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“Mike!”
Mike stopped in his tracks, steadying his breathing, bracing himself for the interaction ahead. Normally, just the sight of Ginny Baker's face, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and oh-so-eager to go 10 rounds with him over whatever topic she saw fit, was enough to cheer him up. Today, he wasn’t in the mood.
“Did you need something, Rookie?” Mike held in his sigh, turning to look at his teammate. Ginny was grinning back at him, as predicted.
“I do,” she announced, as though his whole damn life revolved around her. The first female pitcher in the league was standing there, dressed down in skintight leggings and a Nike hoodie, looking so unbearably beautiful that Mike wasn’t sure whether he wanted to turn tail, or shoot his shot.
“And let me guess,” he did sigh this time, his voice rumbling. “You need this something from me.”
“I do,” she bobbed on the balls of her feet. She was tinier out of her cleats, but still managed to loom tall. Ginny bounced right into his face, the dimple on her cheek in full display as she smiled mischievously at him. “Are you game, old man?”
Mike considered, biting his tongue, choking back a dozen responses, each as inappropriate as the next. “The whole team is supposed to be doing something, rookie.”
“I know,” predictably, she was not dissuaded. “I don’t want to hang out with the team. I want to hang out with you.”
Her casual statement caused his treacherous heart to clench, a familiar and deep longing rising dangerously close to the surface. “Rook, I’m not going to be good company tonight,” he settled on the safe and vague explanation. “I’m sure one of the other guys would be happy to help you with whatever plan is in that head of yours.” He pulled lightly at her ponytail, hoping it would be enough, that she would take this small defeat and leave him to his regrets.
“Nope,” she popped her lips on the single syllable, a childish, endearing sound. “I don’t want them. I want you.”
This statement brought them both up short, a charged silence growing between them like a chasm.
“Careful,” Mike spoke first, hoping he sounded like his usual smart-ass self. “People hear you talking like that, and they’ll know you’re in love with me.” He grinned, willing the blush that was creeping up his neck back down.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Your ego is big enough, old man. I don’t mean anything gross.”
“Sex with me is not gross,” Mike protested, feeling a bit more like his old self. “In fact, there’s plenty of women--”
“I got it,” Ginny held up her hand. “All of San Diego has seen your dick. That’s not what I’m asking about.” Her cheeks were flushed, even as the vulgar word left her mouth with authority.
It did the trick of catching him off guard, but didn’t stop him from smiling at her. “Well, not all,” he teased.
“Be serious,” she was close to pouting now. “I’m trying to be nice, Mike.”
“How nice?” he pressed, enjoying watching her embarrassment mount.
“Look,” she dropped her voice to a hurried whisper, her eyes falling to both of their shoes. “I know something has been bothering you--”
“--that’s none of your business, rookie--” his good humor faded. He’d done his damnedest to keep up appearances, laughing with the team, shooting the shit. Not even Blip had called him out. Of all the damn people in all the damn world, of course it would be Ginny. Of course.
“It is my business, if it starts affecting your game. Luckily the Rangers were no big deal, but--”
“Whoa, whoa,” Mike held up a hand. “Are you lecturing me, Baker?”
“No,” she huffed, all righteous indignation. “I’m asking you to go for a drive with me.”
“You want me to chauffer you around?” Mike asked, laughing. “That’s your bright idea to cheer me up?”
She scowled. “Look, Captain, there’s a lake not far from here and I thought it might be nice to just have a break.” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I’m sick of being stared at, and talked to, and I thought it might be nice to just go somewhere and look at something pretty. And I figured since you’ve been moping around for a week--”
“Hey…”
“--that you might want to come with me. That’s all.” Ginny kicked the sidewalk in front of them, digging the toe of her shoe in the way she did on the mound when she was refocusing.
The team around them was streaming out of the bus and into the hotel, laughing, jostling, preparing for a weekend off. In front of him, Ginny was standing there, refusing to meet his eye, irritated, and more than a little bit embarrassed. Mike’s mind spun, considering his options.
“Fine,” he clipped out. “Do you have a car?”
He tried to ignore the roiling of his stomach as she smiled again, looking like he’d just promised her the moon.
“I do!” she announced. “You ready?”
“Can I put my stuff down first?” he asked, amused despite himself.
“Nope,” she popped again. “You’ll just go in your room and sulk. You’re coming with me now.” Her pitching hand closed in around his wrist, dragging him bodily towards the parking garage. Mike let himself be pulled along.
