As practice ended, the guys were sitting towards the shade, some spread out on the grass. They were all watching Chris, who appeared to be in the middle of some grand speech, and both the head coach and assistant coach stood with their arms folded shaking their heads.
“What’s going on?” I asked Mandy.
She looked up and smiled. “He’s doing the big speech.”
“The big speech?”
“Before a game Chris usually gives everyone a pep talk. He’s pretty good at—a good mix of encouragement and trash talk.” She got up, placing her camera gently on the seat. “Come on.” She pulled two large water bottles out of her bag. “Let’s see what he has to say about beating Baylor next week.”
“Are we allowed on the field?” I asked, but dutifully followed. She handed me one of the bottles and I and got a pretty good idea of what she was up to. Getting involved wasn’t a good professional move, but hell, I had gone to a frat party last night and behaved myself, surely I could raise a little hell this morning.
“Practice is over. The guys don’t mind.” Mandy unscrewed the lid of her water bottle and hid it behind her back. Some of the players on the field noticed her and wisely began inching away from Chris. He didn’t seem to notice, as he was completely lost in his own speech.
“And we’re going to kick their ass because we have the best pitcher in the league—” he shot a look at Nathan, who had been watching me. Mandy and I froze, worried that Chris would turn around, but Nathan’s eyes zoomed back to Chris and he crossed his arms.
“You still can’t decorate my truck,” Nathan retorted, to the amusement of the rest of the players who hooted and cheered.
“It’s a show of pride, my friend.”
“It’s my truck,” Nathan told him, firmly. “You don’t touch it.”
“Pretty rousing speech,” Mandy offered and Chris whirled around. His face lit up at the sight of her.
“Thank you,” he agreed. “I’m good at getting people worked up,” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Getting them hot.”
Mandy caught my eye and I quickly unscrewed the cap on the water bottle I had hidden behind my back.
“Well.” Mandy gave Chris a wicked grin. “Better cool off then,” she said as she dumped the entire bottle of water over his head. And before he could even respond, I did the same.
The team broke out in cheers and laughter as Chris sputtered, water soaking his uniform.
He shook his head, spraying all of us. Mandy laughed and Chris narrowed his eyes, a playful smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he told her.
“Am I?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Oh yeah,” he promised, and before she could move, he had grabbed her around the hips and pulled her towards the water table where cups of water were neatly lined up. Grabbing one, he dumped it over her head. She shrieked and wiggled out of his grasp, but he wasn’t done.
“Get ’em!” he shouted at the rest of the team and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was included in that statement. I whirled around, just barely missing the cup of water that was tossed in my direction. I yelped as it hit me in the back, a refreshing splash of water soaking me through. The player that had thrown it gave me a not-so-sheepish shrug.
Sprinting towards the refreshment table, I managed to grab two cups of water before full-on madness broke out.
Suddenly water was splashing everywhere, everyone grabbing for cups of water and flinging them every which way. I ducked and twisted, trying to avoid any huge splashes, but still getting hit on my side and legs. It felt amazing in the heat, and I was having fun, laughing and running, dodging ballplayers and streams of water. Through the melee, I saw both Mandy and Chris, still locked in each other’s arms.
Distracted, I didn’t look where I was going and ran smack dab into someone. But the moment my hands went up, grabbing at firm muscle and strong biceps, I knew that it was Nathan. I looked up through my wet hair to find him staring down at me, both of us soaked, our clothes plastered to our bodies.
“What do we have here?” he smirked.
He had a hose in his hand and water was gushing all over my shoes.
“Gimme that,” I demanded, reaching for it, but he pulled away. I looked down at his body and wished that I hadn’t. Wet, white pants made for quite the visual. My mouth went dry.
But I couldn’t grab for him, so I reached again for the hose instead. He held it back, just out of my grasp.
“Give it to me!” I demanded.
I grabbed once again for the hose, this time managing to get a grip on it. But Nathan wouldn’t let go. This was a tug of war, and I was determined to win.
Nathan looked me in the eye, his own eyes glinting. “Hey Sophie, can’t get enough of my hose?”
“You wish,” I shot back, tightening my hold.
I gritted my teeth and gave the hose a sudden yank. He held firm. I guess I had to bring out the big guns. I thrust out my chest, taking full advantage of my wet T-shirt. Nathan faltered, his gaze fixed on my boobies. A-ha! The hose loosened in his grasp—now was my chance.
I ripped it away from Nathan and pressed my thumb over the end of the hose, directing the full force of the spray right into his chest.
“Triumph is mine,” I hollered.
“Not so fast.” He lunged for the hose, bending it so the water stopped. Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to have the last water word.
I pulled the hose back toward me, but evidently too hard, stumbling backward and in the process losing control of it and spraying myself fully in the face. It burned up my nose, and I got the horrible feeling I was going to cry.
“Now you know how it feels,” he taunted.
“Fuck you, Nathan Ryder.”
Nathan quickly grabbed the hose away, but I let him have it. I was already wet and embarrassed and totally pissed. “Sophie, I—” he said apologetically, but I threw up my hand and stalked away.
Mandy ran over to me. “Are you OK?” she asked, somehow procuring a towel, which I used to dry my face. When I was finished, I noticed that most of the players had disappeared into the locker room. Including Nathan.
Oh no, I thought. He wasn’t going to get away so easily.
I needed to get my interview with him. But I also knew that every time I tried to ask him something personal, he dodged the question and ended up turning it around to where I was either admitting something about myself or leaning in to kiss him.
The thing that killed me was that I knew that half of my co-workers already thought that I had slept my way into my position, despite the fact that my editor-in-chief was a happily married father of three who had made absolutely no advances toward me and was generally a pretty decent guy. Unlike most of the senior staffers I worked with, who made no effort to hide the predatory looks they gave me. Surely most of them figured I had gotten this assignment—interviewing a young, handsome athlete—because I was also young. And no doubt, they assumed I was going to use my feminine wiles (aka my boobs) to get what I wanted from him. And the last thing I wanted was to prove them right.
I was tired of this. I wanted my interview. And if Nathan thought I was going to be deterred by him going into the locker room, well, he was just wrong.
“Sophie!” I heard Mandy call behind me as I pounded down the stairs into the dugout. “Sophie, where are you going?!”