Excerpt from The Way You Are

"They say nice guys always finish last. I say the only place that should apply is in the bedroom—it's just good manners, after all."– Brett MacKinnon, nice guy and frequent resident of the friend zone

LIV:There are really only three things I need in life: sex, baseball, and winning. My hot boyfriend and season tickets take care of the first two, while I always do my best to cover the last. So developing an unexpected crush on a new friend is more than a little inconvenient. I don't have anything but friendship to offer Brett, but with the way he looks at me, he has me wishing I did.

brETT:I've been put in the friend zone so often, they've got a sandwich named after me. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. But when it comes to the delectable Liv, I'm determined to ditch the friend zone and show her I'm boyfriend material. Too bad the position's already been filled by a ball-playing caveman who could flatten me with his pinky.

What will it take to show Liv that nice guys can be more than just friends, and that love is the one game truly worth winning?

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CHAPTER ONE

COJONES ARE MY LIFE

brETT

"Hey, Blue! Get off your knees—you're blowin' the game!"

My head snapped to the right at the unexpected taunt. Not that fans heckling the ump were anything unusual, but this comment came with a loud, feminine voice attached to it. I shifted in my seat to get a better look at the next section over, but a large man wielding his concessions stash of hot dogs and beer blocked my view.

The insult wasn't a bad one, I had to admit. I was never one to heckle the ump myself—especially this guy, Gleeson. The players, on the other hand, were fair game all day long. I just never wanted to get booted from the stadium and miss any of the game. And pissing the umpire off was just the way to find your ass watching the game from behind the gates.

"Come on, Franks! You got this!" I cupped my hands around my mouth, not that the Guardians pitcher could hear me anyway. My voice couldn't carry nearly as far as the chick over in section 104. I groaned as the batter caught a piece of Franks' curveball and hauled ass all the way to second. Turned out Gavin and Emerson weren't missing much. My best friend and his girl had joined me for the first game of this double-header with the Charleston Kings, but they'd begged off before the second game started—no doubt to go fuck each other's brains out. At least I wouldn't be home to hear it through the walls in case they decided to head back to Gavin's and my place.

At the rate those two were going, though, I was guessing it would be just my place before too long. I could see the writing on the wall. Everyone I knew was pairing up and it was starting to make me a bit paranoid. But I was being smart. Careful. The next time I got involved, it would be with the right girl for the right reasons. I was done letting a nice pair of tits turn me into a walking hard-on with the word "doormat" tattooed on it.

Shit. That was a horrible mental image. I looked down at my crotch and silently apologized to my dick.

The Kings' next batter hit a line drive to left field and got himself on first, but the inning turned over when he got cocky and drew the final out trying to steal second. He was gonna find himself back with the rookies if he didn't check his judgment.

"That's the way, Horner! Keep it up and you'll be scoring bigtime later tonight!" There came the shouting again, this time directed at the Guardians' new second baseman—some big dude named Troy Horner. He turned to the stands with a flash of white teeth while our shortstop, Joey Martel, looked in the same direction and scowled.

Interesting. Looked like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

This time, when I searched for the source of the comments, I spotted her. Though she wasn't yelling anymore, it could only have been her. The girl looked about twenty and was decked out in a green and gold Guardians jersey that swamped her small frame. Long black hair cascaded down her back from beneath the bright green ballcap, and huge sunglasses sat on her small face. I felt my lips curve up at the sight. For someone so tiny, she sure could make a racket.

Looking around the stands, I noticed the crowd had begun to thin out—not unusual for a double header this early in the season. But where had this chick been for the first game? I knew I would have noticed her. Looked like I'd have more entertainment than anticipated this evening.

To me, there's nothing better than a Saturday at the ball park. Baseball is in my blood, thanks to my Pop and Grandpop. As a kid, it was my dream to make it to the majors, but I learned early on that you had to possess coordination and actual skill at playing the game to make it anywhere. In a word, I suck. But that never stopped me from being the biggest fan out there. Ask me anything about the game and I can tell you. Some of us, like Gavin, were meant to play. Others were meant to revere, obsess, and bask in the simple perfection of the game. That's me, all the way.