He stood by while she dumped their belongings in the trunk, then hopped excitedly into the passenger seat of a nondescript SUV. Mike climbed into the driver’s seat, wondering how the hell he let her bait him into this.
“Well, boss, where to?” he asked, starting the car.
“Here,” she brandished her phone, pointing.
“Are you taking me out here to murder me?” he asked, half-joking. They’d been driving down backroads for almost a half hour. Street lights were few and far between. Ginny was now sitting, her knees pulled to her chest, sneaking looks at him in between humming off-key to pop songs on the radio.
She smirked, pausing her humming to glance up at him. “If I wanted to kill you, Captain, I’d bean you with a fastball to the knee.”
“Jesus, Gin--” Mike glanced over at her, shocked.
She laughed out loud, her smirk growing. “That’s the biggest reaction I’ve gotten from you all week,” she said.
Mike sucked at his teeth, turning his eyes back to the road. “Didn’t realize you were trying to get a reaction out of me.”
There was a beat of silence, broken only by the quiet hum of Beyonce on the radio.
“Well,” Ginny started, her voice oddly soft. “I was trying to distract you. Figured it was easier than getting you to talk.”
Mike’s stomach rolled again. “I’m talkative,” he countered. “Most of the time you want me to shut up.”
She snorted. “Only when you’re being an idiot. Which is most of the time, to be fair.”
“Hey now,” Mike shot her a warning look.
Ginny continued undaunted. “I don’t want you to shut up when something is bothering you.”
Mike swallowed. “What makes you think something’s bothering me?”
Ginny shrugged. “Something is. Right?”
Mike sighed. “Maybe.”
“I just figured we’re friends,” Ginny said, managing to sound petulant and concerned all at the same time.
“Baker--”
“You’re always trying to give me advice, trying to make me feel better,” she continued on, gaining speed. “I just thought you might talk to me when you feel…” she took a breath. “Shitty.”
“It’s not about you, Ginny,” Mike exhaled.
“I know,” she said, voice soft again. “I just wanted you to know you can tell me, if you need to. Or want to. Or--”
“Rachel’s getting married again,” Mike blurted out. He said it mostly to shut her up. Ginny would kill him if he ever called her on it, but he’d noticed her reaction to other women that got near him.
True to form, Ginny remained silent. The song on the radio switched. Ginny flicked the dial off. “You still love her?” she asked.
The question surprised him. “I thought I did,” he admitted.
“But maybe not?” she ventured.
“Maybe,” Mike steered the car towards a driveway, pulling into the parking lot of a picturesque lake. The park was largely empty, with a few cars littering the paved lot. Mike drove the rental away from them, killing the ignition. “Ok, now what?” he looked expectantly at his rookie.
Ginny unbuckled her seatbelt at once, crawling into the backseat. Mike turned away from the sight of her spandex covered derriere. “We’re going to go look at the stars.” She brandished a blanket.
“Jeez, Baker. Did you drag me all the way out here so we can tell each other ghost stories? We could have--”
“Mike,” Ginny snapped. “Shut up.” She hopped out of the SUV, her tennis shoes crunching the gravel beneath her. “Let’s go.”
Dutifully, he followed. He held in his comments as she meticulously laid out the blanket a few feet from the bank of the lake.
“Lay down,” she instructed, hands on her hips, looking at him expectantly.
“Yes, mom,” he deadpanned. Still, he lowered himself, his knees crying out in protest. The grass was soft beneath him, the stars overhead brighter than they ever were in the city.
“Just relax,” Ginny said confidently. She sat beside him, pulling a second blanket over both of their legs. When she laid down, Mike’s entire body seemed to seize up, hyper aware of her proximity. They’d been close before, hundreds of times, on the field and in the locker room. Still, laying out somewhere in public like this-- it was different.
“The stars are nice,” he fumbled for something to say, attempting to locate his old confidence.
“They are,” Ginny said, her voice breathy, quiet.
Mike chanced a glance at her. Her profile was silhouetted against the moonlight shining off the lake. It hurt to even look at her.
“So Rachel,” Ginny began, her eyes still far off, way above in the constellations. “What is it you miss about her?”
“About Rachel?” the question disarmed him.
