Dirty Curve

I’ve been out of the house since five fifteen this morning, and I won’t be home until around seven, being today’s a double header. I planned on dropping a coffee off for Meyer on my way to warmups, but that didn’t happen. After class this morning, Coach said he needed me to come by so we could go over some game film, even though we covered most at our last meeting. If it helps secure the win, though, I’m all for it and he knows that.

My call to Meyer goes straight to voice mail, so I send her a quick text, letting her know I’ll bring dinner tonight so she doesn’t fill herself up on cereal or peanut butter, some of the only items she seems to keep stocked in her house.

At my locker, I toss my shit inside, quickly dress out, and just before I push my locker closed, my phone dings.

My Tutor Girl: I have to work tonight.

Damn, that sucks.

I start to tell her I’ll be there when she gets off when another text comes through.

My Tutor Girl: Bianca is picking me up.

That’s a bummer, but no big deal. I’m glad she figured out a ride rather than walking home like before.

Me: I’ll come over after.

My Tutor Girl: I have to be up really early. Sorry.

I frown at the message.

Sorry. As in, I can’t come over, sorry?

A hint of annoyance flares in my gut, but I shake it off.

I’ll just go to her work tonight, have dinner with her the way I can. She’ll be happy with that.

Yeah, that’ll work.

I hit the field with my team, hanging around in the dugout while they warm up since I’m not pitching tonight – my pitch counts being saved for the next series, being this team is ranked last in the league. It makes for a long ass day, but it’s good to see the second and third string guys come together with the rest of the team and do what needs done to pull out the win. Coach was smart though and left X and Neo on the field to keep things tight and hold our runs allowed number at its record low.

By the time the second game ends, everyone is beat, the sun shining heavier now that we’re deep into May. It never gets too hot here, but we are on a turf field enclosed by a shit ton of metal, so it’s hot. I’m not beat though, I’m pumped.

I skip the showers, quickly change back into my street clothes, and slip out without a word.

“Tobias.”

I screech to a stop, backpedaling until I can see into Coach Reid’s office.

“What up, Coach?”

He frowns, just now setting his clipboard down, his keys still in his left hand as he lowers onto the edge of the desk. “You skipped showers?”

“Didn’t play. Figured I’m good until I get home.” I shrug, glancing up at the clock on his wall.

His eyes narrow. “Why the rush, I was going to offer to take the team out for dinner.”

“Hey, they deserve it, but uh, did you need me for something? ‘Cause, if not, I’m gonna run.”

He stares at me a moment, a slow nod following. “You go ahead. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Coach.”

I’m out the door, and a few minutes later, walking into the diner, but Meyer is nowhere to be found.

The chick cleaning the tables sees me coming and tries to beeline away, but I catch up to her. “Hey, is Meyer here?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “If Meyer were here, I would be off already.”

“O-kay… so she went home early?”

“She didn’t show up, playboy.” She tosses a dish into her bin and yanks it off the table. “Better luck next time.”

Worry slams into me, and I hurry out the door, trying to call her on the way to her house, but it doesn’t even ring. Her voice mail picks it up instantly.

“Fuck.”

I pick up speed, getting to her apartment in record time.

No one answers the door after my first knock, so I tap my knuckles a little harder, and then the lock clicks on the other side.

Meyer slowly pulls it open and the air whooshes from my lungs, right out of me.

“Shit, thank god.” I dart forward. “I thought—”

I freeze after a single step when I realize she has the door drawn closed, nothing but her face and a fraction of her body showing. No part of her is crossed over the threshold of her entryway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m tired.”

“That why you’re not at work?”

Her eyes pop a bit. “Yeah, I … I’m not feeling well.”

“I can go get some soup or something? 7UP, maybe some ginger ale?” Unease whirls in my gut and I don’t know why. “Or I could stay, wake up with Bailey tonight so you can rest?”

She scowls and her eyes drop to the floor. “Bianca’s coming over to help. She was here earlier, so if I’m sick, she’s already been exposed. It’s just … easier. Besides, you have a game tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a game until Monday.”

“Right,” she whispers, still not looking up. “I should go lie down.”

A sudden weight falls over me. “Tomorrow then?”

“I-I’m going to my brother’s.”

My head tugs back. “What?”

“Yeah, he bought us train tickets. We leave in the morning so …”

“You’re going for the night?”

“For the weekend.”

“I leave for Nashville Monday, we’ve got a double, and finish out the series Tuesday, we won’t be home until later that night. Then I turn around for another Wednesday evening.”

“Yeah, I saw. Good luck.”

Good luck?

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes crease and she nods, unable or unwilling to meet my eyes.

“Is this about the picture? I told you, I’ll ask Coach to take it down.”

