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THREE

PARKER

“ D id you know about this?” I hissed to Ace as I slipped into the chair next to him.

He didn’t answer. He was too focused on what was happening at the front of the auditorium, where Coach Chase was gathered with a couple of the other coaches, as well as Riley Rivers, one of the alternate pitchers.

At least his debrief hadn’t started yet.

“What’s going on?”

Ace shook his head. “Don’t know, and I can’t lip read from this angle.”

“Cool, anyway, did you know about this?” I shoved my phone in front of him.

He glanced down briefly, before looking back at me. “What?”

I swiped my screen open, again. “This. This email.”

Taking my phone, he scanned the words. From the way his eyebrows shot up I could tell this was the first time he was seeing it too. I didn’t appreciate the smirk growing on his face, however.

“Shit, bud.” He shook his head. “That’s rough. Is that because of Boomer?”

My mouth dropped. Fuck. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there was a definitive cause behind this beyond HR being a giant fucking pain in my ass.

Boomer Jones, goddammit.

“Do you know if anyone else has seen it?”

Ace shrugged, his attention back on whatever conversation Coach was having. “Dunno. No one reads their emails, do they? Probably why they sent it.”

I jerked to the right as Tanner dropped onto the bench next to me. Next to me was incorrect, landed on me was more accurate.

“Tan, Jesus. I’m literally sitting right here.”

“I know, sorry, got too excited.” He turned to me, his eyes wide in excitement. “Well?”

“Well what?” I grumped.

“Er…Scout. When’s the first date?”

“Never.” I groaned through the solid clench of my jaw and opened my phone again, handing it to Tanner. “Did you know about this?”

As Ace’s had done, Tanner’s brows shot up as he read over the email. “Whoa. This is fucked up.”

“Yeah.” I glanced down, scanning the words for the dozenth time searching for a loophole, for anything which meant I could ask Scout on a date without having to sign a declaration about it first.

But nothing. Nada. Zip.

Next to me, Tanner was shaking his head, reading the email on his phone.

“What’re you going to do?”

“I dunno.”

“You still like her though, right?”

“Yes, Tan, I still like her. My feelings haven’t changed in the last twenty minutes since I read this.”

“So what’re you going to do then?”

“I haven’t got that far yet.”

He was just about to jump in with another response, but instead, Coach’s voice boomed from the front. He was so loud, that sitting in the back row of the auditorium wasn’t just about not appearing like a brown nose. It was to save on hearing loss. Besides, we’d already done our time on the front row. That was rookie territory, and this season’s influx were all primed and ready.

“All present and correct?” he asked, not waiting for a response. “Good. Everyone, sit your asses down, and listen up.”

It took longer than it should have for silence to descend, the energy in the room was buzzing hard off our win. The main doors to the auditorium clanged back and forth as the last few guys rushed in to take a seat, sprinting up the steps in case they were late, only to slow down when they realized there were still half a dozen others behind them.

Tanner’s hand shot in the air as Lux walked in, taking the steps two at a time to where we’d saved him a seat. He looked like he’d come straight from the field, but the game ended an hour ago.

“Where’ve you been?”

“With Radley.” He grinned.

I held in the eye roll. Of course he had.

I liked Radley, I liked her a lot. She was a sweet girl, and she was fun to have around the apartment. It also made me happy that my boy Lux was happy. On the flip side—without sounding melodramatic—it only served to remind me how completely alone I was.

I mean, not alone alone.

But I’d spent the whole of this year so far, and a good portion of last year, counting down the days until I could ask Scout on a date. Getting to this point had not been the easy path it should have been, and now this fucking form was making it even harder.

It was all my fault.

I should have asked her out the first time I’d laid eyes on her.

I still remember the day. I was walking back in from practice and the social team had set up a table by the doors with a sign next to it that read: apples or oranges?

On the table had been two huge crates of both, Scout had been standing in between them, long blonde hair tied up in a thick ponytail of waves, swaying down her back.

It had been her eyes I’d noticed first; big and blue, like staring into an ocean, but with a warmth you don’t always get with blue eyes. Mesmerizing. Her smile came next, beaming from ear to ear with just that hint of challenge because she knew exactly what she was about to ask—juggle the fruit, and let us film it.

She was smart, too, lining up Ace first, who was easily the most competitive of us.

Like giving candy to a baby.

Ace being Ace picked up three oranges, tossed them in the air, and we all watched as they fell to the ground when he missed them. Scout’s laugh peeled out—genuine and infectious—as Ace sprinted after one of the oranges that had rolled down the pathway.

“You next,” she’d said eventually, with a twinkle in her eye and even more of a challenge to her tone.

Could I do better, or worse?

I had never, in any moment before or since, been grateful to my mom for forcing me to take part in Westlake Elementary’s second grade talent contest. The one where I’d practiced nonstop for a week trying to juggle the baseballs that I always left lying around the house.

