Falling for the Rookie (Fan Girl Book 1) Read online

  Falling for the Rookie

  A FanGirl Novel

  Trish Williford

  First Edition, March 2018

  Copyright ©2018 by

  Trish Williford

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Cover Design by Cover Couture

  www.bookcovercouture.com

  Photo Copyright: Jessica Hutzel

  Dedication

  For Nanna...

  Proof that fangirls come in all ages.

  I miss you.

  Chapter One: Melody

  Most people have that one particular day of the year they excitedly look forward to. Christmas. A birthday. An anniversary. None of the above make the butterflies in my stomach flutter or keep me awake the night before. The day I anxiously await all year comes in the spring, and it’s one that avid baseball fans, such as myself, count down the days for: opening day, the first official day of the major league baseball season.

  And opening day just happens to be today.

  There is an extra spring in my step as I make the trek from my condo to Blue Stadium, home of the Baltimore Blue Birds. The sun is bright in the early afternoon sky and is welcome to most of the east coasters after a long, cold, damp winter. A slight chill is still in the air, but that isn’t unusual for early April in Baltimore, Maryland.

  I hold my ticket securely in my hand as I weave through the crowds of excited fans that have already gathered outside of the gates for today’s game. Because I am a season ticket holder, I bypass the large lines and head to a side gate where I am granted early access.

  Growing up, Blue Stadium had become my second home. My parents were season ticket holders since before I was born, and once I was old enough, I had my very own seat beside theirs. Baseball for the three of us was more than just a past time, it was our family’s tradition. During the spring and summer months, we spent countless days inside the stadium rooting on our Birds.

  But it's not just nostalgia that gives me the all the feels. It’s the sea of blue clad fans. The smell of buttered popcorn, hot dogs and fresh cut grass. The announcer's familiar voice introducing our players. It’s the overall buzz of excitement and love of the game from other fans make me feel at home.

  I enter the stadium and a warm feeling spreads through me at the familiar sight of the perfectly manicured field and the several concourses of blue seats waiting to be filled by fans. I smile as I see the players, new and veteran, stretching along the first baseline. Although I haven’t been in this stadium since last September, it feels like I’m at home.

  I took the steep, concrete stairs down towards the field where my seats are located. I sit in seat seven of row one, section eighteen, which has been my assigned seat since I was three years old. I buy seats six, seven and eight each year, but today, the chairs on each side of me are empty. I always keep these seats vacant on opening day in remembrance of my parents. This season will mark ten years since they died in a car accident on their way home from a game. This is the place where we made so many memories as a family, and I feel like they are with me when I'm here. That's why I've bought these same three seats each year for the season, keeping our tradition going.

  "Little Mel, happy opening day!" A deep, gruff voice called out from behind me. I turned in my chair, smiling broadly at Clay Scott, another season regular whose seat is behind mine. He sat his beer down and opened his long arms. "Lay one on me, kiddo!" I stood and hugged the elderly man who I've grown to consider family. His seat has been behind mine for as long as I can remember. "Uncle Clay, it's so good to see you."

  It takes him a moment longer to sit in his seat than it did last year, slowly lowering himself with the help of his cane. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just a little stiff from off season." He claimed. I watched as he took off his hat and picked up his beer, then tapped the back of the seats on each side on me. He held the cup in the air, then took a drink. This has been Clay's way of remembering my parents on each opening day since they passed. The thoughtful gesture brings tears to my eyes every year, so I turn around to blink them away.

  I watch the players warm up on the field close to our section and paid attention to some of the new players. Besides the game itself, there is one other aspect of baseball that I love; the players' asses. There is nothing better to look at than a nice ass in those tight, white pants. I was catching up with some of my favorite butts of the team when Clay poked me with his cane. "Did you hear we picked up a new catcher? Lawrence is his name. Young kid out of New Mexico. Paper said they brought him up from the minors. His batting average isn't bad. I just hope they know what they're doing." He sighed.

  "I heard we picked up Lawrence, but I don’t know much about him. But I did see we scored Ross. Although we should have passed on him since he has played like shit for the last two seasons, he’s at least nice to look at." There has been a huge buzz surrounding Nathan Ross, our newest short stop. The team signed him for a three year contract, gaining him from the New York White Socks. He's giving high hopes to the clubhouse and fans, making him the franchise's new golden boy. Personally, I think he’s just a big name and nothing more, but hopefully I’m wrong.

  Clay rubbed his hands together, a determined look spread across his face. “This is going to be our year, Little Mel. I can feel it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  ***

  Three hot dogs and two hours later, Clay’s tone changed.

  "Well, I hope this game isn't any indication of the upcoming season. My old ass might die of boredom back here." He groaned at the bottom of the third inning, the score stuck at zero to zero.

