5. Ryan

Chapter five

Ryan

I get to the gym before Alan and start on some of the stretches Kyle has assigned on the floor by the back wall. When I was in here yesterday, I noticed that Alan was using all the leg machines, and from here, I’ll be able to see him without looking like I’m totally creeping on him. Probably.

He pushes through the door a few minutes later and makes a beeline right for the treadmills.

“Hey,” I say, and he nods my way but offers nothing else. I mean, true, we’re here to work out, but would a hello kill you? “Hitting legs again today?”

“Yeah, not that it makes much difference.”

“You beat out half the guys yesterday during sprints, so maybe it is doing something.”

“I guess so,” he replies, but it doesn’t sound like he agrees. “How’s the shoulder?” he asks.

I roll it backward a few times, and though the ache heats with each rotation, I try to play it cool.

“Fine. I’ll be good by game day for sure.”

“Well, that’s great for the Funky Monkeys, not so great for us.”

“You hit off my fastball last year.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t throwing over one hundred miles an hour then.”

He’s been watching me throw? My cheeks begin to warm, and I quickly turn to grab one of the elastic bands Kyle wants me to use for light tension, hoping they will settle if I just don’t stare into his stunning dark eyes for too long, but they only grow warmer as I think about how those same eyes were watching me. When I do turn back, Alan’s got his headphones on, and he’s already jogging on the treadmill. I guess the talking part of our interaction is over. I should at least try to focus on what I came here to do, that is, if I actually do want to be ready to pitch by game day.

I do my best to move through each task, but no matter how much I try to focus on the exercises, my eyes stray to his reflection in the mirror as he works out on the hack squat machine. He’s upped the weight three times and sweat has drenched his shirt, making it cling to the muscles of his torso in all the right places.

He pushes through the last rep, then lifts his shirt to wipe his face, revealing his glistening hard abs. My gaze trails down his torso, but when I look back up, his stare is locked on mine in the reflection of the mirror. I lose my hold on the elastic looped under my foot and it flings to the floor with a thwack.

If only there was a hole beside me right now I could crawl inside , I think, bending to pick the elastic back up and continue with the last of the reps. When I dare look back up at the mirror, Alan isn’t there.

“See you on the field,” he says from the other side of the room, headed toward the steam rooms. His shirt is fully off and slung over his shoulder and the muscles of his back are even more impressive than his abs.

“Yeah, see you then,” I reply, watching him until he disappears behind the corner. I let the elastic go again and card my fingers through my hair. The next few days are going to be torture. Exquisite fucking torture.

***

It’s finally game day, and I’m getting pumped in the locker room with the guys. After spending an hour interacting with the crowd and getting them hyped up, it isn’t like we have to work hard to keep that energy going for ourselves.

The choreography for the opening number is burned into my mind, having run it a bazillion times. Mind you, I did screw up more than once because I was too fixated on Alan and Phillip. Okay, just Alan.

Sure, at first, all I could think about was Alan’s large hands exploring my body. His toned, strong arms wrapped around me. But it’s the pure joy he radiates as he helps a group of kids into their sacks for the banana-sack races, the confident gleam in his eye when Dennis hands him a mic, and the wide smile that spread across his face when his eyes landed on his sister in the crowd that has really captured my attention. I overheard him chatting to her on the phone the other day on speaker and the way they joke and laugh reminds me so much of me and Teddy. I’ll have to plan a trip home as soon as the season is over. Fuck. If they cut my team, I could be moving home for good.

Dennis shoves open the locker room door. “Does anyone know Phillip’s part of the opening number?”

My hand is up, and I’m on my feet in a split second.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do,” I say, and his face lights up.

“Great, Ryan, you’re with me. Now.”

I follow Dennis out of the room into the hall where Phillip and Alan are waiting. Phillip is lying on one of the medic stretchers, an ice pack on his head.

“What happened?” I ask, and he removes the pack, revealing a massive black eye.

“I got beat up.”

“What?” I ask, but Alan is laughing.

“It’s not like that. He got hit in the face by a kid’s bat.”

“So a kid beat you up?” I ask, and Dennis grabs the ice pack out of his hand and shoves it back over his eye.

“Keep that there. You’ll be fine. Now you two,” he says to Alan and me. “Get over here. I want to see you run it through before we have to be out there. Oh, crap.”

“What?” I ask.

“I’m not sure you will be able to lift Alan.”

“I’ll be fine,” I reply, but he doesn’t look convinced.

“Seriously, I bench more than he’s gotta weigh. I’ll be okay.”

Alan shakes his head. “You hurt your shoulder, you can’t lift me. What if it makes it worse?”

“I’m good, I swear. Kyle was overreacting.”

“I’ll do it,” Alan says, and I want to object and insist I’m fine, but I also really, really want him to pick me up in his arms and carry me. Shit, how much do I weigh?

“Umm, it’s okay. We can just jump down together.”

He spins to face me.

“You don’t think I can pick you up, do you?” He’s got one hand on his hip like he’s some diva offended by the implication they can’t do something.

“I’m just heavier than I look,” I reply with a shrug.

“Fuck that. I’m picking you up. Dennis, start the music. We got this.”

He storms back a few steps up the hall, and I follow, my cheeks on fire, and my pulse pounding in my ears. Do I know what to do? I mean, I watched them over and over, more than I watched the rest of the choreography and that shit I needed to know. It’s sexy stepping, then turning, joining in the middle, climbing the stairs holding hands, and then he’s going to pick me up. Oh crap. Okay. You got this. Don’t fuck it up now.

