My eyes adjust to the darkness just enough for me to see her shift and lift.

  “Linc, what are you doing here?” she asks, her voice groggy.

  I show her my reusable bag and say, “I got some supplies to help make you feel better.”

  She lies back down. “I’m exhausted. Can you just come snuggle on me for now until you leave for class?”

  “I’m not going to class. Rusty said he’d take good notes for both of us.” I take my shoes off and set the bag down near the nightstand. Before I get into bed with her, I squat down and grip the side of her cheek. “Do you still feel like you need to puke?”

  “No,” she says quietly. “I think everything has left my body at this point. I spent the entire night disposing of it.”

  “Okay. Can you do me a quick favor, Indie? Can you sit up and take down some of this?” I hold out one of my water bottles with one of my electrolyte tabs. “It’s the strawberry lemonade that you like.”

  She barely sits up and takes a sip. After a few deep breaths, she takes another sip.

  “That’s my girl.” I run my hand over her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face. “One more sip and then we can lie down.”

  She brings the bottle to her mouth, sips, and then hands it back, gingerly lying back down. I cap the bottle and set it on the nightstand. Instead of jumping into bed right away, I keep my hand on her face and rub her cheek with my thumb. Her skin is clammy, which I can only imagine is from the massive amount of vomiting she must have done throughout the night and funnily enough, it doesn’t bother me.

  After a few more strokes, I slip into bed with her and move my body up against hers, bringing my hand to her stomach and holding her tightly.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  I kiss her head and say, “For what?”

  “For missing out on leg day. I know how important it is for you to hit ninety-five.”

  “We’ll do it when you’re feeling better. For now, let’s get you some rest.”

  She sighs and melts into my hold. “I care about you, Lincoln.”

  Not sure where that came from, but I return the sentiment. “I care about you too, Indie.”

  “Always?” she asks.

  “Always, Mayhem.” I seriously cannot recall what life was like before I met her. Sure, I’ve had dozens of girls want me to hold them—and fuck them—but none have taken the time to understand me beneath the Brentwood baseball star. None of them know that I love weeding with my mom. That I include genuine people in my small circle. That I watch chick flicks with my best friend . . . and blame the movie watching on my moms.

  She’s silent for a few more seconds before she says, “I’m really glad our moms meddled. I don’t know what this school year would be like without you.”

  “Mine would be boring, that’s for damn sure.”

  She turns in my arms, and I lie on my back so she can rest on my shoulder. Her hand falls to my chest and she groans in frustration. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong, but when she moves her hand under the hem of my shirt and then slides it back up to rest on my bare chest, she mutters, “Better.”

  And then her breathing starts to slow, and I feel her fall asleep in what feels like seconds.

  Not me, though.

  I stare at the ceiling, Indie in my arms, wondering how the hell I got into this position—a man full of crazy feelings for a girl who’s turned his life upside down.

  What would life be like if our moms hadn’t meddled?

  I don’t even want to know, because there’s one thing I know for sure. I definitely wouldn’t have the same connection with Indie that I have now. A travesty.

  * * *

  “Scarlett, over here,” Hutton says, looking far too eager as he waves his arm across the dining hall. I’ve never seen him so consumed by a girl, and the funniest thing about it, Scarlett’s so clueless. “Scarlett.” He waves even harder.

  “Dude, I think your penis is shrinking by the second,” I say to Hutton, as I lean back in my chair.

  He glances at me and says, “Your girl is with her.”

  I sit up and look in the direction where Hutton is waving frantically and spot Indie, a giant smile on her face, laughing at something Scarlett just said as they approach.

  God, she’s . . . she’s beautiful.

  Sweats.

  Tight long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Worn-out Adidas shoes.

  Hair in a ponytail with a pink headband.

  No makeup.

  Yeah . . . she’s fucking beautiful.

  “That’s what I thought,” Hutton mutters just as the girls reach the table.