  "It could be worse. They could be losing." I said over my shoulder.

  He grumbled to himself as golden boy was announced. "Let's see if this Ross kid is worth all that money."

  Nathan Ross took his first swing, a strike. The second pitch hit him in the lower leg. He brushed it off, taking his spot at first base. My seats are directly beside first base, and I was able to get an up close look at Nathan.

  Yeah…he’s just as hot in person. Even if he plays like shit all season, he’ll at least be good to look at.

  “He’s not worth all that damn money. Piece of shit.” Clay was still groaning behind me, interrupting me from checking out Nathan.

  "He could have struck out. Calm down." I told him.

  "Now batting, number thirty-one, catcher Carson Lawrence."

  "Come on Lawrence!" Clay shouted.

  The first pitch was called a ball as Lawrence watched it pass outside the batter’s box. The second pitch tipped off his bat, a foul called.

  "Son of a bitch, this kid won't be worth a damn either." Clay complained.

  His negativity has already worn my patience to near non-existent. I turned around completely, pointing my finger at him. "Stop it, grumpy gills. You’re not going to be a Debbie Downer this entire season. So what if the game is getting off to a slow start? This is our team and we are going to support them, regardless what the scoreboard says. I don't care-"

  The crack of the wooden bat was loud, bringing me back to the game. "Where did he hit it?" I asked, searching towards the outfield.

  "Look out!" Clay yelled, pointing to the sky. I looked up, but bright sun rays were blinding me. All of a sudden, I caught sight of the white ball and watched its red stitching come closer and closer to me.

  To my face.

  And hitting me right between the eyes and knocking me out cold.
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  Chapter Two: Carson

  My first at bat in the majors, and I hit someone with a foul ball.

  Fuck me.

  Paramedics and the grounds crew rushed to the fan's side on the first baseline while I stood frozen at home plate. My stomach churned at the thought of seriously injuring a fan.

  Please don't be a kid. Please don't be a kid.

  "Way to go, rookie. I'm pretty sure you knocked her the hell out." Moe Wright, the catcher for Houston said behind me.

  I looked back over to the stands in horror. "It was a girl?"

  "Lawrence!" I heard Coach Anthony yell from the dugout. "Come on, get your head in the game. Let's go!"

  He was right. This was my first major league game and I couldn't afford to screw it up. I took my stance again, watching the pitcher prepare to throw the ball. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a stretcher carried over to the large group of people surrounded around the girl.

  "Fuck." I mumbled. I stepped out of the batter’s box and looked at the umpire. "Time. I need to go check on her."

  The umpire lifted his mask, his gray eyebrows pressed tightly together. "Are you drunk, kid?"

  Drunk? No. Insanely stupid? Possibly. But my mother raised me to right your wrongs.

  I could hear her voice in my head.

  Always be a gentleman, Carson. Be the bigger person.

  I know it was an accident, but I wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until I made sure that she was okay and not seriously hurt. I tossed my bat towards the dugout and jogged over to the crowd.

  "LAWRENCE! GET YOUR ASS BACK TO THE PLATE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?" Coach's neck and face turned red as he screamed, and I feared for a moment that the medical team would be assisting him next.

  I pushed my way through the group of people until I reached the gurney. "Is she alright?" I asked to no one in particular.

  "No she's not alright you dick weed! You knocked her unconscious." An old guy with a head full of white hair yelled as he waved his cane at me. "You're lucky these people are holding me back!"

  There was not one single person restraining the old fart. I can't blame him for being upset with me, he's probably really worried about his daughter.

  A hand clamped down onto my shoulder and squeezed hard. "Lawrence, I don't know what in the hell you think you're doing, but we're trying to play a game right now. Get your ass moving!" Coach practically foamed at the mouth.

  "I have to make sure she's alright first, otherwise I'll be useless to the team. I have a damn conscious." I whispered harshly to him. I was aware I would feel the wrath of Coach Anthony after the game, but I’d rather get chewed out by him instead of my mother.

  Coach sighed heavily and wiped a hand over his face. He tapped our team physician on the shoulder. "Is she alright?"

  "Yeah, she's opening her eyes and responding to us. We'll take her to get checked out, but I think she'll be fine. Just a big bump between the eyes."

  Coach grabbed my arm and began to drag me towards the infield. "The girl's fine. Can we play ball now?" He handed over my bat and I took my spot back in the batter’s box.

  "You're a fucking idiot, man." Wright chuckled from behind me.

  Maybe I was, but I knew that checking on that girl was the right thing to do.

  The next ball was thrown, and I watched it pass on the outside.

  "BALL!" the ump called out.

