Page 8 of Totally Played (Love In Play #5)

Chapter eight

Ashley

Last night was amazing. Hanging out with Calvin and his friends was so much fun.

After dinner, we played charades. I was paired with Calvin, and if it wasn’t for Tim and Lion’s possible psychic connection, we would have won.

It’s the only way I can explain Lion guessing Tom Cruise from Tim jumping up on the couch, waving his arms around like a monkey.

As the night went on, it was harder for me to remember that I wasn’t on an actual date, a romantic one, anyway. Calvin called it a bro-date, but every minute with him had me wishing it was something more. My phone chimes.

CALVIN: I left your name at the ticket booth. They will tell you how to get to your seat.

I still can’t believe I agreed to go to a game. Redmond has been bugging me for over a year to go with him, and one offer from Calvin, and I’m there. What does he mean by finding my seat?

ASH: Aren’t all the seats at the home ground first come, first served?

CALVIN: Yep, but at home ground we have a section of seats for friends and family. Figured if I am going to convince you that this game is awesome, you should have an unobstructed view.

I only want to see him. It’s stupid, crushing on a straight guy, but here I am.

There is just something about Calvin that has me mesmerized.

I opened up the app again when I got home and rated Tony’s profile a five overall.

I then went in and started tapping all the positives.

On time, kind, friendly, generous, patient, funny, smart, the list goes on and on.

By the time I scroll through everything, Tony’s got a huge boost. I guess it’s maybe not fair to the others on the app, seeing as my review isn’t really of Tony, but of his twin brother, Calvin, but if he’s even half as sweet, any guy or girl would be lucky to have him.

The last question asked if I would see them again.

I tapped yes and closed the app. Calvin and I had a connection I’ve never had with anyone, and if I can only be his friend, then that’s okay with me, because after last night, as unrealistic as it might be, I’m really excited to see where this friendship could go.

ASH: Will I get to see you after the game?

CALVIN: Yep, before the game, too, we come around and chat with fans before the opening number.

ASH: Can’t wait!

***

I follow the directions the girl at the ticket stand gave me and then line up behind a group of teenagers who are trying to convince the guy standing by the rope that they are friends of the players.

“I swear, dude, Tim’s my cousin,” one says in a ridiculous fake Australian accent.

The guy laughs and shakes his head.

“The longer you waste time trying to convince me, the less seats you’ll find somewhere else,” he says, and they huff and start making their way back up the stairs, muttering under their breath.

“Name?” the guy asks me.

“Ashley Hayes,” I say, and a hand shoots up from behind him.

“Gav, he’s with Calvin, come on in, Ashley,” she calls, and hearing her say I’m “with Calvin” brings a bigger smile to my lips than it should.

“Hey, I’m Rachel, Calvin’s little sister.

This is Mom and Dad,” she says, leaning back.

She’s got the same light brown hair as Calvin, and pale buttery skin, but while his eyes are a stunning blue-gray, her eyes are brown.

Their mom is a perfect older version of her, and she smiles and pulls me into a tight hug.

It’s been way too long since I’ve had a hug like this.

A mom hug. My eyes close for a second as I just let myself feel it, then let her go before I make it weird.

“Lovely to meet you, dear,” she says. “I’m Lyn, and this is Jo.”

Jo has almost the same gray-blue eyes as Calvin. But just like when I checked the photo of Tony again after our bro-date, there is something different in them. Something unique to Calvin that the other two men lack.

“Hey, I’m Ashley,” I say. “Oh, wait, you knew that.”

They chuckle, and I sit, hoping the heat rising to my face isn’t too obvious.

“So this is your first game?” Rachel asks.

“Live one, yeah. We watched yesterday’s game on replay last night, so technically it’s my second game.”

“Trust me, this experience will blow that out of the water,” she says, then jumps to her feet and cheers.

“Wooo, go Funky Monkeys!”

“Sit down, Rachel,” Lyn says, but she pumps her fist in the air and hoots as the music volume increases and the players jog out onto the field.

I spot Calvin right away, and it makes my stomach flutter the second his gaze meets mine.

“Wooooo!” Rachel cheers. “Go big bro!”

Lyn leans forward.

“Sorry about her, she’s very…spirited,” Lyn says over the noise of the crowd.

“I don’t mind,” I say, and Rachel grabs my arm and pulls me to stand beside her.

“Yeah, he doesn’t mind. Calvin said you like to cheer. Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

The flurry in my gut is now a full-on tornado.

“I… I’m not sure I…”

“Come on, it’s fun,” she says, then cups her mouth and screams, “Go Calvin! Woooo.”

People are cheering from all over the stadium as the players start making their way into the stands, dancing with people as they go.

I spot Calvin holding the hands of a little girl, twisting with her, and then he spins her under his arm. Fuck, can this guy get any sweeter?

I bring my hands up and cup my mouth just like Rachel and cheer.

“Woooo, go Calvin!” He turns toward me right away with a huge smile on his lips, spins the little girl one more time, then jogs through the crowd, giving high fives as he goes all the way until he’s with us.

“You came,” he says like it’s some super happy surprise.

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, but people don’t always do what they say.”

“I do,” I reply, and he’s grinning up at me with those big blue-gray eyes shining bright. It’s almost like the noise of it all quiets for a moment, sound locked out of the bubble that’s formed around us. That is until his sister practically jumps on his back, hugging him tight.

“So, big bro, think you can get a couple of points tonight?”

“I hope so.”

