Page 5 of Hiding in the Outfield

I turn back to the unnamed man. “So, before we were so rudely interrupted…” I shoot a glare at Dev. “You were going to tell me your name. I take it you’re not a pitcher. I know most of those from Pauls.”

He finally meets my gaze, and I barely hold back my sigh. He’s got such pretty eyes. A rich blue with little gray flecks. He really is exquisite. Those dark eyebrows sit on a heavy brow that has him looking perpetually broody. Combine that with his angular jawline and prominent cheekbones. Yum. Ugh, and his bottom lip? It’s so fucking plush. Double yum.

“Um. Yeah. Not a pitcher.”

I size him up and tap my lip. “Outfielder is my guess. You’re big. Built. Not easy to tell from sitting down, but you look tall. Home run stealing tall.”

He blinks at me. “Wow. Yeah, I’m the center fielder.”

“Just get the call-up? I haven’t seen you around.”

Those heavy brows pinch. “Yeah, last week. You…follow the Clippers?”

I cock my head and slide on a flirty smile. “Why the surprise? Gay men can’t appreciate baseball?”

His face pales. “Um. I don’t really know what people like you think.”

Oh, honey. There’s my answer to Will Frankie try to go there? It’s a big fucking no. This closeted boy falls into the category of dangerous.

I push back from the table. “Well, as fun as it is flirting with a bunch of sexy jocks where the only switch-hitters are the boring kind, I think it’s time for me to find someone to have some fun with.”

“You leaving?” Paulie asks

“Not yet, little bro.” I wink. There was a guy at the bar eyeing me earlier. “But hopefully soon.”

I turn toward Mr. People Like You. “I never did catch your name, sweetheart. Mine’s Frankie since I know you’re dying to know.”

His gaze darts away. “Olander.”

“A pleasure, Ollie-baby.” Just not in the way I would have hoped.

No matter. I glide off toward the bar. The man from before has already spotted me. He points to the seat next to him, and I send him a sly smile. I never have any shortage of options.

I’m well aware of how pretty I am.

TWO

JACKSON

I think Nebiolo’s brother is the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

I have never been flustered by a man. I struggled for a while when I was younger. I wasn’t as skilled at hiding when I crushed on a guy, but I’ve grown past that. I’m completely in control of myself now. I’m locked up tight.

This fortress is impenetrable.

But Nebs’s brother? I could barely string two words together.

Fortunately, Dev read that as discomfort. It wasn’t. The way my gut erupted in uncomfortable flutters brought me back to when I was a freshman in high school playing varsity ball. I’d been the youngest member on the team and earned the attention of Trevor Lafeyette—the team captain. A very attractive, very talented captain.

It wasn’t a revelation. I’d always noticed boys. Never girls. But that was the first time I’d been infatuated, can’t get him out of my head about a guy. Every time he smiled at me, my insides froze, and I forgot how to breathe.

I learned how to stifle that side of me. You do what you have to to survive. You can’t be gay in my town. In my family.

And you definitely can’t be gay in professional sports.

Very few male professional athletes have come out, and most waited until retirement. You think that’s a coincidence? It’s not. It’s not safe for us. The autobiography by one of my idols is burned into my memory. It’s still beneath the floorboard in my bedroom back home. Out at Home by Glenn Burke. A center fielder like me. Gay like me. Was blackballed out of baseball because of it.

I grew up in a family of jocks. My father played college football, my brother followed in his footsteps and is now an assistant coach, and then there’s me in baseball. I’ve known from day one that this is a part of me that won’t get to see the light of day until my baseball career’s over.