Playing Favorites

Although this story contains characters that are minors, all characters engaging in sexual activity are above the age of 18.

*****

The day that Khan left me was both the worst and best day of my life. Things hadn't been going well with us for quite some time, but we'd been together for almost eight years so I guess I was surprised that it ended as suddenly as it did.

Traffic was horrible that day so I was late getting home from work and my mind was racing, wondering what I was going to throw together for dinner. I knew he was going to be pissed because I was late and he was hungry - although I never understood why a 35-year-old man was incapable of fixing his own dinner. I suppose I'd enabled him. But instead of a lecture when I walked in the door, I got a different speech.

"Lindsay, I'm done," he'd said.

"What do you mean, you're done?" He was famous for being dramatic, so I wasn't really taking him too seriously as I dropped my handbag on the entry table.

"I'm tired of all of your moods, all of your crap, all your cats...I'm just fucking done!"

I had barely walked through the door and he pulls this shit? Today? When I was already frazzled? And then my eye caught the two suitcases sitting next to the wall and my brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

He shrugged, "Like I said, I'm done..."

I tamped down the panic that was rising within me, "This is kind of sudden, isn't it?"

"Not really - we've both been unhappy for a while now..."

I couldn't deny that.

"...so, I'm just going to go..."

Speechless, I could do nothing but move aside as he brushed past me on his way out the door and into the bright April sunshine. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I didn't try to reason with him. I just let him walk out.

Fifteen minutes later, his actions made a little more sense to me. I was halfway through my second glass of wine when my best friend Amber called.

"What the hell is going on Lindsay?" she demanded.

She couldn't know already... "What do you mean?"

"Check your Instagram. Lauren just posted a picture of her and Khan with some bull-shit comment like 'Together at last!'"

I was in shock. Lauren? The 'good friend' that I had let stay at our place for two months in the winter when her marriage went to hell?

Pulling up the app on my phone, I saw the photo Amber was talking about, and my jaw dropped. "No fucking way..." was all I could manage.

*****

At 27, I am the youngest woman at work. The rest of them span the decade from their late 30's to late 40's. I don't mind though. I've always felt more comfortable with people older than I am. Maybe that's why Khan and I had worked for such a long time.

It was a rough couple of weeks after he left, but my first day back to work, I knew I wasn't alone. As soon as she saw my face, my co-worker Eve had hustled me into a conference room and talked me through it. She was not a fan of my ex and never had been.

"You know, when I first heard that Khan was almost 10 years older than you, I figured he must be really hot or have lots of money. I mean how else could he have gotten a girl like you?"

I rolled my eyes and snorted. He was neither of those things, but I wasn't quite as special as Eve thought either.

"And then when I found out that you'd been together since you were 19, I felt sick. I mean, what the hell was he doing? You were barely more than a child!"

I could see why Eve might have that point of view - after all, she was a single mother of two teenage girls, but it wasn't like that - not really, and I found myself defending him. "I was mature for my age..."

"He took advantage of you when you were just a girl, Lindsay," she asserted. "And from everything you've said about him, he spent a good part of your time together manipulating situations so that he could control you..."

The more I thought about what she had to say, the more it made sense to me. I'd been a foolish girl, dazzled by pretty words and a flashy car. And once we were living together, my focus was on making Khan happy, first and foremost. Hence, my tongue piercing.

God, I was such an idiot!

*****

The tongue stud was the first thing to go, and the painfully uncomfortable 6" heels were the second. Before I knew it, I had a trash bag full of shit that I only had because of him. In some ways, cleaning my closet felt like I was cleansing my soul, and I felt so much better about things with a lot of the visual reminders gone.

I was determined not to get into another relationship for a good long while. I was wounded and felt like I needed some time to get my head together before I started dating again. I didn't realize how hard it was going to be though.

As soon as the news of Khan's and my breakup hit the airwaves, I was inundated. All kinds of guys came out of the woodwork now that I was "free". I toyed with the idea of just fucking someone to get back at Khan, but I realized he wouldn't even care, so who would be the loser there? Plus, in my experience, most guys are only in it for their own pleasure, so it was unlikely that I'd get much out of it physically either.