  Without invitation, Scarlett takes a seat on Hutton’s lap and reaches out and grabs one of the strawberries on his plate and plops it in her mouth.

  “Big daddy with the fruit hookup.” She holds one out to Indie. “Want one?”

  Sitting in the chair next to me, she shakes her head. “I’m good.” She then pokes my arm. “Are you going to just sit there or are you going to say hi?”

  I chuckle. “Just waiting for you to sit on my lap too.”

  “In your dreams, Castle,” she shoots back with sass, then grabs my Powerade and takes a drink from it.

  “Help yourself.”

  “I will.” She winks.

  “You haven’t kissed me yet,” Hutton says, squeezing Scarlett, who elbows him in the chest.

  “Just because I’m sitting on your lap, eating your fruit, doesn’t mean I need to kiss you. This is a free country. We women don’t have to pay up anymore. We have rights and I’ll damn well take advantage of them.”

  Oh shit, Hutton really has his hands full. I would not want to be in his shoes.

  “You can’t use that ‘I have rights’ shit.”

  “Didn’t seem to bother you the other night when I smacked your hand away from your cock and told you I had the right to suck your dick.”

  “Oh-kay,” Indie says, jumping in—thank God. “Maybe not a conversation for public, you guys.”

  “You don’t want me saying cock in the dining hall?” Scarlett asks with a grin.

  “Not really,” Indie says and then nudges my arm nodding at my broccoli. “Done with that?”

  Laughing, I nod. “Have at it, Mayhem.” She picks up my fork and helps herself.

  I can feel Scarlett’s intense gaze on us, and I have a feeling that because she’s not allowed to talk about Hutton’s cock in the dining hall, she’s about to direct her attention to me and Indie.

  “You know what Indie was boasting about last night?” Scarlett says. Yup, I was right.

  “What’s that?”

  “She couldn’t stop talking about how she’s a better athlete than you in all respects.”

  “Is that so?” I ask Indie with a lift to my brow.

  She finishes up her broccoli and says, “You already know this. Don’t act surprised.”

  “I know you think that, but I wasn’t aware of you smack-talking.”

  “It wasn’t smack-talking. It was laying out the evidence and being right.”

  Chiming in, Hutton says, “You really think you’re more athletic than Castle? The dude is one of the top pitching prospects in the country.”

  “Which is awesome, he knows how to throw a ball, but that doesn’t mean he’s more athletic. He’s already admitted to not being able to handle me on the soccer field. I know my feet are faster than his and my endurance is stronger. I’ve proven myself in air hockey and basketball—”

  “Hey, I won our basketball competition.”

  “Barely,” she scoffs. “And held my own in other challenges. When you weigh it all out, I’m clearly better.”

  “And self-aware,” I add, taking my drink from her.

  “You know, there’s only way to solve this,” Hutton says, hand on his chin. “You have to pitch to her. If she can hit off you, then that will solidify her theory.”

  “Oh, I would love to see her hit off me,” I say on a laugh.

  “Then let’s go.” She stands from the table. “Let’s go play some ball.”

  “You’re serious?” I ask, challenging her.

  She leans down, one hand on the back of my chair, the other on the table, her face inches from mine. “Dead serious.”

  Oh.

  It . . . is . . . on.

  * * *

  “Warmed up?” Asher asks, standing from a squatted position and lifting a catcher’s mask off his head.

  I nod, rotating my arm a few times.

  We ran into Asher in the stadium parking lot and when he asked what we were doing, I gave him a brief rundown, and the cocky grin I saw cross his mouth indicated he had to watch. Thankfully, he’s caught before, so he offered to sit behind the plate for me so Hutton didn’t have to.

  “You’re up, Indie,” Asher calls out and then puts his mask back on.

  We’re in the pitching cages, because Disik would kill us if we were on his field. I found a helmet and bat that would work for Indie and saddled her up. While I was warming up, she was hitting balls off the tee, and I was pretty impressed with her form.

