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I was right. Must have killed her to ask one of my sisters or Rae for my number.
Levi: Hey Briggsy. Knew you’d get my number somehow
860-555-1212: I just need a book.
I can pick up on her ice queen thing even through text.
Levi: What book?
860-555-1212: Anatomy.
Levi: The Kama Sutra?
I wish I could see her face right now. I palm my cock. Nothing else to do, so I might as well take advantage of the hard-on fucking with her gives me.
860-555-1212: If you need a picture book…
So she’s got jokes.
Levi: Some people are more visual.
860-555-1212: Forget it. I’ll find another tutor.
Levi: Calm down, Briggsy. I’m on my way to practice, and I can drop it by your dorm after. Is it the atlas book?
860-555-1212: I have practice, and yes, the atlas one.
Levi: I’ll bring it by there then. On the field or in the basement?
They have a setup in the basement of the athletic building with batting cages and enough space for pitching and fielding drills. They can do just about anything but play an actual game down there.
860-555-1212: Basement. We’ll be done around 7.
Levi: I’ll see you there.
She doesn’t reply, not that I figured she would. She’s a girl of few words, and it kills her to have to talk to me.
Looking at the time, I try to decide what the fuck I’m going to do with this hard-on. Knowing I don’t have time to call anyone to take care of it without being late for practice, I groan in frustration as I head back to the bathroom for a cold shower. I don’t even have time to rub one out. This chick is gonna be a pain in my ass. Fun, but still a pain.
I slip quietly into the basement training center, careful not to let the door make any noise behind me. My dad will kick my ass if I disrupt his practice. Making my way across the bright green AstroTurf, I slide onto the bleachers scanning the space for Saffron. My gaze sweeps over the girls milling about, most of whom I’ve fucked around with until my eyes settle on the hot piece of ass on the pitcher's mound. Saffron Briggs is wearing black spandex pants, a flame dancing up the side of her leg, a white tee with the sleeves ripped off, and a red sports bra playing peek-a-boo every time she lifts her arm. My interest piqued, I watch as she licks her fingers, adjusting her grip on the ball before letting it fly. The little grunting noise she makes on release just makes me wonder what kind of noises she’ll make in bed. Not happy with that pitch, she makes an adjustment to her stance, licks her fingers, looks at the plate over the top of her glove, and lets it fly again. I look at the speed clock on the wall and let out a low whistle. Holy shit. Seventy-three miles per hour. My dad wasn’t joking. Briggsy has a cannon! The world record is seventy-seven or some shit. That level of badassery just makes her even hotter.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” my dad asks from the bottom of the bleachers.
“You lucked out, old man. Stella was great, but that’s some serious speed.”
“Yeah, she throws at that speed no matter the pitch. It’s impressive as hell.” Propping his foot on the bench next to me and leaning on his knee, he narrows his eyes at me. “I know you’re not here to talk about Saffron’s pitching speed. What are you doing here, son?”
“Don’t worry, Dad, I’m not here to take advantage of any of your players or convince them to skip practice and come back to my place, just bringing Briggsy a book she asked for.” My dad doesn’t look certain at first.
“Your lack of trust hurts, Dad,” I kid, pulling out the anatomy book from my bag. When he nods in approval, I snort out a laugh. “You’re the one who asked me to tutor her. You know that in order to do that, I’m going to have to be around her, right?”
“Don’t make me regret it, Levi. I mean it,” he warns.
“I won’t. Plus, she hates me, so you’re safe there.”
My dad snorts out a laugh. “Don’t try to bullshit me, son. The chase is what it’s all about. I was young once too, you know.”
“You were?” I can’t help but tease him.
