5. Monty

Chapter five

Monty

“And then, Marcus said girls suck at baseball, and Sydney punched him the stomach. It was awesome.” Grayson pumps his fist in the air as he bounces beside me on the bench outside of the ice cream shop we stopped at after playing catch for an hour.

Whoever says you shouldn’t eat ice cream in November is wrong. There’s never a bad time for bubble gum ice cream. Yeah, I said bubble gum.

“You know he’s totally wrong, right?” I say seriously. “Girls are just as good at baseball as boys. Sometimes they play the game differently, and they call it softball, but that doesn’t mean it’s easier. They pitch fast and hit hard.”

“Yeah, I know. We had a girl on my team last season, and she hit a home run.” He slurps at his rocky road ice cream cone as I silently beam with pride. In the three years I’ve spent as Grayson’s Big Brother, he’s come a long way from the sullen boy he was at nine years old.

Growing up as an only child, all I ever wanted was a sibling. Someone to play with, to teach and help grow. I was overflowing with affection and a desire to be friends with everyone around me. Sure, it made me popular in school, being the class clown, the fun guy to have around, but it wasn’t the same.

Which is why, as soon as I could, I signed up for the Big Brother program. It took a while to find a match, and even once Grayson and I connected, it took some time for us to actually bond. But now, my time every other week with him is something I look forward to.

It helps that he’s developed a love of baseball, and his mom doesn’t try to take advantage of my fame in any way. She’s just a single mom trying to do right by her kid, struggling with a low income in an expensive city.

It’s why I break the rules occasionally and hook them up with gear I can get from my sponsors. It’s also why I anonymously donate equipment to his baseball league. Because I know how powerful sports can be for kids.

“Can you come to my game this weekend? It’s the last one for the fall season.” Grayson turns his hopeful gaze on me. “Coach said you could help me warm up if you wanted.”

I hide my smile. I’m sure his coach would be more than happy to have a major league catcher warm up his pitcher. Truthfully, I don’t mind. I like hanging with Grayson, and being around other kids that love baseball is fun. Even if the coaches and parents get a little much sometimes.

“I’ll be there. You been working on those shoulder mobility exercises I showed you? Lark wanted to know how it’s going.”

“Yeah, I do them every night. I think it’s helping. Hey, can she come to the game, too?” Grayson’s voice cracks slightly, and once again, I’m biting back my grin. Dude’s got a little crush on Lark. Not that I blame him, of course.

“I’ll ask her.”

“Cool.” His head tilts down as he stares at his ice cream. “Hey, Monty. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything, you know that. Open book, man.” I turn on the bench to face him slightly. “What’s up?”

“So, um. Like, there’s this girl at school.” He shifts in his seat, eats some ice cream, and darts his gaze up to me, then back down, his cheeks starting to colour.

Meanwhile, my palms start to feel sweaty. And for a guy that relies on steady hands and quick reflexes, sweaty palms are a rare occurrence. But he wants to talk about girls? Oh shit.

“Oh yeah?” I say, clearing my throat. Do I want him to feel comfortable talking to me or not? I honestly can’t decide. In three years, he’s never once brought up girls in this way. I am most definitely not prepared.

“She’s cool. I mean, like, smart. And really good at volleyball. And nice. We talk sometimes, and she likes my jokes.” He takes another bite of ice cream, and then his shoulders slump. “Our first school dance is coming up and I want to ask her to dance. But I’m scared she’ll say no. What do I do?”

Finally, he looks up at me, and the mixture of hope and dread is one I’m sure was on my face a time or two back in middle school. Wanting to be cool enough but also terrified.

I take a minute to try to figure out how the hell I’m gonna handle this. I can’t exactly come out and tell him that I’m a twenty-nine-year-old virgin who’s only been on a few dates, kissed three girls, and who got stood up at his prom the one and only time he was brave enough to ask a girl out in high school .

Yeah. That would scar him for life. Kinda like it did me.

“Well,” I start, then pause. “I mean, you gotta be bold, dude. If you want something, or someone, you gotta shoot your shot. Just remember, if she says no, that’s a final answer.”

There. That’s some good advice, right? Teaching confidence and consent? Fuck, I am the wrong man for this conversation. I rub my palms on my pants, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“If she says no, I’m gonna be so embarrassed,” Grayson says morosely. “Maybe I just shouldn’t ask. I mean, everyone would see her shoot me down and that would suck.”

“ Or everyone would see her say yes.” I lean over and nudge him with my shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re cool. She’d be lucky to dance with you.”

Grayson just huffs. “You have to say that.”

“I don’t have to do anything. Didn’t I promise you in the beginning I’d never lie to you?”

Maybe I don’t tell him everything, but I don’t lie.

He looks up at me. “Yeah.”

“Well, then, trust me. I don’t know who this girl is, but if you think she’s cool, then I’m sure she is. The thing is, so are you. And you’ll never know what could happen if you don’t put yourself out there.”

It’s not lost on me that I should have taken my own advice years ago. Before Lark ended up engaged. But coming between her and her boyfriend felt wrong, even if every instinct has always told me she’s not meant to be with him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Grayson take a deep breath in, then relax against the bench with his exhale. He slowly nods. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll ask her. You’re right, she’s probably not gonna say no. We have a good time when we hang out, and it’s just a dance. No big deal.” He sounds more confident, but still nervous. I’m proud of him, and I give him a smile, even as I inwardly give myself a slap across the head. A freaking twelve-year-old has more game than I do.

This is why I’m still a virgin.

Dammit.