I took a sip of my beer and watched my team—well, one of my teams—prepare to bat. The Greensboro Guardians are a double A minors team, but the fact that their stadium is a fifteen-minute drive from my place makes them the team I watch most often. Then there's the Knights and the Bulls, coming from Charlotte and Durham respectively. Those guys are triple A and are only a couple hours away—best $25 a guy can spend to see some big names throwing the ball in a local stadium. But, hell, give me any game and I'll be there. In fact, Emerson's brother plays for North High School and I watch him at least once a week. That kid has a future, I'll tell you that.

Our first player came up to bat, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting to see if the little heckler would speak up. A glance in her direction showed her attention riveted to the field. Damn, that was my kind of girl. The Kings' pitcher threw a fastball, catching our batter off guard. I sighed, and sure enough, there came the shouting.

"Come on, ump! That was low! This is baseball, not bowling!"

I smiled to myself and shook my head. This girl was asking for it.

The next batter connected right in the sweet spot and hauled ass until he slid safely into second.

"It's okay, pitcher! At least your mom still loves you!"

Several snickers sounded from around me, including a couple Kings fans. It seemed nobody was immune to her taunts.

Without thinking, I grabbed my beer and rose from my seat. Then I shuffled my way up the aisle to the concourse level before making my way over to section 104. Nobody was checking tickets, as there was no point this late in the day. She was about fifteen rows down and all I could see was the back of her head covered in that green hat and dark, shiny hair. I forced my attention to the field again. The Guardians just had the one player on second, and that new guy, Horner, was up at bat—the same guy she'd promised some post-game action to. Before I even knew what I was doing, I found myself shouting in my loudest voice.

"This guy hasn't driven anybody home since junior prom!"

A few chuckles sounded around me, and then she turned. She halted when she singled me out and I stared at her until she lowered her giant sunglasses and glared daggers my way. I couldn't stop myself. I burst out laughing and didn't miss the tiny twitch of her lips before she swung her head back around to the action on the field.

Another out and a couple more vigorous insults thrown at the ump from the glaring heckler, and I spotted two security guards taking the stairs down in her direction. Shit. Not that I didn't see this coming, but I knew how I'd feel if I got kicked out.

I found myself trailing the guards down the aisle and slipping into the row behind the girl as they shuffled their way into the row in front of her.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to gather your belonging and follow us."

"What do you mean? Why?"

"Ma'am, you've been heckling the umpire all evening."

She shrugged her small shoulders in that huge jersey and made no move to get up. "I call ‘em as I see ‘em. You can't fault me for that."

"Actually, we can. Listen," said the other guard. "Cheering is encouraged, but when you start using profanity and insulting the official's mother, we've got a problem."

I raised my hand to catch the guard's attention. "Sir." Three sets of eyes settled on me, one now stripped of the ridiculous sunglasses. "I believe the lady was referring to Gleeson's mother's china cabinet." They all looked at me as if I'd hit the beer concessions a bit too hard. I just shook my head and pressed on. "It's a common mistake. I imagine the cabinet, in fact, does have very large drawers—cajones." I mimed opening a drawer, still not sure why in the hell I was interfering. "It means drawers … you know, in Spanish." I eyed the girl, silently urging her to play along. I couldn't do all the work here.

She finally nodded and turned back to the guards with the fakest damn laugh I've ever heard. "Oh, you thought I was telling the ump his mom had bigger …" she pointed covertly to one of the guards' crotches. "… than he does?" Her head switched to a shake. "Oh, no. I'm a lady. I don't?—"

I cut her off before she could add any more layers of bullshit. "Like I said, common mistake. The one you're thinking of is spelled with two Os." I smiled innocently and gave my beard a scratch.