Her leg begins to bounce, and a shaky laugh escapes her.

“Baby, what—”

“I hear Bailey, I have to go.”

My shoulders fall, but I manage to nod. She said she’s not feeling well, so all I can do is take her word for it. “Okay, Tutor Girl. I’ll see you Sunday night, maybe?”

Her smile is close-lipped, and then she’s closing the door, leaving me on the other side.

Tension pulls at my muscles, but I stretch through it.

Only it all comes back when not fifteen minutes later, on my way home from picking up a plate from the taco truck downtown, I spot Bianca walking across campus with Cooper, headed in the opposite direction of Meyer’s place.

By the time Friday night rolls around, I convince myself Meyer doesn’t want me to feel obligated to stay with her when she isn’t feeling well, so she told me Bianca was going to be there to help out even though that wasn’t the truth.

But then when I texted her to make sure she made it to Milo’s okay, and all I got back was a quick, one worded ‘yes’, I started to trip. It got worse when Saturday’s good night text went unanswered.

If I knew where Milo lived, I might have driven there right then, and offered to be their ride back tonight, but I don’t, which is why I’ve been parked at the edge of the school property, directly in front of the street that leads to Meyer’s apartment’s alleyway since noon.

Hours have gone by, and now the sun has fully set, and still no sign of her, so I try her phone once more with no luck.

Pushing to my feet, I climb inside my truck and do the only thing I can.

I head home, pack for Nashville and climb into bed, but sleep doesn’t come.

Before I know it, my alarm’s going off and exhaustion is in full effect.

My body aches, but I throw myself into the shower, and by the time I’m climbing out, Echo is ready and waiting in the kitchen, a protein shake in hand.

“You look like shit, brother.”

“I feel like shit, my man.” I take the shake, toss a few Vitamin Waters into the bag I’ll take onto the plane with me, and off we fucking go.

I’m going to have to put my headphones in and blast my music to hide the fact that I’m not exactly in the game.

Coach would have my ass for taking my eye off the prize.

But the prize is looking a hell of a lot different nowadays.

Meyer

The last few days have been stressful, the only bit of relief was the fact that I knew Tobias was hours away, so I didn’t have to deal with all that came with him being near. I had hoped he would ease up while he was gone, but that was me trying to convince myself of something I knew was far from true. I wasn’t simply some girl to him.

I was more.

Which is why it hurt like hell when, like clockwork, every day he would text me.

He wasn’t angry or inquisitive. He was sweet and silly.

Told me to tell Bailey things as if she understood or asked questions about what we were doing and how she was. Questions that went unanswered and as a result, they began to shift.

Flirt went to worry, worry to frustration, and that’s when anger set in.

The last one I read was four simple words that about killed me.

‘What the fuck, Meyer?’ he had sent, and after that, I stopped opening them.

But it’s Tuesday now, the day he gets back, and my nerves are high.

I’m on my third student of the day when Tobias’s fifth text comes through.

I should have known better than to ignore them all, because moments after my phone vibrates on the desk beside me, something tells me to look up, and as I do, all the air leaves my lungs.

Tobias is charging up the front steps of the library.

My throat clogs, and I shoot to my feet, shoving my things in my bag in a panic.

“I’m so sorry, I have an emergency. I’ll email you.” I dash away, head around the back side of the bookshelves and sneak out the way he came in.

My palms begin to sweat, and I rush around the side of the building, following along the wheelchair path that leads to the child development center. I slip inside and rush into the bathroom, locking myself in an open breastfeeding room. I drop into the rocking chair, my hands coming up to cover my face.

My lips tremble, tears springing into my eyes and heating my cheeks on their way down.

I take a deep breath, blowing it out. I can’t do this.

I shake my head, staring off into space.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, but when my phone vibrates in my front pocket, I jolt.

With a heavy heart, I pull it out, afraid to look to the screen, but as I do, I find it’s not a text from Tobias, but an email from the admissions office at the University of Florida.

A strange numbness slips over me and I lick my lips.

It’s with shaky hands that I open it up, and as I read over the acceptance letter, it’s as if my insides crack wide open, creating a gaping hole in its wake.

It’s painful and deep and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.

I push to my feet, fighting for air I can’t seem to find, but then I look to the changing table in the corner, and I think of Bailey.

Of the future we can have rather than the one we can’t.

It’s torturous to push away thoughts that consume me, to let go of the hope I so recklessly allowed, but it’s like I said before.

Reality is as sad as it is serene.

I step out of the room, splashing water on my face and bracing on the counter for a deep breath.

Once I have Bailey all checked out, I rush home, praying Tobias isn’t standing on my front porch when we arrive.

Too bad for me, he is.

Shit.