Page 17

Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

Harrison

Hooking up with Willy again wasn’t intentional. One-night stands are meant to be just that. But in my defense, it’s been two weeks since Charlie, Daniel, and I tagged my parents’ condominium.

Two weeks since the most fun I’ve had since New Year’s.

Two weeks since I last saw them.

I have needs, and Willy is willing to fulfill them.

My bed squeaks loudly as his dick drills in and out of me with the kind of force that shouldn’t be possible. I’m not sure my poor mattress will survive, much less my ass, but I’m willing to take the risk because it feels so fucking good.

“Fuck, yes, just like that. You know exactly how I like it, don’t you?” I cry out.

Willy moans at my words, his grip on my hips tightening as he slams into me harder, burying himself to the hilt.

Stars explode behind my eyelids when he perfectly hits that special spot inside of me.

“Holy shit, keep going. No one rails me the way you do, Willy. You’ve ruined me for anyone else’s cock.” That last part is a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that .

For some reason, whenever I get fucked good, I tend to babble the most outrageous things. Don’t ask.

Willy’s cheeks turn a dark shade of red at the false praise. His hips snap at a relentless pace, and the room fills with the sound of his balls slapping my ass. It isn’t long before I lose my mind, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

My body is completely at the mercy of Willy’s glorious dick. “Shit. You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

“Shit, same. I’m not sure how much longer I can last,” he pants.

His thrusts start to slow down, and I growl. “Don’t you dare stop fucking me.”

I don’t want him to finish too quickly. Once he blows his load, I’ll have to kick him out and face the gnawing emptiness that has taken up permanent residence in my gut. The same emptiness that Charlie and Daniel filled effortlessly in a single night of mindless fun.

As Willy and I reach the peak of our pleasure, my phone rings. Scowling at the interruption, I grab it and glance at the screen.

Danielle.

I know I shouldn’t answer it, but I also know my friend. If I don’t, she’ll keep calling.

“Hey, Danielle, what’s up?” I try to keep my voice low while silently praying she doesn’t hear the obscene sounds of Willy huffing and puffing.

“Harrison, where the hell are you? I’m at Finn Field. Did you forget? I swear to God if you did?—”

Willy changes his angle slightly, and I bite back a moan.

“Ahh, f-fuck. No, I didn’t forget. Something…came up.” Yeah, Willy’s dick when I messaged him to come over and fuck me into next month. “I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

Willy smirks down at me, clearly aware of the effect he’s having on me. He leans in to capture my neck in a filthy kiss, and I’m a goner. My orgasm sends me hurtling over the cliff of ecstasy. I smoosh my head into the pillow to stifle my cries of pleasure.

Through the phone, I hear Danielle sigh in exasperation. “You better be here soon. I mean it, Harrison. I didn’t cancel my hair appointment for nothing.”

I barely register her words, my brain short-circuiting from the mind-blowing sex. Willy’s thrusts become more erratic, and his eyes cross behind his nerdy glasses. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna?—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Willy’s face contorts, and he finds his release.

“I’m timing you. And Harrison?”

Willy slumps down onto me, his body trembling with aftershocks. “Yeah?”

“Next time, don’t answer the phone while you’re getting fucked.”

The energy at Finn Field is electric. The stands are a sea of green and white, and there’s a powerful current that courses through the stadium, making my skin tingle.

While I’ve never been to a baseball game before, I have watched a few on TV.

I think it’s safe to say that a fifty-two-inch screen doesn’t do it justice.

Here, the sounds are sharper, from the roar of the crowd to the sing-songy calls of vendors hawking peanuts and Cracker Jacks. The smells are more vivid too—fresh-cut grass, hot dogs, and the faintest hint of sunscreen.

I push through the throng of fans, glancing at my ticket every few steps to make sure I’m headed in the right direction. Seats behind home plate are primo, or so I’ve been told. But I don’t care about having a great view of the field. I’m here for one reason only. To see Charlie and Daniel.

When I finally spot Danielle, she’s standing at the end of the aisle, with her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping rapidly on the concrete.

Despite the warm day, she has a gaudy green scarf with little white baseballs on it wrapped around her neck.

Knowing her, she knitted it specifically for this occasion.

Don’t kill me floats through my mind as I walk up to her, but I wisely keep it to myself. “How mad are you?”

“What do you think, Harrison?” The vein near her temple bulges.

“I think…you really want to give me a pay raise?” I grin at her with all the innocence I can muster.

With a roll of her eyes, she smacks me on the shoulder and sits down. “You’re an ass.”

“I am.” I sit down beside her.

“And you’re going to be picking up an extra shift to make up for your forgetfulness.”

“Okay.”

“But I still love you.”

I smile. “I love you too.”

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, care to tell me why we’re here?”

“I have my reasons.” I scan the field. It’s a circus of activity. On the sidelines, a coach blows a whistle, and a few players sprint up and down the foul line, their feet kicking up clouds of dust. The sight of it pumps even more adrenaline into the crowd.

As we wait for the game to start, neither of us says a word. It’s a comfortable kind of silence. One that can only happen when you’re with a friend who knows you’re not a fan of small talk.

My breath hitches when the two guys I’ve come to watch walk out onto the field. They have no idea I’m here, and I prefer it that way. I want to observe them in their natural habitat.

I also want to see them in their uniforms because, oh Mylanta, the images on Google do not do them justice. Not by a long shot.

The forest-green uniforms are a thing of beauty, like something out of an old-timey baseball movie. Each player’s number is stitched in white on the back, and they wear knee-high green socks and green caps that I bet look even better when worn backward .

Charlie’s uniform hugs every inch of his tall, lean frame.

