25. Harrison

I’m always surprised by the amount of people at the airport. Not just the people traveling, but the people like me, waiting to pick up friends, relatives, and business associates. There is always something happening. I guess I’ll see my fair share of airports this year, flying to games. I love that they are integrating home games every third week so that the locals who made this game what it is are getting to still see us.

A man in a suit holding a sign shoves past me to get to the front. I stand at the back of the crowd of about thirty, waiting for Arlo to walk out. He’ll see me fine from here. It”s been two weeks since I’ve seen him in person, and as much as I love sneaking into the bathroom for a cheeky video chat, I miss holding him and waking up in his arms the most.

His gorgeous red hair, a beacon for my eyes, draws me in the second he turns the corner. It’s tied in a messy bun on his head, loose strands falling around his grinning face.

I stretch an arm up and wave, desperately trying to hold my place at the back when all my legs want to do is bolt through the crowd and pull him into my arms.

He weaves through the crowd, dragging his travel case behind him, and when he’s a few feet away, I lose all control of my manners, shove through the small gap between the people in front of me, grab him by the waist, and lift him, spinning him around and then pull him into a kiss.

The airport might as well be empty because, at this moment, all I register is us. His tongue is wildly exploring my mouth, and when he finally pulls away, I see the crowd is completely gone.

“I missed you,” I say, and he smiles.

“I missed you more.”

“I doubt that, but I’m not going to waste time arguing with you about it. Let me kiss those perfect lips again.”

“How about we go to the hotel, and we can kiss all sorts of things?”

“Ohh, yes, please,” I say, reaching for his bag. “Is this everything?” I ask, and he nods, linking his arm with mine, and we make our way to the taxi stand.

***

“What time is tonight’s game?” he asks, unpacking his things into the drawers of the dresser in our hotel room. The rest of the team is staying here, too, but I got us a room of our own. I had hoped he would have arrived sooner but there was a storm that delayed his flight, and now we have hardly any time before I have to get to the field.

“I have to be there at three for warm-up, then pregame meet and greets and crowd work.”

He checks his watch. “Not as much time as I would have liked, but we will have all night, after the game.”

“Time for what exactly?” I ask with a raised brow, and he turns to face me holding his black sketchbook. Hell yes! “The windows in this hotel are mirror tinted. We can do the one you drew a few days ago.”

His lips twist into a cheeky grin. “The one with your hands pressed against the glass,” he says, stepping toward me as he turns the pages one by one. “Legs spread wide.” He glances up at me through his thick lashes, inching closer and closer. “My cock buried deep inside you?” he asks, turning the book around to the scene he’s talking about. The exact scene I was thinking of. My cock thickens, and I reach for the book, but he throws it to the side. “Oh, you’ll have to wait for that one, but I can certainly take care of this for you,” he says, his gaze moving to the bulge in my pants before he drops to his knees.

Watching Arlo”s perfect lips wrapped around my cock will always be incredibly fucking hot, and as much as I want to spend the next few hours rolling around in bed, I can’t be late for warm-up, so after he swallows every last drop from me, I drag him into the shower, to return the favor before we head to the game.

***

I step out onto the field, the fresh painted lines on the bright green grass bringing a smile to my lips.

“About time,” Benny says, heading my way. I’m only a minute or two late. “I would ask what took you so long, but I can tell by the smile on your face, I don’t want to know the details.”

“Oh, you’d love the details, trust me. What we did just now… Wooo.”

Gordon scrunches up his face as he stretches beside Benny. “Dude, that’s my brother you’re talking about,” he complains, shaking his head.

“Shit, sorry didn’t see you there,” I lie and start on my stretches.

Arlo sits in the stands watching and sketching, and it’s impossible to stop my thoughts from returning to all the naughty things he’s drawn these past two weeks.

“Yo, get your head in the game,” Gordon calls as a ball flies past my head.

“Shit, dude, watch it.”

“Watch the ball and not my brother.”

“But he’s so pretty,” I say, my gaze returning to Arlo. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind his ear and glances my way. This time, the ball hits me in the shoulder and a sting spreads across my skin.

“Asshole,” I say, dragging my attention back to the field.

“Get in the box, I want a win tonight, the OG are going down,” Gordon says, and I laugh. We’ve lost every game to the OG teams since we started. It had a bunch of articles claiming it was all staged, but the truth is, they were just better on the night. But not tonight. Tonight, we’re going to show them exactly what we’re capable of and kick their butts.

