The Pitcher's Act

2

COLBY JONES

This girl. This stupid fucking girl. I blame her for this. It's her fault. It's always somehow her fucking fault. She's such a pain in the ass. She is always screaming for attention, just like she's doing now, as she eyes me down in the auditorium before class.

Her hands are folded across her chest, raising her breasts, which I gladly look at since they are out. She would be attractive if she had a better attitude and personality.

I knew I'd regret taking theatre, but my best friend Jayden said it was the easiest class he'd ever taken. He only had to attend a play last semester, and now I got to fucking be in one. Music would have been the better option, but I've tried to learn to read a music sheet and shredded it in pieces.

We're being forced to sit together, courtesy of Professor Simon. Except, she won't sit down. She just keeps fucking staring at me. I'm trying not to let it bother me, but I think if she keeps staring, I might leave. I should have smoked a bowl before class, but woke up late.

I'm sure that's exactly what she wants me to do, so I pull out my computer and look at last night's Braves game stats. She scoffs, barreling down in the seat next to me, muttering something under her breath. I completely ignore her, acting as if she doesn't exist.

She hates it. She hates me. She's being a damn brat.

She slams my computer shut. "What the hell?" I growl, turning to look at her.

"You want to be Romeo or Juliet?" She asks, a smirk playing on her lips. Okay, so this is how she wants to play.

"I'll be Romeo. That way, I can poison myself instead of having to deal with you," I mock the grin on her lips, which disappears with every word that comes out of my mouth.

She rolls her eyes, slamming a script in my hands. This has to be a hundred pages long. "Fucking hell," I mutter under my breath as I flip the pages.

"Do you even know who these people are?" She asks, murder coming out of her lips.

I scoff, "Yes, Angel." She is far from an angel but may hit me if I call her the devil. Her eyes turn into slits at my nickname. "I know the play. I think we all do. I'm pretty sure we all had to read the book in high school." I didn't read a damn word of that book, but we watched the movie, and I learned enough. Forbidden love, and they die for each other.

My eyes scan the words on the script. How the hell am I going to memorize this? Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged. As I read the following line, I stand up, my chair scraping against the floor, "Oh, hell no." He kisses her. "Fuck that." There is no way in hell I am kissing Olivia Olsen. That would be a cold day in hell before I did that. And in front of an audience? Professor Simon has got it out for him.

"What?" She asks, startled and angered. She looked up at me with big blue eyes, and I immediately looked away—too much emotion.

I turn around, leaning against the desk. I run a hand through my hair, my hand getting caught in a curl. "You and I got to kiss, Olsen." I point between her and me, "And I'm pretty sure it's more than once."

Her face flushes, "Right." She's embarrassed. I almost smirked at what I thought she was thinking. She's ashamed to kiss me. I'd rather do anything but kiss this girl, but if that is all it takes to shut her ass up, so be it. "There's no need to practice that until show time."

I raise my eyebrows. Sure, Olivia. Don't freak out about it. "You seem rather chill about this." I cross my arms as she stares at me with a blank expression. It's the most relaxed or quiet I've seen her. Finally. Is that all it took?

"I think you freaked out enough for the both of us." She flips her blonde hair out of her face, "Plus, haven't you ever seen a play? They fake kiss all the time."

"Right. I'll add fake kissing to the resume."

She breathes heavily at my sarcasm, "Should we start going through this?" She flips through the pages of the script.

I bend down to grab my book bag, "Nah. I'm good. I've had enough for today, Olsen." I stuff my computer in my backpack, zip it up, and head out the doors, leaving my devil in disguise frozen and silent in her seat, just like I intended.

I head down to the athlete's dining hall, yes, only for the athletes, to grab something to eat. They sure do treat us like royalty here, and I fucking love it. They're especially nice when you're a starting pitcher for the baseball team. I'm surprised they didn't offer me a personal golf cart with my name on it to ride around campus. Probably not in the funds. Wake Forest is a smaller school. Not to be a cocky bastard, but I bring a lot of attention to the school, and it's not just because of the looks.

I had offers from almost every division one school in the nation, yet I ended up here for some reason. I blame my dad. He, too, was a pitcher here at Wake Forest. He seemed thrilled when I got an offer here, and it was even better when I saw the full ride they gave me.

I've basically helped this program go from nothing to everything. We ended up first in the Atlantic Coast Conference and came close to the national championship. We ended up in third place out of the entire country. I'll be sure to take down LSU this season.

"Jonesy," one of my teammates calls out for me while walking inside the dining hall. I recognize the voice of one of my roommates, Bryce Boswell.

I wave to him as I watch the worker make the same sandwich I eat daily. I'm surprised I haven't gotten sick of it, but I only come here a few days a week when driving home between classes is annoying. When I walk up, I feel like a regular customer, and he's already pulling it out of the oven from being toasted. He hands it to me, "Thanks, Greg."

I sit beside my roommate, who sits with a few other teammates. "What's good?" I say, taking a bite of my sandwich.

My fourth roommate, Michael Crawford, says, "A little birdie told me you're starring in a play this semester."

The other guys at the table were quiet as the words came out of his mouth. I set my sandwich down and groan, fucking Jayden. I'm going to kill him. "I'm about to drop the damn class. Not worth it."

"Birdie also said you got paired up with Olivia Olsen in a Romeo and Juliet duet," he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Bryce about chokes on his food as he hears the name. He knows what happened between the two of us. He was there. "Oh fuck, man. You're fucked."

"Crawford, you can shut the fuck up now," I growl. He knows about what happened, but he wasn't there to witness the massacre.

"Maybe this is a sign to forget and forgive," Bryce says, and I look at him dumbfounded.

I roll my eyes, "Maybe I'll forgive her when I hear a fucking apology come out of her mouth. That'll be hard for her."

"I wonder what else she does with her mouth," Crawford taunts.

"If you want her so damn bad, then go fuck her. Jesus," I grumble, picking up my sandwich and taking a large bite.

"So defensive," Bryce mumbles, looking at Crawford and smirking.

Just as if I hadn't already had enough, she comes blowing into the cafeteria with the same friend she's always with, Bella. Bella is so different from her. She is kind, unlike her best friend.

Olivia sits down, and we immediately connect our eyes, glaring at each other once again.