  The next pitch was exactly how I liked it; fast, low and straight down the middle. I knew as soon as it connected with my bat that it was a homerun. I watched the ball fly higher and higher, landing in a section in the upper stands. I turned to the catcher as I started towards first. "Who's the fucking idiot?"

  ***

  We won the game 0-2, thanks to my two run homerun. I was immediately pulled into Coach's office when I walked into the locker room. He slammed the door shut, making the windows of his office rattle. Suddenly the bravery I felt earlier diminished and pure dread washed over me. He was going to bench me, or worse, send me back to the minors.

  "Don't pull that shit again, do you hear me? You're out there to play a game, not to be a god damn hero."

  "I know. Sorry." I mumbled. But inside I knew that I would do the same thing again without a second thought. I wouldn’t have been able to think straight until I knew that girl was okay.

  He took his hat off and threw it onto the desk. He rubbed his hands over his visually tired face. "Get the hell out of here."

  I was almost out of his office on my way to freedom when he called my name. I turned back, noticing a small smile on the corners of his lips. "Good work today, kid."

  I rounded the corner to the lockers and noticed Nathan Ross talking to a group of reporters. I opened my locker to grab my bag for a shower and heard someone yell “There he is!” Before I could comprehend what in the fuck was happening, the swarm of reporters lunged at me like I was their prey.

  “Carson! Was it for show?”

  Ryan Cruz, one of the starting pitchers and my team mentor, shoved his way through the group and held his hand up. "Whoa, one at a time. Take it easy on the kid, he’s not used to this. Of course it wasn’t for show, he’s a decent human being. Now, ask him about the damn game.”

  I shook his hand and he slapped me on the arm. “Good game, Lawrence. You’ve got this?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks man.”

  Ryan disappeared through the chaos, leaving me to answer the questions as they were thrown out. “How does it feel to be responsible for winning your debut major league game?” A guy I recognized from ESPN asked.

  "It was a team effort. Ross got on base. Cruz’s pitching was spot on. The guys in the field didn't let anything past them. We had a great game as a team." It was an honest answer. I play for a team, not for myself. It takes the effort of each individual person on our team to succeed, and everyone out there played their asses off today.

  I noticed Ross off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched me talk to the reporters. With a roll of his eyes he slammed his locker shut and walked towards the showers. He has been fairly quiet since joining the team in Florida for spring training, refusing to interact with any of the other players. From the looks of it, he doesn’t like to share the limelight, but honestly, he can have it. I’m not here to talk to reporters and smile pretty for the camera. I just want to play ball.

  "Carson, how are you adjusting to the east coast?" A woman shoved the recorder in my face.

  "I actually grew up outside of Baltimore. My family moved to New Mexico while I was in high school. It feels good to be back home. It's always been a dream of mine to play for the Bird's." I tossed my bag over my shoulder and closed my locker. "If you could excuse me, I'm in serious need of a shower. Have a goodnight everyone."

  "Wait!" A short red head pushed through the crowd, and when she finally came into view, it looked as if her tits were about to pop out of her blazer. "Sydney Phillips with The Baltimore Press.” She introduced herself. “Do you have a message for the young lady you hit today? You know, the one you hospitalized?" She accused.

  Hospitalized? I felt my stomach bottom out. "I thought she was okay?"

  Her thin lips pursed together. "Apparently not. The hospital currently has her listed in stable condition."

  I wiped the towel in my hand over my face. "No comment. Have a good night, everyone."

  Chapter Three: Melody

  "...and you should have seen the fear in his eyes. That boy was terrified of me." Clay reported the three full minutes that I was unconscious second by second.

  Seriously.

  "I can't believe Carson Lawrence actually walked over to check on me." I said in disbelief.

  Clay shifted in his chair, huffing in the process. "It's the least he could do."

  "That's enough!" I snapped, my patience for him today finally going dry. "For the love of God, it was an accident!"

  A knock came to the door, my best friend's dark hair and beautiful blue eyes peaking from behind
the door and saving Clay a complete ass chewing. "Hey, am I interrupting?" Lexi asked.

  Clay stood, a little unsteady on his feet. "Nah, she's good. I'm going to get out of here before Lexi starts hitting on all the doctors. Listen to the doctors and rest at home tomorrow. I'll see you Friday night at the stadium, but only if you’re feeling up to it."

  Lexi kissed him on the cheek when he passed her in the doorway. "Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her. Behave yourself Uncle Clay."

  He mumbled something, but I couldn't make it out through the continuous dull thump in my head. After several doses of pain medications, I still have a headache, but it's much more manageable. Although the CT scan of my head came back normal, the doctors decided to keep me overnight for observation just to play it safe.