Page 16
Story: The Pucking Wrong Rookie
Asher raised an eyebrow. “I’m just saying, the Venom didn’t even make the playoffs last season. I think they booed us every inning last game.”
“An appropriate response to seeing your ugly face,” I said with a grin.
He had the nerve to chuckmyGatorade bottle at me.
Last season, Asher had spent exactly one game in AAA before he’d been brought up to the majors. He’d set the single season batting average record for a rookie and was set to be the next All-Star of MLB. He was already breaking all the records this season.
In other words, he was doing just fine himself.
“So, you nervous?” he asked, opening my fridge and reaching in toward?—
“Iwillcut off your hand.”
He grinned, turning around with one of Mrs. Bentley’s burritos in his hand. “This is it, isn’t it? The deliciousness you’ve been bragging about all season.”
I held up both hands as I approached him slowly. “Just put it down.”
“You can’t have both. Cheetos or burrito. What’s it going to be?”
It felt like I was being asked which I liked better, tits or ass.
An impossible decision.
“I need that for the game,” I told him, making my best puppy-dog face as I prepared to tackle him.
It was universally known that baseball players were major wusses. I could definitely take him.
Asher unwrapped the burrito with a demonic glint in his eye and before I could pounce…he bit into it.
And then spit the huge bite out.
“What the fuck?” he growled, dropping the burrito and clutching his throat as he threw himself toward the sink.
I watched, flabbergasted, as he turned on the water and frantically started washing out his mouth.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, leaning over to pick up the burrito and examine it.
It took me exactly one second to realize what had just happened.
Something, either sand or kitty litter, was coating the inside of the burrito.
And there was only one person who could be responsible for such an appalling crime, and it wasn’t Lincoln’s housekeeper.
Ari Fucking Lancaster.
As Asher continued to make noises like he was dying, I pulled out my phone and opened the latest group chat.
Me: This means war.
Ari: I just laughed out loud.
Lincoln: ?
Me: I’m serious. I needed that burrito.
Camden: I don’t think I’ve ever been this lost in a conversation.
Lincoln: I doubt that, Hero.
“An appropriate response to seeing your ugly face,” I said with a grin.
He had the nerve to chuckmyGatorade bottle at me.
Last season, Asher had spent exactly one game in AAA before he’d been brought up to the majors. He’d set the single season batting average record for a rookie and was set to be the next All-Star of MLB. He was already breaking all the records this season.
In other words, he was doing just fine himself.
“So, you nervous?” he asked, opening my fridge and reaching in toward?—
“Iwillcut off your hand.”
He grinned, turning around with one of Mrs. Bentley’s burritos in his hand. “This is it, isn’t it? The deliciousness you’ve been bragging about all season.”
I held up both hands as I approached him slowly. “Just put it down.”
“You can’t have both. Cheetos or burrito. What’s it going to be?”
It felt like I was being asked which I liked better, tits or ass.
An impossible decision.
“I need that for the game,” I told him, making my best puppy-dog face as I prepared to tackle him.
It was universally known that baseball players were major wusses. I could definitely take him.
Asher unwrapped the burrito with a demonic glint in his eye and before I could pounce…he bit into it.
And then spit the huge bite out.
“What the fuck?” he growled, dropping the burrito and clutching his throat as he threw himself toward the sink.
I watched, flabbergasted, as he turned on the water and frantically started washing out his mouth.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, leaning over to pick up the burrito and examine it.
It took me exactly one second to realize what had just happened.
Something, either sand or kitty litter, was coating the inside of the burrito.
And there was only one person who could be responsible for such an appalling crime, and it wasn’t Lincoln’s housekeeper.
Ari Fucking Lancaster.
As Asher continued to make noises like he was dying, I pulled out my phone and opened the latest group chat.
Me: This means war.
Ari: I just laughed out loud.
Lincoln: ?
Me: I’m serious. I needed that burrito.
Camden: I don’t think I’ve ever been this lost in a conversation.
Lincoln: I doubt that, Hero.
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