeth and feel my jaw muscles clench.  “This is Quinn.  My best friend from home.”

Steven gives me a curious look and I do my best to be nonchalant as I shrug.  I watch on helplessly as Steven and Quinn shake hands and he instantly begins shamelessly flirting. Immediately I want a drink as I realize I just gave him the go ahead to pursue her. 

“Alright then,” Steven says once he’s done getting a laugh from Quinn.  “Let’s get you two to your first BC party.”  He holds his arm out to Quinn for emphasis and she hesitates.

Don’t do it, Q.  You’re better than him.  Don’t do it.  Don’t you dare loop your arm with his.

She smiles and slides her arm through his and they start walking in front of me.  I grunt to myself and follow them, keeping a few steps behind so that no one will notice the black cloud that suddenly surrounds me.

The two of them chatter incessantly across campus.  The sounds of their voices becomes like nails on a chalkboard to me, and I seriously consider stuffing my fingers into my ears as we approach an entrance to another dorm hall.  “Here we are,” Steven says, opening the door with his key card.

“Thank God,” I mutter quietly.

“What’d you say?” Quinn asks as she looks over her shoulder at me.

“I asked, where’s the beer?”

Both of them stop in their tracks and look at me.  Quinn’s eyebrows pinch together just before she turns her head forward and walks through the door.  I continue to follow them, cursing myself silently.  I can hear the party before I can see it.  We turn the corner and the people are already milling about in the hallway, spilling from a dorm room with its door open.  Steven pushes us through the crowd and into the room, which is filled with just BC baseball players and a few girls.  “Better close the door in a bit, Sam.  They’re spilling pretty deep now.”

The guy, Sam, is a starting centerfielder for us.  He looks up and nods.  “I’m gonna give it another ten.  See who’s out there and decide who can come in before I shut it up tight.”

Steven grabs three beers and hands one to Quinn and I.  “Make yourself at home, guys.  Grab whatever you want to drink.  Beers are over there, and there’s Jello shots in the cooler.”

“Thanks,” Quinn says sweetly to him. “This is awesome.”

I want to barf, but instead I excuse myself and head towards the cooler, listening to the two of them continue their cat and mouse game as I walk away.  Jello shots will be my friend tonight.  I flip open the lid and grab three.  One for me, one for my ego, and one to quiet my brain.  Keeping my back to Quinn and Steven, I figure I’m just wasting time if I wait, so I open them up and loosen them with my tongue.  The first one goes down relatively smooth, the second two not so much, and I chase them with a long haul of beer.

Plopping down in a lawn chair next to the cooler, I decide that this will be my spot for the night.  It’s got everything I need.  A little space and a whole lot of liquor.

Some of the guys come over and chat with me, and I’m thankful for the distraction so that I’m not brooding all night.  I act interested in what they’re saying, but somehow my eyes always travel across the room to Quinn and Steven.  She tosses her head back in laughter at something he says, and I swear I can feel my blood boil.  I grab another shot and immediately toss it back in hopes of calming my nerves.

“Chace?”

“Huh?” I look over at the guy to my left.  I can’t remember his name.  He’s our backup catcher.  I should know his name, but I just can’t recall it for the life of me.

“Did you hear me?”

He said something?  “No, man, I didn’t.  What’d you say?”

“I asked what the deal is with you and that girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she’s free for the taking, right?”

I hated to answer a question with another question, but something about this felt weird.  “Why do you ask?”

“I ask for quite a few reasons actually.  But mostly because Steven is the biggest dog I know, and I’ve noticed you can’t take your eyes off her.  This is concerning to me, because the team doesn’t need any drama.  Especially from some freshman, if you catch my drift.”

Shit.  “Nah, Quinn and I are just friends.”

“You sure about that?  Because I think the vein on your forehead is about to burst.”

I consider playing it cool and brushing off his statement, but something deep down makes it so that I just can’t.  So instead I reach into the cooler and grab a few more Jello shots.  I hold one out to the dude and shrug. 

He sighs and takes the shot from my hand.  “You better not start any shit tonight, Donahue.”

***

My hand slides into the cooler and I feel around.  My hand hits nothing but ice and plastic.  No more Jello-y shots of goodness.  The cooler has run dry, so to speak, and so has my patience.  The more drinks Steven and Quinn have, the more handsy he gets and the more she laughs.  My breaking point is close to being reached, and I’m pretty good at recognizing my limits, so I know it’s time for me to graciously bow out.

Standing up, the alcohol rushes to my legs, and I chuckle as I make my way through the semi-crowded room toward the bed where Quinn and Steven have been perched all night.  Sober me would have just left.  Drunk me just wants to poke the fire a little bit more.  They don’t even notice me as I approach, so I clear my throat in order to get them to look at me.

“I’m ready to go,” I slur.  “You coming with me, Q?”