Chapter 5 Indie

Chapter 5

Indie

In the week since I quit my job in dramatic fashion, I’ve gone through the entire spectrum of emotions. There have been panicked moments where I questioned if I was really going to give up the stability of the corporate world. Guilty ones, such as when I told my dad. I mean, he paid for those fancy degrees—which are now packed up in the box the courier delivered—after all. And there’s been nervous excitement about doing work that makes a meaningful impact.

In the chaos of the Comet’s stadium, surrounded by the people who have supported me, I can’t help but feel deep gratitude for each of them. Including Brianna, who’s stuck by my side, regardless of the fact that I’m leaving. Walking away would’ve been the easier choice, especially considering we haven’t been together long. But even now, with her hand on my knee, she’s talking to Poppy, attempting to get to know my friends.

Introducing the two of them might be my only regret because they are currently exchanging stories about me. Some of which I’d rather not remember. Others, like the one they are in hysterics over now, warm my icy heart .

Poppy recounts the time I got suspended for shaving off Caleb Cummings’s eyebrows because he told her she had a stick up her ass—just like her mom—when she wouldn’t suck his dick on the back of the bus during a ski club trip.

Fall asleep on the bus after a stunt like that and you only have yourself to blame.

He was right about one thing: Beverly’s an uptight bitch, and that’s not even the worst thing about her. She’s also a horrible excuse for a mother, which is why Poppy spent more nights sleeping at my house during the summer than her own.

Giving it my best effort to distract my girlfriend from all the ammo Poppy has on me, I lean forward in my seat, turning my body towards her. I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to where my tits are pressed together.

“Game’s about to start. Maybe we can take a break from story time for a few minutes,” I say, running my finger up her arm.

“Sorry, Bri. I’m with Indie on this one. I don’t want to miss Hendrix running out onto the field in those new pants they got this season,” Poppy says on the other side of me.

“Ugh, I can’t even fight you on that. The boys might hate the pants, but I have zero complaints.” Mia lets out a long sigh, her eyes glued to the field.

“For real, it’s like they used the crotch cover from the OB/GYN to make these uniforms,” Delilah adds.

“Does that bother you?” I ask, trying to imagine how I’d feel if thousands of people were ogling Bri in front of me.

“People can look all they want, but they’re coming home with us,” Mia says with a lift of her shoulders.

The guys jog out onto the field, stopping all the chatter as Lilah whistles loudly at Cruz and Poppy and Mia stand to cheer. But when number four takes his spot in the outfield, it’s no longer the woman beside me I’m picturing in see-through pants, it’s the man with the cocky smile and pretty hair.

Distance and time don’t seem to matter. As soon as those bright chestnut eyes find me, my stomach flips and I’m back in his bed with him .

“Is that him?” Brianna bumps my shoulder, jutting her chin to Dom, who’s now staring at us like we kicked his puppy. His eyes are glued to where Brianna’s hand is touching my leg. “Oh, he doesn’t like this. At all . You really didn’t do him justice when you described him. He’s not a snack, he’s the whole damn pantry.”

“Meh.” I do my best to sound indifferent, but seeing him out there on the field . . . it’s always done something to me. Which is why I ended up in his bed, against my better judgment, in the first place.

And his lap. And his shower. And pressed against his bedroom window.

He doesn’t move, he just stands there, frozen, while his team warms up.

All around me, the girls lose it when Hendrix runs up behind him and whacks him on the back of the head with his glove. It snaps Dom out of it and he readjusts his hat over the patterned teal headband he’s wearing under it.

“He’s not that good looking. It’s the baseball pants . . . They do things to your brain. It’s a proven fact, backed by research,” I argue back.

“Seriously, did they put magic spandex in them? Why does Cruz’s ass look so round?” Lilah’s hand ghosts over her neck, her cheeks turning pink when we all turn to look at her.

“It’s not the pants. Dean has them all doing this glute workout to help build their power.” Mia bites her lip, her eyes never leaving first base where number forty-five is stretching. “It’s really something,” she adds on a shaky breath.

Whether it’s the pants, or the lunges, or having the support of their women in the stands, the Bandits start off strong and keep the momentum going. By the seventh inning, they’re up on the Comets six to two. Annoyingly, Dom is leading the charge. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I swear I can feel his eyes burning into me when he steps up to the plate to bat.

Brianna either hasn’t noticed or is unbothered by it, but I wish he’d stop. I had a lapse in judgment that will never happen again. Which he clearly needs to be reminded of based on the wink he gave me over his shoulder when he took the field in the last inning.

Guys like him are a dime a dozen. Cocky and self-assured; floating through life. The fact that he’s so blatant about his feelings for me—which don’ t extend beyond our compatibility in the bedroom—is one reason he’ll never be more than a memory of one incredible night. No matter how much of that undeniable charm he lies on.

“You’re awfully tense for a night of fun with your friends,” Brianna whispers into my ear during a break in the action. My eyes drift to where Dom is taking off his elbow guard at first base. “Ignore him.” Her hand smooths over my knee.

“He’s trying to rile me up,” I huff, annoyed that she picked up on it, and maybe a little more annoyed that she’s unbothered by it.

“Clearly it’s working.” She laughs, dropping a kiss on my neck.

“Are you trying to make him jealous?” My breath hitches as her grip on my knee tightens.

“Do you want me to?” Her eyes glitter playfully under the stadium lights.

“Jealous or not, I don’t care, I’m here with you and I’m leaving with you. He’s . . . nothing.” Except for that one night he felt like everything. But I can’t dwell on that, because it’ll drag me back under like a rip current if I do.

“That’s my girl.” Her lips brush my ear. “But if you want to make sure he knows that you’re mine, I can make it very clear. Just so he knows he’s nothing. ”

“Jesus,” I mumble, suddenly feeling overheated in a way that has nothing to do with the warm night.