4. Emerson

"Bosco, Damiano," Coach Wilson barked.

Curious, I surveyed him from across the locker room. Usually, I did my best not to insert myself into issues that didn't involve me, but pregame was boring as shit. Sitting around made me crazy. I didn't want to plan for the game. I just wanted to play it.

"Hannah needs you two for a social media promo."

"No fucking way." Chris's head snapped up from his phone, where he was probably texting with Avery.

Tom Wilson, who happened to be Avery's dad, glowered at his pitcher. But he didn't take one step across the royal blue carpet. He simply crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. Like a warning from the general—no words needed.

Chris swallowed audibly and slumped into the white folding chair set up in front of his locker. "No disrespect, but Coach, Hannah and I have a deal. I don't stir up shit, and she doesn't make me perform like a trained monkey."

As much as I loved the guy, he was a dick.

"I'll be the monkey." I hopped up from my own chair and gave Coach a smile. Hannah's media stuff was usually fun, and I had no interest in sitting around for the next six hours, waiting for the game to start. Last week I'd volunteered to sit in the dunk tank. I had a blast while hundreds of fans under twelve tried their hand at hitting the bull's-eye. Might have been my favorite pregame activity so far. Though right up there with it was making balloon animals for the opening of the puffin exhibit at the Boston Zoo. And the event where we ran bases was amazing. Honestly, now that I was thinking about it, there was no way I could choose a favorite.

Coach gave me a clipped nod.

"So it's the A-team, then?" Kyle Bosco, who normally enjoyed the chaos of Hannah's ideas as much as I did, came up beside me and held out his fist, looking to bump knuckles.

Instead, I wrapped an arm around the right fielder in a half hug, half hair rub. "You know it."

He pushed me away and turned back to his locker to fix his hair. "Fucker."

"Don't worry, dumbass, he didn't mess up your perfect highlights," Mason Dumpty, our center fielder, mocked from the couch he'd settled into a few minutes before. He'd spent the last thirty minutes stomping around looking for his folding chair. I was pretty sure only Bosco thought the hide-the-chair game was fun.

Bosco glared. "I do not get my hair highlighted, but I don't wanna look like shit on Insta or YouTube."

I snickered and ducked so the towel he pitched at me hit our new first baseman, Jasper Quinn, instead. The kid had just graduated from college and had only been with the team for a few weeks. My hope was that trading Deckato, the seasoned veteran, for the young kid was a way to free up some money to extend my contract, but thus far, my agent had heard nothing.

"Stop dicking around and get going." Coach Wilson pointed out the door.

Cringing at the reprimand, I headed out to find Hannah in the tunnels, with Bosco hot on my heels.

"Traded spots again?" Hannah arched a thin brow at me. It had become a regular thing, me covering for my best friend with her.

"You prefer me anyway." I smirked.

"Fans like Dragon." Hannah shrugged, brushing her dark hair over one shoulder.

Despite my best efforts, a lump lodged in my throat in response to that simple comment. I wasn't the fan favorite. Even at the start of my second season with the team, I was still the new kid. It shouldn't have bothered me. I'd sported the title from the time I was drafted out of high school. Until now, I hadn't thought twice about it. But the idea that the Revs didn't think I was worth a contract renewal hurt. After this season, I was up for my first extension since I'd moved from triple-A to the majors. The thought that they wouldn't bring me back was like lead in my stomach.

"Fans love me," Bosco scoffed.

"The ball bunnies love you," she corrected. "As long as it's not Tristian, I have no preference."

Our head of PR and the left fielder had some sort of history. And it wasn't good, from what I could tell. But it made sense. Tristian was a tool.

Without another word, Hannah spun on her heel and took off.

"So, how's living with Gianna?" Kyle waggled his brows at me as we followed after Hannah.

I shot him the side-eye. Loaded question. Like I would tell Mr. Gossipy anything about how I felt about my new arrangement. Plus what could I say, mostly I was tongued idiot around her. I wasn't sure I could be anymore awkward if I tried.

"Chris said she ditched her boyfriend, so living with that goddess sounds like a good time."

"She makes our apartment smell like oranges," I said vaguely. Figuring he wouldn't know what to do with that.

"Huh. Citrus fruit." He nodded. "I can see it."

"Let's go Tweedledee and Tweedledah." Hannah pushed open the door to the team room and held it for us. "Let's try to get through this without it being a thing."

