Page 3 of Under the Influence

“Oh, you live here?” She questions as I stand up to make my way across the grass.

“No, this is Carson’s house. I live down the street.”

She grins, “Ah, Carson. I think I’ve heard his name once or twice.”

Of course, she has. Carson is a rich fourteen-year-old YouTuber.

I roll my eyes at the thought, “Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“Let’s go,” she smiles. I follow her over to the cage and watch as she picks up one of the helmets off the rack and pushes it down over her head.

“You wanna hit?” I ask, flipping the switch to turn the machine on.

“I either hide over here with you or endure Jovie’s bragging about her perfect life. It’s an easy choice.”

I smile, tossing her a bat. “Show me whatcha got.”

Her mouth shifts into a wicked grin, dimples in her cheeks sending warmth into the depth of my chest.

“Turn the speed up!” She shouts over the dinging sound of the aluminum bat.

She doesn’t skip a beat, hitting the balls like a professional as I turn the pitching speed faster.

“Where did you learn to hit like that?” I ask. Pushing the helmet down over my head and stepping into her spot at the plate.

“My dad taught me,” is her short response, almost like I struck a nerve or pried open a stitched-up wound. She plops down in one of the chairs outside the cage and trash-talks me the entire time, making me completely lose focus. I toss the bat onto the ground taking the chair next to her.

“If you don’t like Jovie, why are you her boyfriend?” Cori asks.

“It’s a long story,” I admit, turning my gaze to the ground, knowing I can’t trust anyone enough to tell them the truth about what I know, about what Jovie knows.

She quickly jumps out of her chair, standing in front of me with her arms crossed. “Let’s make a deal.”

I choke out a laugh, “What might that be?”

“I bet I can strike you out,” she snaps, closing in on me, caging me into the chair with her arms.

I burst out in laughter as her eyes turn dark.

“Yeah, right!” I scoff, remembering my batting average is the best on the team.

“If I strike you out, you have to break up with Jovie and quit lying to everyone. You know, be… free.”

“And if you don’t?” I ask, wondering what the hell could possibly be in it for me.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” she drawls, dragging out the “whatever you want” part. “But I have to go back to Chicago tomorrow. We’re just here for the weekend.”

“Okay,” I agree. “If I get a hit, you have to kiss me.”

The demand leaves my lips before I really think it through.

Her eyes lock on mine, unafraid, “Deal.”

She backs away, grabbing a ball from the bin next to the helmets.

“Toss me a glove,” she smirks, and I throw it to her, picking my bat up off the ground.

“I know the pressure is on and all, but don’t choke,” she teases, taking her spot on the grass.