  She very well might be able to make contact.

  “Pepps,” I call out and motion for Asher to come to the mound. He jogs up and just like in the games, I place my glove over my mouth as I talk quietly. “I’m going to lob some in there at first, and then pick up the pace, blow them by her.”

  “Got it.”

  We bump fists and he jogs back as Hutton holds up the netting and helps Indie inside.

  She looks adorable in the helmet and seeing her stand in the batter’s box—ready to try and best me—it makes me want to run up to her and just fucking hug her. Hug her so damn hard.

  “Ready, Mayhem?”

  “Oh, I’m ready.” She taps the plate. “Bring it, Castle.”

  “Hit him in the nuts,” Scarlett screams from behind the cages.

  “Yeah, hit him in the nuts,” Hutton repeats.

  “Dude,” I say, arms wide.

  He shrugs. “Scar said she’d suck me off if I rooted for Indie. She gives good head.”

  “Good head?” Scarlett asks, hands on her hips.

  “Scratch that, fucking mind-blowing head.”

  “Better.” Scarlett claps her hands. “Come on, right in the jewels, right in the jewels, Indie.”

  Directing my attention to Indie, I say, “Please don’t hit me in the balls.”

  “You nervous, Castle?” she asks, bat on her shoulder, determination in her stance. So irreverent. So fucking hot.

  “No, just making a simple request, that’s all.”

  “Enough with the chitchat,” Scarlett yells. “Let’s get this over with, as I have an orgasm to cash in on.”

  That girl is something else.

  “Good luck.” I nod at Indie and then get in position.

  Like I said to Asher, I take it easy and lob one in. She connects with it, hitting it right back at me. It’s not a hard hit, but it’s a hit that makes Scarlett whoop it up obnoxiously.

  “She owns you, Castle. Freaking owns you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I toss pitch after pitch, throwing them at about fifty percent, and Indie connects with them. Hutton whoops it up as well and the “crowd’ starts to grate on my nerves. It’s time. I nod at Asher and he nods back.

  I bring it up to about seventy-five percent.

  And she hits it.

  Okay.

  That was lucky.

  I throw another and another, and she makes contact with each ball. I pick up another ball and push my hand through my hair.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” she asks, a shake to her ass.

  “I was going easy on you. Settle down.”

  “Oh sure, okay.”

  “I was.” I fling my arm out to the side, clearly irritated with the goading from Hutton and Scarlett in the back, egging her on. Blow job or not, Hutton should be on my side, and Asher’s too much of a damn mute to say anything. He observes. So to say my blood pressure has skyrocketed is an understatement.

  “Uh-huh.” She taps the plate. “Then give me your best stuff.”

  “Fine, I will,” I snap. “Asher, all out.”

  “Got it,” he muffles from behind his mask.

  “He’s not going to burn anything past you,” Scarlett yells. “He’s weak. You are by far superior.”

  Scarlett needs to rein it in.

  I set my hands, look down at the mitt, lift my leg, and press off the mound while flinging my arm forward at full speed . . .

  Then watch in horror as the ball sails straight for Indie’s ass. She has zero time to move out of the way and she gets plunked, only to send her careening to the ground, the clatter of the bat following closely behind.

  “What the hell?” she yells as I stand there, stunned.

  “Charge the mound. Charge that mother-effing mound,” Scarlett says, clinging to the net, jumping up and down.

  “Oh my God, my ass. You bastard,” Indie says, rolling over and facing me. From the ground, she army crawls toward the mound, one arm moving her forward, the other holding the spot where I hit her, and I watch as she slowly makes her way toward me. “I can’t believe you hit me.” She takes a second, lifts up, and hobbles the rest of the way, then pushes at my chest.

  I chuckle and say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

  “Yes, you did.” She pushes me again and then tries to take me down. I let her. We fall to the ground and Scarlett cheers her on. Straddling me, Indie pushes on my chest and says, “You couldn’t stand that I was hitting off you, so you had to hit me. What kind of shit is that, Castle?” She’s smiling, so I ease up, let her do her thing.