His mom hugs him. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“Thanks, Mom. Hopefully, I’ll get a few of them out, too.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great. We’ll be cheering you on the whole game,” she says, and Rachel grabs him in a playful headlock, but he slips free and spins to stand behind me. His hands on my arms, fingers gripping tight as he ducks to either side, avoiding his sister’s grasp.

“Calm down, you two,” Jo says, still sitting in his chair and nursing a beer in his lap.

“I’m not sure I should be in the middle of this,” I say, and Calvin’s chest presses against my back, heat flooding through me.

“Stop hiding behind your new best friend,” Rachel says.

“You’re just jealous because you have no friends,” he teases, pushing up to rest his chin on my shoulder. She goes to punch him, but he pulls away and jogs up the stairs out of reach.

“Too slow, baby sister,” he teases.

A microphone crackles to life.

“Welcome to tonight’s game,” they say, and everyone’s attention moves to the field, but I’m still watching Calvin as he jogs to join his teammates on the stairs. “Let’s get this party started.”

The crowd turns their attention to the team on the stairs now, too, and then the guy up front, who I think is Alan Beaker, starts to mime to the lyrics.

The team follows his steps toward the field, waving their arms left and then right in time with the music.

I raise my arms, too, swaying them side to side in time with Calvin.

Then he glances my way and winks, and holy hell, my fucking dick twitches.

I sit before it becomes an even more embarrassing situation.

They reach the grass and gather behind the main singer, then dance a choreographed number like they’re in some kind of music video.

I saw a few of the dances last night on the replay game, but Rachel was right, being here in person is so much better.

The energy in the crowd is intoxicating, and like some lemming influenced by the mob around me, I’m singing along with them before the song is over.

Then the OG’s surround Calvin’s team, and the crowd erupts three times as loud.

“Wow, they’re popular,” I say to Rachel.

“Yeah, the OG’s have legacy fans from the birth of the sport. They’re hardcore. She nods to a section up and over from where we are. About fifty people are all wearing the OG yellow jerseys and hats and waving giant foam fingers with “OG #1” on them.

“Purple is more my color,” I say, and Rachel takes off her jacket, revealing a jersey like her brothers’, only it’s fitted and long like a dress.

“Mine, too,” she replies, hanging her jacket on the seatback. “I made this out of an extra-large jersey. Do you like it?”

“Wow, you’re so clever. I can’t sew a button on a shirt.”

She chuckles.

“I’m sure you could. It’s not that hard.”

“I have enough trouble picking what to wear, no way could I design a whole dress. You should give yourself some credit. It’s amazing.”

“There are a bunch of women doing the same thing now. If the clubs sold them we’d be able to buy them instead of having to create our own.”

“I’m sure what you’ve created looks better than anything they could come up with.”

“Thanks.” She blushes, and we turn our attention back to the players.

Calvin’s team is mostly jogging to the dugout as the OG team fans fan out across the field.

The first hitter, Rachel tells me, is John Morley, and he doesn’t even clip the ball before he’s out, and while the second hitter, Beau Hogan, manages to connect, it’s caught in center field and he’s sent back to the dugout, too.

Then the crowd starts to make quacking sounds.

“Quack, quack,” Rachel and her parents join in.

The large screen zooms in on Brendan Grant, nicknamed Duckie, as he searches through a collection of bats off to the side of the field.

Surely any one of them would be fine, I think, but apparently not.

He shakes his head and jogs back to the dugout, returning a moment later with a bright yellow bat with ducks all over it.

The crowd cheers as he playfully swings to the crowd before stepping into the box.

It’s a good show, but it won’t mean much if he can’t get a hit.

The pitcher sends a curveball right into the catcher’s glove a moment later.

Duckie doesn’t look concerned, waving to the crowd and tapping the side of his boot before preparing to swing again.

The pitcher lines up, the crowd falls silent, and then, as the ball is sent screaming toward him, he swings.

It connects. The crowd is on their feet.

Brendan is off like a shot to first, as the ball lands in the grass near the far stands and one of the outfielders scoops it and sends it toward second.

Duckie is almost there. Why didn’t he stop at first?

He slides, foot connecting with the base just before the ball connects.

“Safe,” the second base ump calls.

“Wooooo!” we cheer along with the fans. It’s not a point, but it’s a start.

Calvin steps onto the field, a mic in one hand and his bat in the other. He points the bat toward Duckie.

“You’re on my base,” he calls, and the second base ump steps closer so that Duckie can reply using his collar mic.

“Get me home and you can have it.”

“You got it,” he replies, tossing the mic to Tim, who’s waiting at the side, and then stepping into the box.

“Come onnnnn, come onnn,” I mutter, wringing my fingers in my lap.

“He’ll hit it,” Rachel says with a confidence in her tone I so hope is warranted. He managed a couple of good hits in the game we watched last night, so she might be right.

He glances my way just as the pitcher sends the ball, and it lands in the glove for the first strike.

“Watch the ball,” I scream at him.

He cups a hand beside his ear and frowns, mouthing, “What?”

The pitcher sends another ball while he isn’t watching for another strike, and the crowd is screaming now too.

I stand up and cup my hands around my lips.

“Hit the dang ball!” I scream, and he nods, brings the bat up, his elbow high, shoulders down, and then when this ball comes, he swings. The crack of the bat when it connects is lost under the sound of my cheering.

Duckie cartwheels before landing on home plate as Calvin pauses on second base, a big smile on his lips and his piercing blue-gray eyes locked on mine. Then he points in my direction.

I’m definitely in trouble.