Dennis starts the music, and Alan takes off at a strut. Dennis is calling out instructions.

“More sass, chin up, that’s good, Ryan, just like that, okay, now turn.”

We hold hands and pretend to walk together down the stairs, his fingers lacing with mine but loose like he almost wants to let go but can’t. Even with the lightest of touches, heat spreads through my skin, up my arm, and crosses my chest.

“Now lift,” Dennis calls, and Alan rips his hand away, slips his arm behind my back, and sweeps his other arm under my legs, lifting me into a bridal carry, then walks a few steps forward.

“See, I got you,” he says, turning his head towards me. His perfect plump lips draw my gaze.

“Are you sure?” I ask, and he smiles.

“Put your arm around me and stay close to my chest. It’s easier that way.”

I lean in and his cologne envelops me in vanilla and sandalwood.

“You’re still supposed to be singing,” Dennis calls. Shit, right. I start mouthing the lyrics again as Dennis puts a chair in front of us.

“See if you can climb onto that, then jump off without dropping him.”

“I’m not so surrre—” I say as he heaves us up onto the chair. He twists at the hip, swinging me side to side, and I hold my arms around his neck tighter.

“I won’t drop you,” he says and then jumps off the chair.

I don’t mean to, but in the split second of freefall, before we hit the ground, I bury my face into his neck like a terrified child.

“Wonderful,” Dennis calls, and though my cheeks are on fire, I can’t bring myself to lift my head because it’s so perfectly nuzzled right here in the crook of his neck.

“Are you okay?” Alan asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, but my mouth is against the soft skin in the crease, and his shoulder lifts as he giggles and drops my legs.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, immediately as I’m forced onto my own feet. “That tickled.”

“No, I’m sorry. I think I just froze. It won’t happen again.”

He rubs his neck where my lips had just been and turns to Dennis.

“You happy?”

“Ecstatic, darling. Now do it exactly like that in two minutes out there.”

The rest of my team starts filing out into the hall, followed by the rest of Animal Control, and Harrison sidles up next to Alan.

“Fraternizing with the enemy, I see,” he says, slinging an arm over Alan’s shoulder. His tone screams disappointment, but his smile is all fun and games.

“If you had been doing a better job babysitting those niblings of your sisters, then Phillip would still be dancing the opening number,” Alan replies, shrugging out from under his arm.

Harrison begins to back away, his hands up, palms out.

“Look, those kids are wild. No one can control them. I told Duckie to watch them. It’s his fault,” he says, and further up, I spot Duckie’s arm in the air flipping him the bird.

“Was not!” Duckie yells back.

“Was too,” Harrison continues. “Blame him. Gotta go. See you out there,” he says before turning and jogging up the hallway to catch up with the others.

They’ll wait in the dugout until we jump down, then join us on the field for the rest of the number.

“Ready?” Alan asks, turning to me.

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, and we jog out. Will and Frankie are waiting with devices to record, and they follow us into position into the stands.

Frankie is with me, and his face is flushed, and his hands shake as he holds the device up in front of me. The crowd around us cheers and hollers.

“You okay?” I ask him.

“I’m good. I just don’t want to mess it up.”

“Hey, I’ve had one run-through in a hallway. I think if anyone’s going to mess up, it’ll be me.”

“But what do I do if you mess up?”

“Make sure you get it on camera.”

He smiles, and his hands steady, and it’s just in time. The intro music kicks in, and like magic, the crowd falls silent. Spotlights land on Alan and me.

Performing in front of thousands of strangers is the biggest rush, and right now, my heart is like a jackhammer in my chest, but I don’t let it throw me off. I strut my stuff down those stairs, belting out the lyrics at the top of my lungs. Then halfway down, my gaze locks with Alan’s, and it’s like the whole stadium sips away, and it’s just us. He’s smiling wide, big brown eyes glistening, and those freaking adorable deep dimples right on show.

It’s like we’re singing to each other and only to each other, and somehow, I manage to make the turn without realizing, and then his hand is holding mine, and we’re stepping down the backs of the seats towards the railing. There’s a pause in the lyrics.

“Are you ready?”

“For anything,” I reply, my heart in my throat, and then he steps down from the last chair and pulls me into his arms. I want to bury my face in his neck again, to feel the warmth of his skin on my lips, but I keep myself together and sing while his long legs climb over the rail, and then at the perfect moment, he jumps. Time slows down. It’s like I’m floating through space, wrapped in a cocoon of vanilla, and it’s perfect. Until with an oomph, we land on the red dirt, and he stumbles just a little. I hold onto him tight, his arms flexing around me, and when he manages to find his footing, the players in the dugout run onto the field to surround us.

“Sorry,” he whispers into my ear, lowering me down.

“Fine, I’m. I mean, I’m fine,” I mumble, and we continue through the number, my heart pounding in my ears the entire time.

***

“You’re perfect together.” Dennis cheers when he spots me coming out of the locker room the next day, and he flips his device around to show me the video of Alan and me. “Meet me after training in the conference room. I’ve got big plans for you two.”

“Umm, okay,” I reply, trying to sound unfazed when really, the idea of getting to do more one-on-one numbers with Alan has my stomach in a spin. He might be the enemy on the field, but maybe off the field, we could be something else, something more. What happens after game day is nobody’s business. Right?