The girl turned her head to face me again, biting her lips to keep from laughing. Once she schooled her features, she turned back to the guards. "Yes. I'm a furniture dealer. Mrs., uh, Gleeson is one of my best customers. What can I say? Cajones are my life." She put her hands out in a what are ya gonna do gesture. "Sorry for the confusion."

The guards' eyes passed back and forth between me and the troublemaker before settling firmly on her again. The closest one pointed a finger at her. "I don't want to hear another peep out of you unless it's singing someone's damn praises, you hear me?"

She put her hand up in what looked more like a Vulcan salute than any kind of gesture of Scout promise. "Yes, sir."

The second guard narrowed his eyes at both of us before the two uniformed men beat it back up the steps.

"Well, thanks for that." She turned again to me. I moved a seat over so she didn't have to strain her neck. Her normal speaking voice was silky and low, making me want to lean in to make sure I caught every word. "Nice save with the bullshit Spanish lesson."

I shook my head. "All true. I swear. I knew those years spent with Se?ora Berkovich would eventually pay off." I mimicked her ridiculous salute and she freaking giggled. The sound was like low-toned bells and my jeans were suddenly uncomfortably tight.

"I'm not sure if I believe you or not, but you saved me from missing my boyfriend's game so I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt."

Aaaaaand down went my semi.

* * *

"So, wait. How in the hell did both your cousin and your boyfriend end up on the same team? That's statistically impossible." I tried not to let the word boyfriend come out with a snarl. Not that I should have been surprised that a girl this cool was taken.

After turning around for the tenth time to make comments to me once the guards left, Liv Sun—short for Olivia because her mom had some weird preoccupation with the movie Grease—invited me to sit next to her for the rest of the game. We sipped our beers and talked baseball. She grew up with her cousin, the scowling shortstop from earlier, and had been indoctrinated into the sport from an early age. She confessed she generally cheered for whatever team her cousin was on at any given time, but her heart otherwise stayed with the Carolina teams. This pleased me beyond the point that could be deemed appropriate. I feared I was a bit screwed.

"Dumb luck, I guess. Troy and Joey were on their first minors team together and then each played for other farm teams for a couple years. They just happened to both end up in my neck of the woods this year, which works out well since I already have the jersey." She pulled at her shirt and I had to force my eyes from falling on her tits. "Although either one would jump at the chance to move up, obviously."

I nodded my understanding. These guys got shifted around a lot, and it wasn't unheard of for a few to get plucked right from the double As for a spot in the majors mid-season.

Liv's eyes went back to the field where the pitcher was warming up. "I've known Troy since they first played together, but we didn't start dating until the end of last season. He and Joey got an off-season gig laying floors here in town, so they've both been around."

I nodded, as it was really the only polite thing to do. Troy Horner seemed like a decent player, if you liked second basemen, that is. What? Everybody knows second base is where the biggest assholes gravitate.

"So why were you heckling him earlier, by the way? He's on your team!" She gave me a dirty look.

I just laughed. "Maybe I felt bad for the Kings. None of their fans can heckle for shit."

She scrunched her nose and I noticed freckles dotting the golden skin of her nose and cheeks. "You're weird." Then she offered me some popcorn and smirked. "No wonder you're here alone."

"Hey," I protested. "It's not my fault my friends left." I gestured vaguely toward the concourse. "My buddy and his girl were here for the first game but they had to—" I stopped abruptly before I let the rest of that sentence escape.

Liv's brows creased. "Had to what?"

I looked to the field and tried to change the subject. "So, your cousin's having a good game."

"Not so fast!" She grabbed my wrist and a zing of electricity ran up toward my shoulder. Then she laughed. "Oh my God. They left to go screw! Ha!"

I broke out of my daze at her touch and saw her lips curve up into the widest and most beautiful smile I may have ever seen. Her laughter washed over me, and my heart thumped heavily in my chest. I forced a casual shrug and a grin back.

"Oh, I like your friends, Brett. And I like you. I can tell we're gonna be friends." She sat back in her seat and shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

Fabulous. Just what I wanted. Another hot girl calling me her friend.

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