Rounding Third by Michelle Lynn Page A

minutes.” He saunters through the bathroom door, shutting it behind him, and turns on the shower.

    * * *
    A half hour later , I’m walking next to Oliver on the way to Kappa. Brax is in front of us with Tyler, who I recently found out is referred to as Saucey, each with beers in their hands.
    When I was in the shower, Brax’s advice made sense, but now, this seems like a terrible idea. Then again, she hasn’t run back into my arms yet, like I hoped she would. After she kissed Noah when we were fifteen, I asked out Gianna. She was at my locker during the next break between classes, flirting her way into a date on Friday night.
    I guess we’ll see if jealousy is still Ella’s kryptonite.
    We follow the line of people to the door.
    Those big red Greek letters nailed to the front of the house makes me wish I had a carton of eggs. How did Ella end up with a frat guy? If anyone, I assumed I’d have had competition with an athlete—no one near my caliber, but definitely a guy who would appreciate her qualities of looking like a knockout in a dress and sexy in cutoff shorts and a tank top.
    Immediately, a slew of girls bombard us when we enter. Oliver cozies up to the first redhead he finds while Saucey’s eyes search.
    Brax claps me on the back. “This, my ladies, is Crosby Lynch, third base.” He winks over and disappears into the crowd.
    A round of oohs and aahs float around our little circle while each girl nudges to get closest to me. I smile down to them, uncomfortable with this whole act.
    “Who wants a drink?” I ask.
    They all giggle with resounding yeses.
    One brunette grabs my hand, leading me into the kitchen, while her ass swings back and forth, slow and steady, like a pendulum. She checks back every three steps to make sure I’m looking.
    The kitchen is overflowing with people. Guys are circled around a girl sprawled out on the counter, doing tequila shots off of her. A ring of people is waiting next to the keg to fill their red Solo cups with beer. A group of guys, jazzed up in their conversation, hold tumblers with liquor bottles lined in front of them.
    “What do you want?” The brunette squeezes a girl out of the way to rub along my shoulder.
    “I’ll get it.” Another girl hands me a beer.
    Fuck if I’m going to drink it. I might be a guy, but I get my own drinks. I hold it in my hand, flashing her a smile as a thank-you.
    Each girl asks me questions about baseball, pretending like they give a shit about my position. All they care about is how fast they can get me upstairs or in a bathroom for bragging rights on who screwed the new third baseman. I’ve been here and done this in my dark days at junior college.
    I’m about to cut this whole stupid idea of Brax’s short when Ella enters through the doorway. She’s with Jen, and her dickhead boyfriend, Liam, is plastered to her side. She doesn’t see me, so I take the opportunity to find out who the new Ella is.
    Jen moves over to the tequila shots, happily taking one off the girl’s stomach. Ella laughs, but when Jen actually takes the lime from the girl’s mouth, she shakes her head. One thing I’ve figured out is Jen screams for attention however she can claim it.
    Ella’s boyfriend moves to the high-class group with their straight scotch and whiskey. Grabbing a glass of dark amber, he downs it back like a shot, and one of his friends in a polo shirt pours another one. His eyes ping everywhere but on his girlfriend. Fuckhead.
    Hell, I never left Ella alone at a party unless she was with Noah or Brax.
    From the corner of her eyes, Ella glances to him every few minutes and then rolls her eyes. I sense some dissention between them already.
    I desperately want to break through this wall of girls. I’ve been nodding to whatever they’ve been saying since Ella came in view, and they haven’t stopped talking for a breath. My feet are itching to move, my one free hand fists from wanting to touch her, but I can’t. Brax was right. I’ll