Page 34 of Convincing the Catcher

Her bare shoulder is still exposed, and the way she’s looking at me … my being this close to her—fuck, I just want to kiss her. I know I shouldn’t want to, and I know I can’t, but damn it, I’d give anything to be able to.

Our eyes stay locked, and my pulse quickens when she bites her bottom lip. I swallow harshly, moving barely an inch closer, not wanting to scare her by doing it too fast.

Before I can think about moving even closer though, she takes the syringe from me and covers its tip before tucking it away. Fixing her shirt, she doesn’t turn back toward me again, and I know right now, I need to stop thinking about kissing the catcher’s plump lips.

I’m a guy who has always hated needles, and yet I just asked Harley to teach me how to give an insulin injection because if she ever needs me to, I want to be prepared.

“You know what we should do?” she says suddenly, a little smirk tugging at her lips.

“What’s that?” I murmur, hoping she says get naked because that would be fucking great. Though, I’d settle just to kiss her, in all honesty.

“We should do one of those trends with the music in the background for your socials.” She lifts her brows up and down a few times. “Since, you know … our followers will love it.”

I study her face for a moment before I chuckle. “All right, Catch. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

She pulls her phone out and taps her fingers on the screen. After studying something for a few moments, she smiles at me. “We have to get someone to record us. This one will be hilarious.”

When a couple is about to get in their car in front of my truck, her eyes light up, and she pushes the door open.

“Oh, fuck …” I murmur. “She’s really about to ask these strangers to record this shit.”

I’m quick to get out of the truck just as she’s approaching the woman.

“So, this is a weird request, but could you record a super short video for me and my friend?”

At first, the woman seems a little caught off guard, but then the man she’s with narrows his eyes before smiling. “Holy shit, you’re Tripp Talmage’s kid!” He practically gasps. “I’m a huge fan of your old man, kid. But I hear you’re quite the baseball player.” He holds his hand out to Harland. “Of course, we’ll record your video, guys.”

His wife looks from us to her husband before eventually shrugging. “I’m going to warn you, Paul here isn’t the best at using technology, so it better be pretty straight forward.”

“Sure is,” Harley smiles. “He just has to press record.”

“I can do it, Pam,” he utters, looking at the screen before he awkwardly gives us a thumbs up.

“Catch, what the heck have you gotten me into?” I say when she steps toward me.

“Do you know the song ‘What’s Up’?” she whispers. “You know … ‘hey-yay-hey-yay’ …”

“Everyone knows that song,” I utter before my eyes widen. “Oh … you want to do that trend? The one where one of us sings that song and the other one sings the song about the bees or whatever?” I pause. “Which one am I?”

“Uh, definitely the ‘What’s Up’ song, Baseball Boy,” she all but snorts. “Anyway, you know the words?”

I stare at her. “You’re giving me the less badass part.”

She pats my chest. “Because I’m the baddie here, babe.” She winks. “Let’s do this.” She whirls her head toward Paul and Pam. “Okay, you can press start now, and I’ll just crop the video.”

Positioning herself behind me, I gulp when I feel her ass press against my body. And even though having her this close is distracting me from making an absolute idiot of myself, I do what she wants me to. She’s right, too. Our followers are going to love this shit.

It’s hard for both of us to keep a straight face during our parts, and it takes a few extra takes—and probably more of Paul’s time than Pam would like—but eventually, we get it done.

“Thanks again!” Harland beams at them. “You two are the real MVPs tonight.”

I thank them before I turn toward my truck. With each take, Paul asked me about three questions about Tripp, and I’m scared if I hang around here too long, he’ll just go ahead and ask me for my parents’ address on top of it.

I open the door for Harland, and once she’s inside, I shut it and head to the driver’s side. Climbing in, I pull my door shut and glance over at her. She smiles at her phone.

“All right, let me just tell you, people are going to love this.” She taps on the screen. “Let me just fix a few things and then I’ll show you.”

Patiently, I wait, and within five minutes, she holds the phone in front of me and I read the caption Pitchers verses Catchers before I start singing “What’s Up” and the camera moves to her as she sings Nikki Minaj’s part. She moves with so much sass that it makes my dick twitch in my pants, and I swallow roughly. Once it’s done, she smacks my shoulder a few times—clearly excited.