The Problem with Players (Problem #2)

by Brittainy C. Cherry

May you find your sunbeams.

The best types of human beings were the ones who shut up. Or at least the ones who didn’t try to talk to me.

“Go to hell, Nathaniel,” I spat. “Or at least do me the smallest favor and stay out of my way.”

“I hate, hate, hate him!”

He could cut me from the team without a second thought. He also told me I was being childish, so I told him to suck a cock.”

Okay. Good. Because if I’m going to be delusional with my anger, I need you to be on the same page.”

And even if she was cold, the world probably made her that way. People’s hearts didn’t harden by choice. They hardened due to traumatic inflictions of pain caused by others.

“So you’re telling me that you’re the same person you were when you were eighteen?” “No,” she disagreed. “I’m a lot harder and a lot more distrusting. That’s what life does to people. It makes them cynics.”

“For what? Getting me locked out here or taking my job? Either way, I don’t forgive you.”

In three short weeks, I’d be saying “I do” to someone who loved me. Someone who chose me even though I never felt good enough.

“You are a pain in my ass, Nathaniel, and I cannot stand you.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “But if we are forced to work together, we have to have some ground rules.” “I’m more of a rule breaker.”

“Rule number one,” she scolded. “You’ll respect my decisions around the boys. If you disagree, you discuss it with me in private.”

“I would answer that, but that’s breaking rule number three, and we will not break these rules.”

needed him to shut up. I loathed that man. I hated how he smiled, how he spoke, how he smelled like oak trees soaked in lemon drops. I hated how he chewed gum. How he clapped his hands. How he wore a backward baseball hat. I hated his breathing pattern, and his eyes, and his stupid dimples. How he cleared his throat. How he snickered. How he patted me on the back whenever I made a good call. Don’t touch me, Nathaniel! I hated everything about that man.

“Just admit it…I’m growing on you.” “Like an annoying wart I want surgically removed.

“I would say hopefully good things, but if they came from Avery, probably not.”

“You want me to keep Drew licking your fucking cone to myself, too?” I bit. His face flushed a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not what it looks like. She’s just⁠—” “Better get those oxtails home, Wesley.” “Come on, man. Don’t be like that. From one guy to another, you know how Avery can be. If she found out, she’d make it something it’s not. She’s a bit of a drama queen with a temper regarding this friendship between Drew and me.”

“Say one more bad thing about Avery, and I’ll slam your fucking face into this glass display.”

“Are you crying?” “Only a little.” “Why?” “Because sometimes love feels so big in my chest that it leaks from my eyes.”

“Whatever. The rocket scientist is nice and all, but you…you’re the shooting star. Don’t forget that, will you?”

“You know I have a kink for people who treat me like shit and talk down to me.”

“You’re a dumbass,” she muttered. “If you want me to get a hard-on, just say that, Coach,”

“You don’t have to pretend to be strong today.”

“That’s how you ended up with food poisoning way back when.” “I still think it was a twelve-hour flu.” “That’s because you’re hardheaded.” “You always did know me best.”

Even seeing that single tear move down her cheek was a big sign of her hurting. One teardrop from Avery Kingsley was like a million tears from the average crier.

Losing Avery Kingsley would be one of the greatest regrets of my life. If I could turn back time, it would’ve worked out differently. If I could turn back time, I would’ve never played another game of baseball if it meant I had her.

“Thank you.” “Anytime.” “Hopefully, I won’t need you to unlace me from a wedding dress again.” One can hope, Avery. One can only hope.

When I was a kid, Betty Stevens read my tarot card on the playground. She told me all men would choose their careers over loving me. I figured when you ditched me for baseball, it was just a coincidence, but then having Wesley leave for the same reason made it clear as day. I’m cursed to be second-string in men’s lives.”

“Two strikes down?” “Well, Wesley was leaving me for a job opportunity. You did the same thing. One more strike and I’m out.”

“Go where you’re loved, baby girl, and never stay a second longer when the love is removed.”

“Her mobile home?” “Yup.” “You’d rather stay on a school bus than with your devilishly handsome assistant coach?” he joked. “Oh, I’d rather stay in a portapotty than with you.”

“Dang it, Nathaniel. You’re making it harder for me to hate you.”

Over the years, my father had never called Wesley by the right name. It was a running joke that Daddy never learned the names of my sisters’ and my partners until he liked them.

asking for help doesn’t make you weak. Sometimes asking for help is the strongest thing a person could ever do.”

“You like that, huh?”

“Clearly, seeing as I’m eating it.” I took another bite.

“I knew you’d like my sausage.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not uncommon for me to cause women to choke from time to time.”

“Why are you such a moron?” “I was born this way.”

“Knock, knock.” “Who’s there?” “Your future husband.”

“You’re not my type, Nathaniel,”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you annoy me too much.” “That sounds like a compliment.” “That’s only because your peanut brain doesn’t know how to ...

around?” “Since when do you care about my feelings?” “Since I decided that I don’t hate you as much anymore.” I arched an eyebrow. “No full-core hatred?” “Trust me, I’m as shocked as you are,” she stated. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s still hate.

“Did we just become best friends?” I asked, quoting the movie Step Brothers. She laughed. “No. Absolutely not. We aren’t even friends. We are just two people who come to the field once a week to vent, to talk, and to feel better with one another.” “That’s it?” “That’s all.” “Okay. I can get behind this secret society of two. Is this our first official meeting?” She held the bat out toward me. “It is.”

“What can I say? I don’t make the rules.” “That’s funny because it feels as if you do, indeed, make the rules.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing…I didn’t. Wesley and I had a very scholarly relationship. When he asked me out, he used a pie chart and told me the statistics of a woman like me being paired with a man like him. When he proposed, he asked me with three different rings because he knew I liked to be in control of the outcome. At least, that’s what I told myself. Looking back, I think it’s just because he didn’t know me well enough to know what I’d want.”

baseball. I promise you. If you allow yourself to be a complete fool, you also allow yourself to achieve greatness.”

Sure, maybe there would be coaches who called me a dumbass, but none would do it as insultingly as she did. There was something so sweet about hearing Avery Kingsley call me a dumbass. It held a certain level of prestige to it.

“What was that?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Cameron. “Footloose,” he replied. “Always helped me get out of my head and more into my heart.”