I picked up three apples and tossed them in the air. On the second rotation, I picked up a fourth, then fifth, at which point Ace snatched one away to eat, and I nearly dropped the rest.

“Show-off.” She laughed.

That was the day my crush on Scout Davison grew roots.

I meant to ask her out. I did.

I wanted to. But every time I planned it, something got in the way. Ace’s Opening Day, or one of her colleagues, or our insane work schedule, or the absolute douche-nozzle she started dating at the end of last summer.

I lost my chance. It was possible I sulked (not that I would ever admit it) for weeks. Okay, months .

Right before Spring Training there’d been rumors of her and the douche breaking up; I waited with bated breath for confirmation. Then, this morning, like a ray of sunshine on a rainy, miserable day, I heard the news.

Scout was single once again.

My plan not to waste any time in asking her out, lasted until approximately thirty minutes after today’s game ended and Coach alerted me to my emails.

My jaw clenched again.

“Okay, settle down,” Coach started, then stopped.

The door banged back and Jupiter Reeves walked in and whispered something to Coach, who nodded and made his way to the back like he had all the time in the world. Jupiter Reeves did things on his own schedule.

“Gentlemen.” He nodded to us, taking a seat next to Lux.

“Okay, can we begin now? No one needs a bathroom break? Snacks? Drinks,” asked Coach, moving to the whiteboard behind him.

“I’ll take some Twizzlers, Coach,” called someone nearer the front, which caused another wave of chatter.

Coach responded in his usual manner—to stare until we were silent—though the corners of his mouth were twitching in amusement. “Okay, first off. You did good today. A game in the bag, we are one for one.”

The energy in the room exploded. Whoops, cheers, hollers all echoed off the walls.

“Home runs, stand up. Weston…King…Jones…Velasquez…” Each time he called a name he tossed a piece of candy our way. I caught a packet of Skittles and ripped it open. “Where’s Watson?”

Ace stood up slowly. I could tell he wasn’t sure whether he was about to get called out for last year’s Opening Day performance, even though he’d more than made up for that. A Snickers was launched through the air.

“You pitched good. Let’s keep it up.”

“Yes, Coach,” he mumbled through a giant bite of chocolate and peanuts. “Man, I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” Coach held his palms up, calling for silence once more, “now let’s get down to business and what we can improve on for tomorrow.”

For the next twenty minutes, he proceeded to rip apart everything we’d done. How we’d let the Braves score, how we’d not been paying enough attention to where the ball was. Twice it had been missed in the outfield and dropped, allowing the Braves to make too many runs off the bases.

Ace, who’d he called out earlier for doing a good job, was now being ripped apart for showing off with too many fastballs. I shrunk down in my seat hoping that I wouldn’t also get picked on for calling them, because he was only doing what I’d suggested. More than once we’d gone against the coach’s guidance, even though they’d resulted in a strike.

Next up on the chopping board was Boomer Jones, first base, who’d fumbled a catch.

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Is he talking about the game we just played? This sounds like a blood bath. Was he this pessimistic last season every time we won?” whispered Tanner.

I shook my head. “Nah, this is because of Shepherd. He wants the trophy.”

“He needs to start by getting rid of that goddamn plinth in the lobby. Gives me the heebie-jeebies every time we pass it,” added Tanner ominously, letting out a dramatic shudder.

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay, housekeeping time.” Coach slapped his clipboard loudly. “It’s the start of the season and I’m only going to remind you once. This is not a frat house. The locker rooms are not there for you to dump all the crap your wives and girlfriends won’t let you take home. The laundry is not for your personal use…” He pulled his glasses off and peered over everyone until his eyes landed on Ace. “Watson, we’re clear on this, right? Get yourself a housekeeper.”

A chuckle went through the auditorium.

For reasons I still hadn’t figured out, Ace had a habit of bringing in his laundry. I think it was because he used to have a crush on a girl who worked in the maintenance team, but he categorically denied it. Though seeing as it stopped once he got together with Payton, evidence pointed to the contrary.

“Last item on the agenda. For those of you who don’t read your emails, which I assume is most of you, you have all received a note from HR.” Immediately half of the guys pulled their phones from their pockets. “You will see that from today intercompany relationships need to be declared to human resources.”

I could see the back of Boomer Jones’s head.

He was a good guy, he was fun to have a drink or two with. He’d been over to our apartment for a few games on PlayStation. I normally liked him. Not today though. Not today . Whoever was sitting next to him shoved him playfully in the shoulder.

Yeah. This was because of him.

“Let me make one thing very clear,” Coach shouted over the volume of everyone snickering and jeering at Boomer. “I absolutely do not want to hear about this. I do not care who you date. Just keep it out of the locker room. King, that means you too.”