  “The ball slipped out.”

  “Sure.” She leans down, her face close to mine. “You owe me.”

  I grip her hips, not caring who’s watching or how Hutton’s suggesting I roll her over and fuck her on the mound. Scarlett agrees with that idea and joins in on the chants. Asher stands there awkwardly unsure of what to do.

  “Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” I smile up at her.

  Her eyes darken and for a second, I think she’s going to answer. That the level of intimacy we’re at has sparked something inside of her, but then she pushes off my chest and she says, “I’ll let you know.”

  And then she hobbles away.

  “You would never be able to hit my ninety-five fastball.”

  She looks over her shoulder. “Yeah, because you can’t throw ninety-five.”

  “Oooo, burn,” Hutton says like an ass.

  * * *

  Indie: I’d like to cash in on what you owe me.

  Lincoln: That was quick. I thought you’d take a few days to think about it, not a few hours.

  Indie: I want an ass massage.

  Lincoln: Done. Let me get the lotion, and I’ll be right over.

  Indie: Not from you. My body is too revolting for you to touch, remember?

  Lincoln: I’ll take one for the team.

  Indie: My glute is so stiff, and if I can’t play on Saturday because your ego got the best of you, I WILL murder you in your sleep, Castle.

  Lincoln: All the more reason for me to massage it.

  Indie: No, it will hurt too much. How about some ice cream? Bring some over and I’ll forgive you.

  Lincoln: That I can do. Can I eat some with you?

  Indie: Meet me on the front steps.

  * * *

  “There he is, Mr. Macho Man himself.”

  I roll my eyes and hand her the soft serve order of ice cream she asked for while sitting on her front steps with her. “How’s your ass?”

  “I’m sitting on a cushion, you tell me.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “Oh okay, nice try, Castle.” She shakes her head while scooping up ice cream onto her spoon. “You’re not getting a free peep show.”

  “I’m serious,” I say. “Just show me the side. I want to make sure you’re treating it right.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Huffing, she sets her ice cream down, stands in front of me, and pulls down the left side of her sweats, showing me her left glute. I wince when it comes into view.

  “Shit.” I reach out and surprisingly, she lets me touch it. “Tender?” I ask as I examine the black and blue spot that’s already spreading on the meat of her ass.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Are you icing and adding compression?”

  “How do you expect me to wrap my ass?”

  “Huh . . . creatively?” I ask.

  She chuckles and lifts her sweats back up. “I’ll be fine. I’ll show our trainer tomorrow and she’ll help a girl out.”

  She sits back down with her ice cream and I bump shoulders with her. “I’m sorry, you know.”

  “I know,” she sighs, bumping my shoulder back.

  “I don’t like that I hurt you.” I barely eat my ice cream, feeling genuine remorse. “I let my emotions take over, which made me lose focus.”

  “It’s okay, Linc,” she says, hand on my arm. “It’s all part of the game and I’m tough. I can handle whatever you throw my way, even if it strikes me in the ass.”

  I chuckle and put my arm around her, bringing her into my chest. I press a kiss to the top of her head and hold her there for a second. “So you don’t hate me?”

  When I release her, she grips my chin and shakes it. “Never, Castle. I had fun.” She winks and goes back to her ice cream. “Now, tell me, how easy were you really taking it on me?”

  I laugh out loud and dip my spoon into the ice cream. “Let’s just say if I really pitched that hard, there’s no way I’d be here at Brentwood.”

  “Damn.” She laughs. “Well, I’m going to pretend it was full force, so when you’re famous and in the big leagues one day, I can say I got a hit off Lincoln Castle.”

  “And when you’re famous and drilling the soccer ball into the goal, I can say, I saw her ass cheek back in college.”

  She laughs and rests her head against my shoulder. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

  “Always.”

  Chapter Thirteen