His broad back tapers down to a narrow waist, and his long legs move him across the field with effortless ease.

The short sleeves showcase his muscular forearms—the kind you get from years of hurling fastballs—and his perpetual bedhead peeks out from under his cap, giving him a boyish charm.

Daniel, on the other hand, exudes nothing but power.

Where Charlie is lean and lanky, Daniel is stocky and solid.

His catcher’s gear accentuates his hulking frame, transforming him into a warrior ready for battle.

The chest protector stretches across his wide chest, the shin guards hug his thick calves, and the mask rests atop his head like a crown.

When he does a few squats as a warm-up, his thighs strain against the fabric of his pants.

I bite my lip to stifle a groan. Get it together, Harrison. You can’t think about them as if their pieces of meat.

But I do. I have been for weeks now, ever since that night in the holding cell left me weak in the knees and wanting more.

I try to shake off the impure thoughts and focus, but it’s impossible. Not when Charlie and Daniel are right there in front of me, looking like every gay man’s wet dream.

“Earth to Harrison.” Danielle waves a hand in front of my face.

I blink and turn to her, dazed. “What?”

“I said, do you know them?”

“Know who?”

“Them.” She points to Daniel and Charlie, who are doing some sort of friendship handshake. It reminds me of something out of The Parent Trap , and it has caught everyone else’s attention as well. I smile as the Jumbotron focuses on them being complete and utter goofballs.

My smile instantly fades when I glance back at Danielle to see her staring me down with narrowed eyes.

“Well?”

There’s no use lying to her. So, I tell her the truth. Just not all of it. “I know them. ”

I’d love to say they’re my friends, but as one can see, I don’t have many of them. And can you even call someone a friend if you haven’t spoken to them in weeks? If the last time you saw them was when you were committing a crime?

Danielle glances back up at the Jumbotron. “They’re hot.”

I snort. “You think every guy in a uniform is hot.”

“Yeah, well…those two are next level.”

She’s not wrong.

The announcer’s voice crackles over the PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Finn Field!” Applause abounds. “Today, the Ashford University Green Wolves will be taking on the Columbia Lions!”

The applause turns into a mix of cheers and boos. A strange flutter tears through my chest. Is it excitement? Anticipation? I can’t be entirely sure it’s not both. I like it, though. A lot.

The teams stand up in their respective dugouts for the national anthem. As everyone’s eyes turn to the flag, mine briefly flit over to Charlie and Daniel. Caps over their hearts, faces solemn as the familiar tune plays over the scratchy speakers.

We’re close enough that I can make out Daniel’s long lashes and the fact that Charlie’s nose isn’t as straight as I thought it was. I wonder how it got that way. Did he take a baseball to the schnoz? Or a fist to the face? Either way, it makes him deliciously handsome.

When the anthem ends, the Green Wolves flood the field. Charlie strides to the mound with a fierce determination in his eyes. He toes the rubber, his cleats digging into the dirt, and then accepts the pitch selection.

He steps back with his right foot. His left leg lifts high, knee bent at a ninety-degree angle. The ball is gripped tightly in his right hand, hidden inside the glove on his left.

As his leg descends, his arm whips forward in a blur of speed and power. His hips rotate, adding momentum to the pitch. Muscles ripple beneath his uniform.

Suddenly, the ball explodes from his hand, becoming a white streak in the air. It hurtles toward home plate with dizzying velocity, the seams spinning so fast they disappear.

With a resounding smack, the ball slams into the pocket of Daniel’s mitt, dead center. He barely moves, his arm absorbing the shock like a professional. The umpire signals the obvious—strike one.

The crowd erupts into a round of applause and whistles. I’m on my feet before I realize it, clapping until my hands sting. Pride swells in my chest, though I have no right to feel it. Charlie’s not mine to be proud of.

But God, do I want him to be. He and Daniel both.

As Charlie receives the ball back from Daniel, a small smile tugs at his lips. It’s one of confidence, of a man in his element. He knows he’s good. Hell, everyone in the stadium knows he’s good. Myself included.

Daniel settles back into a squat behind home plate, his muscular legs spread wide, his ass nearly touching the ground.

He’s ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

His right hand disappears between his thighs, and to the average spectator, it appears as if he’s doing sign language.

In a way, he is. A language only he and Charlie know.

The next batter steps into the box, tapping the tip of the bat on the ground before he brings it over his left shoulder. His eyes narrow, trying to pick up any tells in Charlie’s delivery.

But there are none. Charlie’s poker face is impressive.

Another blinding pitch whizzes toward the plate. The batter swings, but it’s a split second too late. The ball is already nestled safely in the webbing of Daniel’s mitt.

I watch, mesmerized, as Daniel tosses the ball back, a perfect throw, right into Charlie’s waiting glove. No wasted movement, no unnecessary flourishes. Just pure, unadulterated skill.

As Charlie winds up for another pitch, I find myself holding my breath. The anticipation is palpable, electric. Every eye in the stadium is glued to the mound, waiting to see what magic Charlie will unleash next .

He doesn’t disappoint. The ball comes screaming in, painting the outside corner with pinpoint accuracy. The batter’s knees buckle as he flails at it helplessly, nearly falling over as the ball being caught echoes around the field.

The crowd leaps to their feet, a deafening roar filling the air. I’m right there with them again, screaming myself hoarse. Danielle shoots me a bemused smirk from her seat, but I don’t care. I’m too caught up in the moment.

As everyone settles down to see if Charlie can keep the momentum going, I realize something.

I don’t want to be Charlie McManus and Daniel Hollingsworth’s friend.

I want to be more .