I groaned. I knew it was too much to hope I’d get away without being singled out in the meeting. “What does that mean?” I grumbled.

I thought it was under my breath, or maybe Coach was better at lip reading than Ace was, because he shouted, “You know exactly what it means. And I don’t want it in my locker room.” He stood there, his eyes locked on me, until everyone else got bored, and decided it was time the meeting finished.

A couple of the guys stood up, and the chatter immediately kicked in as everyone else took their lead.

I leaned over Ace’s shoulder so the three of them could hear me as we made our way out of the auditorium. “Was he talking about Scout?”

Tanner nodded. “I’d say so.”

“Seriously, how does everyone know about Scout?” I hadn’t made it that obvious, surely.

“Dude, you cried in the locker room when you found out she had a boyfriend.”

“No, I did not.”

I didn’t. I absolutely didn’t. I’d almost cried, because we’d lost by a run. And it had been so close. And I hadn’t cried. Just gotten a bit sniffly. But it was because of the run, nothing else.

So what if I’d seen Scout with that dickhead on the way back to the locker rooms.

Ace nudged me before I fell down my rabbit hole.

“So, you gonna sign this form thing?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, I just found out about it. Not exactly the best way to start dating. ‘Hey, babe, can I get your signature before I take you out.’ Maybe this whole thing is stupid.”

“You think?”

“Nah. Uh-uh. No. No way,” a deep voice growled from behind us. “Not happening.”

Tanner and I spun around.

“You okay there, Reeves?”

“I will be if you stop going on about Scout Davison,” he snapped. “But we all know that’s not going to happen, don’t we? I mean, I shouldn’t even know her fucking name. But I do. You know why?”

From the way he was glaring, it seemed like he wanted to answer his own question, so I stayed silent.

“Because you don’t stop going on about her. Therefore, you’re going to see this thing through. And ask her on a date. And sign that goddamn form. Understand.”

I waited to see if he was going to add any more, or if I was still expected to keep my mouth shut. Eventually, I moved his finger out of my face.

“Yeah, I don’t think you can dictate?—”

“I can if it means we all get to have a season without you sulking like a little girl.”

My teeth gritted. “I did not sulk.”

“You sulked.”

I schooled my mouth into a hard line before I pouted and took another step forward out of this room and away from Jupiter Reeves. “What would you know anyway? You don’t have to sign one of those stupid forms.”

Come to think of it, was he signing a form?

Jupiter was in a relationship with Marnie Matthews, the Lions’ head of baseball science.

“I am actually. The email said all players .”

“You were already in a relationship.” I huffed, the tip of my sneaker squeaking on the floor where I was scuffing it. “Doesn’t count. Everyone already knows.”

“Everyone already knows with you too,” he shot back.

“Not the same thing, and I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” I snapped. “I’d prefer a little privacy when I ask her out, which isn’t going to happen now I have to involve HR. Is it?”

I didn’t even want to think about what would happen when everyone in the club knew I’d asked Scout on a date. Lux was getting enough shit because he was dating the president’s daughter, but at least Radley was only here on game days and she came with armed guards who always added an air of intimidation.

Scout worked here, the guys would see her every day, they’d see us every day, and I didn’t want to put that on her.

These guys were my buddies, and we all joked around. I just didn’t want them to joke around with Scout.

“Did you even read the email, King?”

“Yes. A hundred times.”

“Then you’ll have seen it said confidential. No one needs to know you’ve signed it. No one needs to know you asked her out. The only reason everyone is well aware you’ve got the hots for her is because, as I already said, you spent last season sulking.”

“Stop fucking saying that.” I looked to Tanner. “I didn’t sulk. Did I?”

Tanner looked at his feet.

“Tan? Tanner?”

“Um…” His mouth curled in a grimace, and his shoulders lifted in a halfhearted shrug. “Kinda, but it’s okay?—”

I scowled at him. Not like he hadn’t been sulking enough the past few months.

“Parker. It’s not a big deal, and I assure you no one cares, especially me. Just please, for the love of god, ask her out so I never have to hear about it ever again ,” Jupiter added, before giving me one last shake of the head and pushing through the four of us, jogging down the remaining steps, muttering under his breath about getting his locker moved.

“He’s right, you know.”

“About what?” I scowled at Tanner.

“About it being secret. No one needs to know.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. It did make it somewhat easier if no one knew. “You think?”

“Yeah. I do. You’re Parker Fucking King. She’d be lucky to date you. You’ve never had a problem with girls before, no need to start now.” He grabbed his stomach as it rumbled. “Man, I’m starved. Let’s get some wings on the way home.”

“Sure, whatever you want,” I muttered, not that I was paying attention to anything he said because I was too deep in thought.

I needed to summon the old Parker.

The one who got any girl he wanted. The one who could ask out the girl of his dreams and not tell a single person.

Parker fucking King.