Trevor was the most persistent. He'd always been a great friend, and he was really there for me after Khan left - helping me move to a smaller apartment, helping me find my way around, helping, helping, helping... But underneath all the 'helping', I knew he wanted more.

The first time he kissed me in my kitchen, I pushed him gently away, "No...Trev...I - I'm not ready for anything..."

And he'd backed off. Only to circle the wagons and try another approach a week later. An approach that was a little more effective. Basically, he wore me down.

Eve shook her head when she found out I was seeing him. "Lindsay, what are you doing? It's only been a month since you broke up with Khan. What happened to getting your shit together?"

"Being alone is hard," I confessed. "And Trevor's a decent guy..."

Her voice gentled, "Just be careful, okay? Protect yourself a little. Don't sleep with him until you're sure you want a relationship with him."

I must have looked guilty.

"Oh no..." Eve looked pained, "You didn't..."

Much as I love the woman, Eve is pushing 40 and really doesn't understand what it is to be young and single in this century. People do not wait. They seize the moment. If you date, you expect sex. It's part of the deal.

But Trevor didn't last long. He was a nice guy, a cute face, someone to be with because I was lonely, but he was not someone I could see myself growing old with. Not that I was even thinking long term. I was just trying to survive the here and now.

*****

Summer gave way to fall and I allowed Eve to persuade me to join her softball team. I needed an "activity", she said. Something besides going out drinking with Amber. I tended to agree, but I wasn't sure softball was quite the outlet I needed.

When I was in middle-school, my step-father du jour had thought I needed to play a sport, so I joined a fast-pitch softball team for a few years. But when the marriage went south, as my mom's always seemed to do, sports fell by the wayside. And thirteen years is a long break to take from anything. On the plus side, I was in shape, so even if my hitting wasn't the best, I could sometimes still make it to first...

The team welcomed me with open arms, and for once I didn't feel like all the guys were on the make. Granted, most of them were over thirty and married, but still - it felt like a safe place for me.

Honestly, I was not used to guys treating me like a regular person. Ever since I was 14, I've had more male attention than I knew what to do with. In a way, it's empowering - knowing that you can get what you want because of the way you look. In another way, it's a trap - never knowing if someone wants to be with you for who you are instead of how good you look on his arm.

Of course, on the ball field, I wasn't exactly looking my best - and that seemed to be okay with everyone. There is no way ANY woman looks good after playing softball for an hour in the hot Texas sun. They might call it the "Fall season" because it starts in September, but 98° is still 98°.

Eve had been playing in the city league for several years, so she knew many of the people out at the park. She had recently started dating one of our team's outfielders, Joe, and between the two of them, they made sure I was taken care of. Over drinks after the second game, I got to know Tamra, our catcher, who confessed to a long-standing crush on the shortstop, Martin. From what I could tell, he was an even-tempered person, somewhere in his early 30's with excellent biceps. Apparently just her type...sigh...if only she wasn't married... It's nice to have a little fantasy. I know. It's how I got through my last three years with Khan.

Ah, Khan... I still thought about him occasionally, although my anger had faded to disgust. How had I let him manipulate me all those years? Had my self-esteem been so low that I didn't realize how much better I deserved to be treated?

*****

It was a busy time of year at work. A lot of tradeshows were packed into the time between Labor Day and Thanksgiving, so I was working a lot, which made my lonely state easier to deal with. Friday night softball became the highlight of my week. Is that sad or what? How much does my social life suck if playing softball ranks number one?

Eve would emphatically state that there was nothing wrong with that at all. But with all due respect, she wouldn't know loneliness if it bit her in the ass. In fact, she complained about never having any alone time - between the boyfriend and the two kids, she was constantly around someone.

Not that I want to give up my independence. I like living alone, with my cats and my snake, and after a day of craziness at the office, the silence is wonderful. It's the weekends that get me. All day Saturday and all day Sunday... My apartment is small - I can only clean it so many times!

I guess that's why when Eve asked me to play a Saturday ball tournament in early November, I agreed. I knew they had to be desperate - I mean, I had improved some since the beginning of the season, but I was far from good.

