Page 14 of The Battery

Cody

S anta Ana in early July. My first away game against the Winds and two things warred within me: excitement to play and dreading the heat that awaited us that day.

We waited in a queue inside a conference room in our designated hotel.

Curious hotel workers and guests who knew we were there stuck their heads in to observe.

I had my headphones on—the nice ones Leo gifted me—listening to white noise while awaiting my turn to get the key to my room so I could disappear for a minute before heading back out to the stadium.

Agitation at the front of the line drew my attention.

Romo stepped out of the queue and strode up with ease to the clubhouse manager.

I pulled down my headphones and strained my ears to listen to the commotion, but Romo kept his voice low.

After ten minutes of discussion over a conference table, Romo raised his hands to grab everyone’s attention. “Guys! Guys, listen up.” The queue broke apart, nearly forty-five of us fanning around the table where Romo waited. The coaching staff walked up to join him as well as our manager.

The manager took over after Romo quietly explained.

“All right, there’s an issue with the rooms, I guess.

We’ll try and work on it tomorrow but tonight we’re short…

well, a decent amount. We’re pairing up most of the support staff but some of the players are gonna have to bunk up.

Get back in a line and we’ll get you sorted out.

Let’s make this quick. We need to get to the stadium soon. ”

I groaned and pushed my headphones back onto my head.

As a rookie, I’d get paired with one of the Assholes.

Leo had been helping me to separate that side of my anger.

The Assholes—mostly just Shoji—had actually started to leave me alone after they saw their teasing no longer worked.

I’d probably be fine, but still, the last thing I wanted to do after coming back to a room, exhausted, was sleep next to a nemesis.

When it came to my turn in line, I kept my headphones on and thanked the clubhouse manager as he handed me my key.

Room804. I stuffed the key in my pocket and headed back toward the tour bus outside the hotel.

The support staff would take up my suitcase for me.

I had everything I needed for the day in my backpack.

Back on the bus, I found a seat, plopped down, and answered a round of texts from my foster moms. One of them recently discovered how to make GIFs and sent endless iterations of me shoving Quinn.

After I responded to them with enough emoji hearts, I pulled out my e-reader to lose myself in a book.

A distinct smell pulled me from the book after twenty minutes. I caught the tails of Leo’s perfectly tailored suit walking right by me, followed by the cloud of his signature cologne. I closed my eyes. Took in a long pull of it like it was liquor.

It had been only six days since we were ejected from the game with the Brawlers.

The Riders won and we had a post-mortem with the coaching staff the next day.

I only went over to Leo’s place once, despite having at least two other opportunities to go over.

We reviewed and trained as we had been doing, but when it came to pool time… I left. Leo didn’t seem to care.

Admittedly, I did miss it. I truly did not mind thanking him in the way he liked to be thanked. The lack of reciprocation was… expected? I didn’t know what to make of that. I wasn’t offended he didn’t take the time to get me off. But, at the same time… it would have been nice.

I glanced over my shoulder. Leo sat catty-corner behind me, staring out of the window. He turned. Cool, dissociative stare. Blinked once, twice. Then nodded.

I gave him an aw-shucks smile.

I couldn’t hear through the white noise of my headphones, but he pulled a face that suggested he snorted. A barely-there grin and an eye roll. Good enough for me.

Victory , I thought, then turned back to my book. At least he doesn’t hate me.

*

I stood facing Leo in front of room804, both of us holding our keys. I blinked in surprise. He did not.

“Romo didn’t tell you?” he asked.

I shook my head. Leo cocked his head in an “oh well” fashion, keyed the door, and pushed it open. I continued to stand there, dumbfounded, as the door began to slam shut, stopped at the last inch. “You comin’ in, Hill?” Leo growled.

I pushed inside and let the door slam shut.

Standard room—two queen-sized beds. A nice bathroom.

Television on a desk. Tall windows lining the far wall.

Our suitcases stood at the foot of each bed.

Leo already had his on the leftmost bed, unzipping and rifling through.

I did the same in search of pajamas on the bed to the right.

We won against the Winds, though they put up a hell of a fight.

I threw as middle reliever and together with Leo, we prevented Santa Ana from gaining any additional runs.

