31. Riggs

THIRTY-ONE

RIGGS

"Are you absolutely sure there's no other way?" I say, pouting as Monroe runs her fingers through my hair. We're standing in the hall just outside the locker room, getting ready to walk to the field for the Friendship Day first pitch. Taylor came in about fifteen minutes ago, telling us that there isn't an empty seat in the entire stadium.

"I did suggest a Celebrity Death Match between you and Friggle, but for some reason, the idea was shut down. So unfortunately, no, there's no other way," she says, doing a terrible job of hiding her sarcasm.

I reach up, grabbing her face between my fingers and thumb, squeezing her cheeks. "That smart mouth is going to get you in trouble, Mayhem," I reply through clenched teeth before leaning in to kiss her.

"That's fair," she giggles, and the sound makes me less irritated. "I'll tell you what. If you're a good boy and do as you're told, I'll let you do whatever you want to me later. How does that sound?"

I reach out, sliding my hands along her waist before reaching around to palm her ass. "Why didn't you lead with that, baby? I've been dying to use your body for all kinds of depraved things," I say so only she can hear. She swallows thickly, and I watch as a pink blush spreads across her face and chest, making me smirk. "Ooh, I think you like the idea of being my free-use little whore. I bet your panties are already wet."

Her eyes flutter closed, and I back her against the wall, diving a hand down her shorts and checking for myself. Sure enough, she's soaked, and I have to fight the animal inside me as he bares his teeth, knowing we can't have her the way we want to right now. As much as it pains me to do, I pull my hand out, sucking her arousal off my fingers before pressing one last kiss to her lips.

"You're mine . I hope you're ready to get torn apart," I growl, knowing we're playing with fire right before I need to be on the field. Hopefully, being this worked up doesn't fuck with my game, but if it does, it would be worth it.

"Okay, it's time!" Taylor's voice bounces off the brick walls, and I look to see her standing there covering her eyes. I'm guessing she did it as a precaution, but had she been here a minute ago, she'd have had an eyeful of my semi as I rubbed Monroe's pussy when I definitely shouldn't have been.

Small miracles.

I say my goodbyes, making sure Monroe is escorted to her seat by security before I walk through the dugout and onto the field. I sidle up next to where Ace is crouched behind home plate, tapping his shoulder to let him know he can move aside for this shit show. He stands, a silly grin stretched across his face as he sweeps his arms out as if to say it's all yours . I nod back at him, trying my hardest not to let my grumpy expression break through as I get down on one knee and put my glove out in front of me.

Friggle stands on the mound, oversized glove on one hand and a baseball in the other. He's wearing what looks to be my jersey, and his googly eyes wiggle back and forth as he pretends to stretch.

"Hurry the fuck up," I mutter under my breath, wanting to get this thing over with. But of course, he can't just make it easy. His arm stretches turn into full-on lunges before he finally decides we've had enough. He places the hand that's holding the ball into his glove, looking at me as if he's waiting for a signal. Since I refused to rehearse any of this, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do here. I doubt he knows what each hand gesture means anyway, so I rest my hand between my legs and point down to the ground, telling him to give me a fastball. He makes a giant show of winding up, abandoning any kind of form and opting for a windmill, circling his arm around several times before he finally lets go of the ball. It flies straight up in the air, and I throw my head back, waiting what feels like decades for it to finally drop into my glove. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad he didn't actually know the signal and end up hitting me in the nuts in front of all these people.

I stand, walking toward the mound with my hand in my back pocket. Pulling out the oversized friendship bracelet, I step up next to him and hold it out. Any semblance of hope I had that he would just be cool and take it goes down the drain when he holds his furry wrist out between us, waiting for me to attach the braided band.

Mustering up the realest-looking fake smile I can produce, I wrap the bracelet around his arm and tie it in a knot. He brings it over his heart in an exaggerated movement, swaying back and forth with happiness before opening his hairy purple hand to reveal a smaller version of what I just gave him.

I grunt in annoyance before thrusting my arm between us, allowing him to attach the Velcro ends of the bracelet. Since he doesn't have fingers, they had to make it special so we could do this. It's itchy against my skin, and all I want to do is shake it to the ground, but I refrain. Monroe said I had to be a good boy to get what I want, so that's what I'm going to be.

I smile at the mascot, giving him a tight nod and turning to walk back toward the dugout. I don't get far before I feel a fuzzy hand around my wrist, tugging me back.

"Don't you fucking dare," I growl quietly, but he just looks at me with his stupid, creepy face before he lunges forward and wraps me in a hug. I stand there frozen as the crowd cheers, obviously a lot happier about the embrace than I am. I try to remember that I need to stay cool, because I know if I lay him out again, it'll probably cost me my career.

Thankfully, he releases me, throwing his arms up in triumph as the fans go wild. My eyes lock on Monroe, where she sits in the front row with tears of laughter streaming down her face. As mad as I should be, the sight of her enjoying herself at my expense calms me down, and I roll my eyes before leaving my new best friend to continue his antics alone.

"Not gonna lie," Ace drawls as I make my way into the dugout. "I'm a little jealous. I thought we had something special, Val. But you never look at me the way you just looked at Friggle. "

"Sit and spin, Mathers," I grump, flipping him off. He barks a laugh before standing and patting my shoulder, then walks away.

I sit back a little longer, watching as my teammates start funneling onto the field. Standing, I smooth my pants and fit my glove over my hand before walking up the steps and heading to the mound. Immediately, I notice louder than usual cheers coming from the stands. I look up, watching kids jump on their chairs as their parents laugh beside them.

Holy fuck. She did it.

I'll be the first to admit that I thought Monroe's idea wasn't the best when she first pitched it to me, but in true form, she knew exactly what she was doing. I don't know if this'll translate into jersey sales, but it's amazing to walk onto the field and feel the love. My hot temper has gotten me into some trouble over the years, but up until now, I never realized how quickly that could be detrimental to my career. Having her here to keep me in check has certainly opened my eyes to what my life could look like if I don't stop reacting before thinking.

I'll never be able to thank Monroe for being exactly what I need, but I have no problem spending the rest of my life trying.