It wasn't our usual team, but a conglomeration of some of the "better" players I'd seen around on Friday nights in Carrollton. We were playing in Euless, where (apparently) ball playing was serious business. Or perhaps it was just that tournaments were serious business.

Martin was our manager for the day, and that was fun. He knew exactly what I could do and what I couldn't, and he was always there with an encouraging word, even if I missed a ball or struck out. I didn't know what he did for a living, but I thought he'd make a great mentor for kids - maybe a teacher, or coach, or something.

When I said as much to Eve during one of our breaks between games, she raised an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't Google him?"

"No...why, am I right?" I was never right about these things.

"Uh, yes. He's a teacher. Science, I think..."

"Wow..." Now why did that make me think of him differently? "I could not do that..."

Eve nodded in agreement, "Me either. I've spent enough time around school aged kids that you couldn't possibly pay me enough to do that job..."

Yeah, no kidding...

Our team did surprisingly well at the tournament, despite not having played together as a unit before. A testament to everyone else's skill - and maybe a bit of luck. Whatever it was, by the time 9pm rolled around, we found ourselves playing in the championship game.

It had been a grueling day, not that I'd played very much. I sat out most of that last game too, and rightly so. I was the weakest team member and since we had an extra girl, there was no need to play me. Even so, it was thrilling to watch my teammates do so well - and even more thrilling when I got up to bat that I made a solid connection that sent the ball out of the infield, enabling me to make it to first.

Eve was base-coaching and warned me that with Martin up to bat next, I would have to be ready to run, and run fast. And boy was she right! Martin smacked the ball so hard it hit the fence at center field and, by the time I rounded third, he was only steps behind me. Man, could he move! I could hear him muttering, "Faster Linds..." breathlessly behind me.

We made it! I scored! I did something right! Martin slung an arm over my shoulder as we moved towards the dugout to receive congratulations from our team, "Nice job!" he grinned. "Way to hustle!"

And when I glanced up briefly into his eyes, filled with love for the game and the exhilaration of the moment, I understood Tamra's attraction. He wasn't just a nice-guy science teacher, but sex personified. All that masculine exertion, combined with a healthy dose of pheromones racing around and I was toast.

*****

It was a valiant effort, but our team did not win the tournament. Everyone seemed pretty pleased with second place, however, considering that several of us were not playing their usual positions.

Eve was exhausted. She'd done a lot of running around the bases in the five games we'd played. And out in left-field, she didn't get to slow down much either. In fact, watching her, I'd felt positively lazy.

When someone suggested going out for drinks, Eve turned to me apologetically and said, "I've gotta go home - I'm beat."

I must have looked disappointed because she called out, "Hey Martin!" and beckoned him over.

"You coming out with us, ladies?"

She shook her head, "Not me - but I would count it as a personal favor if you would take Miss Lindsay here and buy her a drink." Then to me, she smiled, "You did a great job today..."

I rolled my eyes and shrugged, even while Martin chimed in, "Yeah, you did. You are our new secret weapon..."

I laughed out loud at that, and seeing the twinkle in his eye, whacked his shoulder, "You're so mean!"

"Ow! No, I'm dead serious!" He glanced pleadingly at Eve. "Tell her..."

But Eve just shrugged, "I'm going home... you're on your own with this one..."

Martin shook his head, "All right then, Linds - let me buy you a drink, and I'll explain..."

Fifteen minutes later, a Shiner Bock in my hand, I had almost forgotten about his obviously sarcastic comment regarding my playing ability. Not that I blamed him for thinking it, but did he really have to say it out loud?

Along with five other teammates, Martin and I were crammed into a booth at a local watering hole, and spirits were high. After the requisite rehashing of the tournament, talk turned to football season, and I wanted to kill myself. Or at least I wanted to be sitting next to the only other woman in our group - who was inconveniently seated furthest away from me. I was sure I could find something to talk about with her...

Martin must have noticed my eyes crossing with boredom because he interrupted the conversation to ask, "Who needs another?" Once everyone chimed in with their orders, he said, "Will you give me a hand Linds?"