The normal three-person media crew was standing in front of a rectangular table set up in front of a banner with a Revs logo behind it.

Kyle stepped up to the table and eyed the two Revs scarves draped over it. "What are these?"

"They're blindfolds," Hannah said.

"Kinky." Turning on his heel, Kyle smirked at her.

"No." Hannah huffed a breath through her nose, her jaw locked. "Not kinky. Fan friendly." She held up a hand. "All-age fan friendly."

Before Kyle could piss her off, I grabbed both scarves and turned to him. "Let's do tradesees." With a step closer, I held one scarf out and reached for him.

"The fuck?" He reared back, bringing his hands to his head to protect his hair.

"You do me, I do you. I'll be careful of the hair," I promised, knowing it was his thing.

Kyle yanked the scarf I was holding out from my hand. "Do me first. I'm not letting you blind touch my hair."

Hannah huffed a breath. "Neither of you are doing each other."

Snickers echoed around us as one of the women from the crew came over and took them out of our hands. She waved us behind the table and showed us the marks on the floor where she wanted us to stand.

"This is going to be a blindfolded taste test. I'll feed one of you, then you have to explain to the other what it is. That person then has to guess the food."

"Easy." Bosco nodded. "We're on the same wavelength. We back each other up, so we've got the silent communication down."

"Hell yeah," I said, pounding his fist. It was true. With me on third base and him in the outfield behind me, we relied on each other pretty heavily and had worked well together since I was brought up to the Revs.

Quickly, the crew blindfolded us both. I guess it made sense. This way, neither of us had to blindfold the other without being able to see. Even if it would have been more fun our way.

Hannah did a countdown and then gave a welcome spiel before she dove into the game. "Okay, Emerson," she said, using her media voice, "here is the first plate."

"Plate?"

What was she talking about? Was it a baseball reference?

While I was expecting a forkful of food to be placed in my mouth, what I got instead was a push to the back of my head. Caught off guard, I didn't have time to fight it before my face was smashed into a puddle of goo on the table in front of me.

"Hannah." I jerked back and gasped through the cold, slimy film covering my nose and mouth.

A deep laugh erupted, sending a hint of irritation through me, but that fizzled quickly. I couldn't say I was shocked that Mason Dumpty had shown up to watch whatever this was. Like I said, Hannah's shit was always entertaining. She was good at her job. And fans loved all the activities she roped us into. I should have anticipated something ridiculous. She was great at making them laugh.

"This is why I say no to this shit," my grumpy roommate said. Clearly, Mason hadn't come alone. Chris almost sounded amused.

Smiling, I licked at the gooey substance still coating my face. "Not everyone can be as fun as me. And I've got a long tongue, so I'm best suited for this one anyway." To emphasize my point, I stuck my tongue out as far as it would go and swiped at the food again.

"Remember, Emerson," Hannah said, chuckling, "you have to describe it to Kyle."

Describe it. The flavor hadn't registered, so I licked my face again.

"Cold mush," I guessed.

"What?" Bosco asked.

Hannah hummed. "Try again. Be more descriptive."

This time, I was more prepared. Carefully, I lowered my face and sniffed without making a bigger mess. Strawberries, maybe. Tentatively, I lowered my face and stuck out my tongue.

The goo was cold. Creamy. Kinda sweet. But sorta tart. I licked again. Oh, wait. "I know—it's yogurt." Yes. Nailed it. Definitely yogurt. I sat up straight and grinned. "Strawberry Greek yogurt."

"Jesus," Chris muttered. "You're supposed to describe it and have him guess."

"Oh, oops." I chuckled. I'd forgotten that part.

Hannah sighed. "Okay, let's try again."

Beside me, Bosco's chair scraped along the floor like he was scooting closer to the table. "Don't worry, babe, I got this."

"Okay," she said. "Right here."

For a moment, the room was quiet. Without my sense of sight, my hearing improved. I could hear breathing and the soft shuffle of footsteps.

The peace was broken when Bosco crowed. "Oh! It's what you eat with beans."

Lips pressed together, still tasting the strawberry yogurt, I racked my brain for a food similar to the yogurt's texture that would go well with beans. "Crème."

"What is that?" Bosco asked with a laugh.

"It's like a mix of sour cream and cheese."

"No. Not that. You eat this with beans."

"Crème," I said again. Because that's what went with beans. Everyone knew that.

"No, this is crunchy."

