Roommates With Benefits: A Reverse Harem Romance by Cassie Cole

Author:Cassie Cole [Cole, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Juicy Gems Publishing
Published: 2023-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

27

Riley

I stood on the pitcher’s mound, leaning in so I could read the sign from my catcher. His fingers were wrapped with reflective tape, allowing me to see more easily as he gave me an inverted peace sign. Two fingers. A change-up.

That was my weakest pitch. I shook him off.

He put down one finger, which meant fastball. I gave a single nod, and stood up straight with my foot on the rubber of the mound. I adjusted the ball in my glove, finding the stitches for the proper grip. I twisted my head 180 degrees to check the runner on second base, ensuring that he wouldn’t steal. Then I turned back to the plate, where the batter was waiting, and fired a fastball in there.

I was aiming for the inside part of the plate, where the batter struggled to hit. But my location was off, and the fastball shot right down the middle of the plate. It was a meatball, and the batter turned on it with ease. The crack of the bat was like a gunshot, and I flinched instinctively. The ball soared through the air and over the left field fence, but I didn’t have the stomach to watch it. I held my glove open toward home plate, waiting for the umpire to give me a new ball while the batter jogged the bases for his home run.

I had been struggling since returning to the team. The pressure was getting to me, and the coach wasn’t very helpful when it came to figuring out what was wrong with my mechanics. It didn’t help that I was genuinely afraid of the ball, terrified that every time the batter swung, he would send a missile directly at my head.

Up to this point, I had been avoiding looking at the scoreboard. I knew it was bad, but I hadn’t realized that was my sixth run given up in four innings. Prior to that pitch, we were up a run. Now we were down.

With every game I pitched, I could feel my draft stock tanking. The worse I did, the more I thought about it, which in turn made me pitch worse. It was a spiral of negativity that I couldn’t get out of.

Just focus on the next batter, I told myself. Get him out, and the inning is over.

But my coach was coming out of the dugout and walking toward the mound. I turned away and clenched my jaw. Not like this, goddamnit.

“Give me the ball, son,” he said when he arrived, holding out his palm.

I covered my mouth with my glove so nobody could tell what I was saying. “Let me finish the inning,” I insisted.

Coach didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, palm held out. I slapped the ball into it and stalked off the mound, avoiding looking at the bleachers where my roommates were watching.

Their presence did calm me down a little. As frustrating as my life was right now, I was lucky to have Leslie. Thinking about her soothed the burning anger in my chest.

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