And as we made our way to the bar, I felt the slightest touch of his hand at the small of my back - not so much guiding me as creating a connection. Or maybe the connection was my imagination - wishful thinking. Waiting for the drink order to be filled, I leaned against the bar and said, "So...I think you were going to explain something to me? About how I was the 'secret weapon' today?"

I could see a flush creep up his neck, "Right...I said I was going to do that, didn't I?" He met my eyes and looked sheepish, "See, now I'm just afraid you're going to take what I have to say the wrong way..."

Raising an eyebrow, I pressed, "Try me..."

He exhaled and, after a moment's hesitation, went for it. "Well, there were two things, really. I mean, you don't have a lot of softball experience, but you can haul ass! I doubt there was one other woman out here today who could run as fast as you."

I wasn't expecting a sincere compliment, and it stopped me for a second. "I-uh, well, I ran track in high school, but that was a long time ago."

"But you still work out - that's obvious..." he stated matter-of-factly.

He wasn't hitting on me - I was sure of that - which somehow made me crave his praise even more. "Yeah, a bit..."

"Which brings me to the second thing..." A mischievous grin quirked up one side of his mouth, and I knew the other shoe was about to drop. "With your short little shorts and killer legs, you were a major distraction to the guys on the other teams today..."

"What?" My stomach dropped, and I looked down at the nylon running shorts I'd worn all day, choosing to skip over the 'killer legs' comment. "These shorts? They're not that short!"

Martin shrugged, "Most people who play ball wear pants, or shorts that come to the knee, so if they slide they won't rip their legs up. So, it's not that your shorts are indecent or anything, they're just shorter than we're used to seeing out at the ballpark..."

I knew my face was flaming - but why did I even care that I made a softball fashion faux-pas? It was freaking softball - the least fashion-forward of all the sports I'd encountered over the years...

"But don't get me wrong, Linds. I am infinitely grateful that you wear these kinds of shorts when you come to play softball," he finished with a teasing smile.

That earned him a slug in the shoulder, but he caught my hand before I could wind up for a second hit, looping my arm through his as he turned me towards the bar, "C'mon hon... Seriously, I didn't mean to make you mad. You are genetically blessed, and we used that to our advantage today... I can't pretend I'm not happy about that."

I couldn't speak just then. That simple thing - our arms linked together, our shoulders touching - caused such an ache in my throat. It wasn't sexual, but it was real somehow, and I longed for that sort of affectionate bond. Even with Khan, it had been missing for quite some time...

Our drinks were up, and Martin paid while I headed back to our table with my hands full. A few minutes later, when he slid beside me into the booth, he leaned his head towards me and murmured, "We cool Linds?"

Cool was not exactly what I was feeling, given our close proximity, but I could hardly tell him that. "Yeah..."

*****

I started no fewer than eight texts to Martin on Sunday. All were deleted before I got the nerve to send them. Sure, he'd given me his number, but that was not so I could send him flirty texts. No. It was for official softball use only - or something like that.

He'd sent me on my way the previous night after conscientiously checking my sobriety level. I was fine to drive, but the consumption of alcohol does tend to make me a little more likely to throw myself into the arms of the nearest cute guy, so he barely escaped unscathed.

And now, I was intermittently acting like a teenager and being disgusted with myself for acting that way. For God's sake! He hadn't expressed any interest in me as a woman, so why was I obsessing over him? Oh yeah - because he hadn't expressed any interest in me.

Eve was moving a little slower than usual on Monday. "I am too old for this..." she groaned. "Remind me that tournaments are for the young if I ever say I want to play one again!"

I smiled, "But you're so good Eve!"

She skewered me with the evil eye, "Ha! Even if you were right, is the suffering worth it?" And then, changing the subject, she asked if I'd had fun.

"Yeah," I nodded. I wanted to bring up Martin. Wanted to ask her to spill everything she knew about him, but refrained. If he could play it cool, so could I.

I debated about whether or not to buy a pair of baseball pants. The weather was getting cooler, so it wasn't as though it would be obvious that I was changing my wardrobe because of what Martin had said. Another perverse part of me wanted to find the tiniest pair of shorts I owned and wear them to Friday's game. After all, he had been complimentary about my legs - but at the same time, I had the feeling he was making fun of me...just a tiny bit.