“Right, let’s do this,” I say, and we run through some drills, Gordon practicing a few dance moves he’s got planned for pitches, and then we head out to the gates to start welcoming the crowd.

Unlike our introduction tour, this time we spend a good hour interacting before the game starts.

“Can I have your autograph?” a young girl asks, holding out a baseball already covered in a bunch of signatures.

“Sure you can,” I say, adding my scribble as small as I can so she can fit any others she wants on, too. “Do you like Banana Ball?”

“It’s so much better than the other baseball. They don’t have singing and dancing.”

“Exactly, our game is way better.”

“Are you a good singer?” she asks, as another child hands me an autograph book and I laugh. “Not really. I’m pretty good at pretending.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises and then moves along to get the rest of her signatures.

I sign a few more things, then the music starts to get louder over the speakers. Dennis has been dying to use a High School Musical song in one of his intros, and tonight, he finally gets his wish. Alan was first to put up his hand for the lead and as he is spotlighted making his way from the stairs to the field, he mimes the intro for Get’cha Head In The Game.

I make my way to the pitch and join the rest of my team in formation around Alan. The song was made for basketball, but Dennis has worked in baseball tosses across the circle, and bat flips, and even though we aren’t in perfect sync, it looks pretty cool even from where I’m standing. I can’t wait to watch the video.

We get to the end of our routine and immediately the OGs take to the pitch, rushing the field as The Eye Of The Tiger blasts from the speakers, and the crowd all rise to their feet.

All it does is fire me up. I’m more determined than ever to show them who the real stars are tonight.

We take our places out on the pitch, the smell of the leather of my glove welcoming me home. That’s what this place is for me. It’s home. I settle into position in front of the umpire and throw Gordon the signal for a curveball the second the batter is in the box. His pitch flies right into my glove and the crowd’s cheers are deafening.

“We can do this all night,” I say to the hitter, and he shakes his head.

“What else can you do all night?” he asks, and the second ball flies past him right into my glove again.

“My boyfriend, but spectators are not our thing. Do you think you want to hit one of these or are you just here to chat?”

I throw Gordon another signal for a curveball, and he shakes his head.

“I heard you’re up for anything.”

“I’m only up for one man now, so either hit the ball or hit the road,” I say, signaling a fastball to Gordon, and he nods and sends it flying down. The hitter gets a hold of it, and when the crack of his bat hits the ball, it goes soaring into right field.

“Like that?” he asks with a smile, then drops the bat and takes off toward first base. I jump to my feet, watching the ball the whole time, and Arthur Green running toward it. Come on, man! My stomach is churning faster with each passing second. Arthur gets under it, his arm stretches out, and the ball lands perfectly in his grasp.

Yes!

The umpire calls out and half the crowd cheers, while the hitter smirks my way and throws me a wink as he wanders back to the dugout.

I shake my head. That guy has nothing I want, and as I retake my place in the box, I glance over at Arlo, his sweet smile directed squarely at me. He mouths, I love you and all I want to do is kiss him. So I pull off my helmet as the next batter is walking onto the field. We have so many skits set up between pitches and innings that the crowd just think this is one of those times. Except there is no music playing, other than the drumming beat of my heart calling me to him. I rush to the side of the field and jump up onto the rail. Arlo’s seat is right up front, and he’s got his sketchbook in his lap, shaking his head at me.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot to get a good luck kiss,” I say, and he laughs.

“You”re going to get in trouble.”

“Only if you make me wait too long,” I reply, and he smiles that perfect fucking smile, puts the notebook down on the ground, and steps toward me. The crowd is cheering, the coach is yelling at me to get back in the box, and I can feel Gordon”s eyes boring into my back, but I don’t care about any of that.

“It was only a few weeks ago I couldn”t read aloud to a room full of strangers and now you want me to kiss you in front of thousands of people?” he asks, one hand reaching out to cup my face.

“Shit, I didn’t think of that. You don’t have to—” I start, but then he leans in and his lips press against mine. It only lasts a split second.

“Now get out there and win this,” he says, and I jump back off the rail and jog toward the box.

“You good now, Roe?” Coach calls, and I smile and nod.

“Yep, all good, Coach.” I crouch in the box and lock eyes with Gordon, his lips upturned in a smile I thought I would never see when he looked at me and his brother. I guess I should thank the universe for that, too. “Let’s go, Gordie. We’ve got this!”