“Yeah,” Ginny shrugged, her shoulders ruffling against the blanket. “I know she hurt you, and I know she’s still doing it, but there’s something about her you miss. Tell me.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you're bossy, Baker?” he accused, snorting.
“Mike…” that whine again, though this time, her lips curved into the hint of a smile.
“Fine…” Mike considered this. “She wasn’t perfect, but she was...comfortable, you know?”
Ginny’s eyebrows jumped. “People aren’t comfortable, Lawson.”
“Oh yeah?” Mike looked at her. “Is that what you know, Rookie? Tell me all about the expertise of someone who isn’t even a quarter century old.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m younger than you, sure,” she scoffed. “But I’ve lived a little bit, Mike. Sweatpants are comfortable, beds are comfortable, blankets, and showers, and junk food--those are comfortable,” she listed. “Loving people is a lot of things. I wouldn’t call it comfortable.”
In the distance, a car started, startling the pair of them. Ginny jerked closer to him, her hand clenching his arm for the briefest of moments. She let go quickly.
“Like I said,” she cleared her throat, laying back down again. “Love isn’t comfortable.” She glanced at him, clearly waiting for Mike to argue.
He licked his lips. The air seemed to have gone out of his lungs. “You might have a point, Rookie.”
She looked surprised, but then smiled. Dramatically, she moved closer to him. “So, tell me something real that you miss about her.”
Mike chuckled. “I miss--” he sighed. “If you tell anyone--”
“What? That the famous Mike Lawson has a heart?” she poked him.
He caught her hand, holding it under the guise of stopping her assault. “She used to play with my hair,” he admitted. “Helped me sleep.” He braced himself for her teasing.
“Huh,” Ginny looked thoughtful. She pulled her hand back. A moment later, her long, slender fingers were in his hair, running through the thick locks slowly.
“Baker, you don’t have to--”
“Shush,” she chastised. Her other hand joined the first, tugging and plying. The fingertips dragged across his scalp, scratching gently. Within moments, his body began to relax.
“Gin, seriously,” he muttered. He wanted to pull back, but his muscles seemed frozen.
“Mike,” her fingers halted. “If you want me to stop, I will. But if you’re just being weird because you think I’m going to tell, or use it against you, then--” he heard her swallow.
He laid still, ceasing his complaining. “All right,” he acquiesced, settling down.
Even in the dark, he could see her smile.
Mike focused on the movements of her hands. He thought he could recognize some of the motions, the way she moved her fingers across the laces of the ball, the way her wrists twisted when she wound up to throw her trademark pitch. He’d memorized them all because it was part of the job, part of what made him an All-Star catcher. He didn’t dwell on why he was committing this all to heart now. Whatever the reason, her attention worked, lulling him off to dreamland within minutes.
He woke up still beside her, the cool air chilling him. Ginny was laying on her side, her hands still against him. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Mike froze, loathe to move an inch.
“You’re up,” she sighed, smiling. Her eyes fluttered open.
“I thought you were sleeping,” his voice came out far gravlier than he intended, the deep rumble that Rachel used to call his sex voice. It made Ginny’s smile widen all the more.
“Just keeping you company, Captain,” she teased.
Groaning, he lifted his arm, glancing at his watch. “It’s after midnight,” he said in surprise.
“You slept a while,” Ginny was nonplussed. She stood up, dusting herself off. “Come on, Lawson. You have to drive us back.”
She sang again in the car, but Mike didn’t mind, keeping his comments mostly to himself as she stumbled her way through what seemed like Rihanna’s entire discography. He handed her the keys once they made it back safely into hotel’s parking garage.
“See?” she asked him. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“No,” he agreed. “It wasn’t.”
She twirled the keys in her hand, clearly on the brink of saying something. “For the record,” Ginny began. “I think she’s an idiot. Rachel I mean.”
Mike laughed. “How do you figure?” he asked, heart-pounding.
“You’ve got nice hair.” Ginny shrugged. “Seems like the kind of thing worth keeping around.” Her dimple made another appearance.
Mike knew in a moment, that one day, probably soon, he would lose his fight to maintain this facade of friendship. He would start by kissing that dimpled cheek, and then get on with kissing the rest of her. It might not have been a good idea, but it was inevitable, and he thought that both of them might have known it.
Tonight though, he only grinned, tugging at her ponytail. “Thanks, Rookie,” he said.
She stuck out her tongue, slapping his hand away. “Anytime, old man.”