I was nowhere near as tired as the catcher, but I hung out in the dugout most of the time instead of the bullpen.

The energy there felt better and drained as much as it energized.

Intoxicating, almost like a bad relationship with great sex.

“He’s onto us,” Leo said suddenly. The bass of his voice filled the small space of the room.

I stopped looking through my things. “What? Who? Onto what?”

“Romo,” Leo clarified. “He winked at me when he said he paired us together. All the other veterans got their own rooms.”

A rush of fear surged up my chest. “Is that bad? Do we… do we get in trouble? Are we even allowed to, I mean, y’know…? I mean, the coaches in the minors looked away when I…”

Leo rotated on a slow pivot to level a gaze at me. Damn it.

“Please. Go on.”

I cleared my throat and found some gym shorts to wear as pajama bottoms. “Nothing. I just… um, had a friend . In Providence.”

He sat at the edge of his bed and pushed his suitcase back. Folded his arms. “Spill.”

“Oh, hell no,” I said. I had a thing going with one of the pitching coaches. Nothing serious. We did wine and dine together sometimes. No strings attached fun that amicably ended halfway through the season.

I closed my suitcase and gave him a pointed look. “Unless you want to share your previous exploits?”

I could see the disappointment in his eyes. He just genuinely wanted to hear about my past. A curious look into someone he cared about? Or in need of salacious details?

Leo stood, got what he needed from his suitcase, and put it back on the floor. “Fair enough.”

I made quick work of changing right there in front of him.

The unceremonious display of semi-nudity wasn’t even remotely sexual.

We had already showered at the stadium. Now, an overabundance of fatigue negated any amount of libido that tried to assert itself.

I just wanted to crawl into bed. Bone weary.

“Got some highlight reels,” Leo said and wagged a tablet at me. “Wanna watch?”

Daaaaaamn it , I thought. “Sure.”

He pushed his way onto his bed, then scooted to one side, an innocent invitation to which I ascribed a deeper meaning.

Just a review. Like we do all the time. Right before Blow Job O’Clock.

Our bare toes knocked together as I sat sidelong next to him.

His left side. Along his tattooed leg. My hands had gripped those thighs plenty of times in the past several weeks.

Visceral, in need. Urging him to finish as quickly as possible, as a matter of pride.

I created a competition with myself. How enthusiastically could I fall to my knees for him?

How quickly could I get him to finish because I was that good?

And now, our legs next to each other, shoulders pressed, I wanted time to stretch from minutes to hours.

Despite the showers in the guest clubhouse, I could still smell his cologne.

What’s more, I had come to learn his scent, which remained deeper, beyond the surface of his perfume.

His quiet calm, the projected ease. I felt my heart hammer in my chest.

All just by sitting next to him?

Get it together, Cody.

Leo moved deftly through the menus on his tablet. In seconds he had a string of highlight reels queued up. “The sinker. Your third throw here. I want you to watch your shoulder.”

“Okay.”

He placed the tablet so it rested on his thigh but angled his body partially so he could face me. That damned Spartan beard of his tickled my face as he pointed. “There. See that twitch right before you throw?”

His presence vanished, replaced now by my awareness of a lesson. “Oh. The hell? I didn’t even know I did that.”

“Yeah, I noticed tonight. Okay, now watch when you’re ready to throw a changeup…”

We spent only twenty minutes going through the highlights.

Leo’s voice remained strong and informative while mine waned, punctuated by lion-like yawns every other sentence.

Half-lidded eyes and weary muscles caused me to lean deeper into Leo, as if he were a pillow.

I fought the slow push toward him. He was not a man with whom one cuddled.

But the way he softened the gruff bass of his voice, almost a whisper, his mouth just inches away from my ear…

And the way our long, bare legs lined up, as if our upper bodies could be bare as well.

When the last reel played, and after Leo’s last suggestion, I thanked him and slunk away from his bed.

I thought I felt the phantom of his fingers against the small of my back as I turned away, but who knows for sure?

I crawled into my own bed, now separated by the dual lamps on the nightstands between us.

“I can barely keep my eyes open,” I confessed to him as I dropped my phone onto its charging cradle.

“We should keep reviewing,” he said, his voice strong. Energized.