Crunchy? What the hell kind of crunchy food went with beans? Uh. I'd already messed this up once. I wasn't doing it again. "Chips?" I guessed, but wouldn't I have heard him chomping if he was over there eating chips?

"No."

Frowning, I turned his way, even though I couldn't see him. "Tortillas?"

"No. Like this and beans."

I clapped my hands, shooting up straight. Yes. I had it. "Pork."

"No! It's white, and you eat it with beans, and it's crunchy, not creamy."

"Uh, it's only crunchy if it's made wrong," Mason mumbled from the other side of the room.

What was it? "Uh…" I scratched at my head, at a loss.

"Rice," Bosco said, his tone laced with annoyance.

Hannah groaned.

"Rice?" I said, wishing I could yank this blindfold off. Mason was right. Rice shouldn't be crunchy. I'd never had crunchy rice. If Bosco hadn't thrown that out there, I would have gotten it.

"I want a do-over," Bosco demanded. "He should have gotten that."

"No, it's Emerson's turn," Hannah said.

"He should have gotten that. I want a do-over."

"Okay," I agreed with an easy shrug. I could go without having my face shoved into another plate of food, and Bosco clearly needed the win.

"Fine," Hannah said.

I waited and listened, this time to the sound of him chewing.

"They're salty. And small. And a snack."

"Fritos."

"No."

"Sunflower seeds."

"No. They're shaped like…" Bosco hummed, then chuckled. "Like a dick."

"Banana?" I guessed.

"No. Smaller. Like a dick on a… mouse."

Hannah coughed, and the room broke out in laughter.

"Mouse dicks?" I asked, confusion and amusement teaming up and making me laugh.

"Kinda. I don't know. Just think dick on a mouse. But salty and crunchy."

Elbows on the table in front of me, I racked my brain for foods that were dick shaped. "Oh," I said, clapping. "Cashew!"

"Yes! That's what I'm talking about." Kyle drummed both hands on the tabletop, making the whole thing vibrate.

"We can't use that." Hannah scoffed over the noise.

Kyle's drumming came to an instant halt, and the room went quiet again. "Why?"

"We can't go on social media talking about rodent penises. I specifically said this activity was approved for all ages."

Bringing my fist to my mouth, I swallowed back a laugh at the reproach in her voice.

"Fine. Give me another. I'll keep it totally G-rated," he demanded. The dude was probably the most competitive member of the Revs.

Hannah sighed, but a moment later, there was a shuffling of feet. Then she murmured words I couldn't make out.

I laced my fingers behind my head and waited while he shuffled around beside me.

With a snap of his finger, Kyle said, "It's what Gianna smells like."

"Oranges." The word left my mouth instantaneously.

"Jesus," Chris muttered. "Neither of you should know what my sister smells like."

I winced. Shit. I probably answered that a bit too fast. But I'd spent the three days since she'd moved in immersed in that scent. Every detail of it was lodged in my brain. "I live with her, man." With a yank, I pulled my blindfold off and searched the room for him. "Even though I'm not eating the flowers, I can't help but smell the bouquet."

He blinked, and his entire body went rigid, but after a couple of heartbeats, he relaxed and shook his head. "Whatever the hell that means. But yeah, okay." Then he turned his death glare on Bosco. "Stay away from my sister."

Shit. Gi would hate that. Chris liked to issue demands, and already, it was obvious to me that Gianna wasn't big on being told what to do.

"She can take care of herself, man," I said. "And you know she'd cut out your tongue for trying to be her boss."

Chris scowled, but then he shrugged. "Probably."

"Well," Hannah muttered, "this was a disaster. Let's just hope we can edit it into something somewhat usable."

With a wave to the crew, she started cleaning up, and they followed her lead.

Chris shuffled closer. "Sorry, man. I'm not trying to give you shit," he said, shocking the shit out of me. With one hand in a pocket, he scratched at the back of his head. "You're doing me a solid by letting her live with you. I know she's a pain in the ass."

She really wasn't. I'd hardly seen her in the three days she'd been there. I wasn't home much, and when I was, she was usually camped out in her room.

"It's not a big deal." I shrugged. "If the place didn't smell like orange blossoms all the damn time, I wouldn't even know she's around."

Which was good. Because now that I knew her boyfriend was out of the picture…nope. I wasn't even thinking about it. She was a sexy, talented woman who'd no doubt easily find another guy to worship her. And for so many reasons, that guy couldn't be me.