Chapter 3: Jayce

My mind was still reeling with thoughts of Macey as I climbed the stairs inside the campus hall to make my way to my apartment for sleep. I lived in the Rendezvous Building, an ERU lecture hall slash cafeteria slash housing unit. All the athletes got their own apartments on campus, as close as possible to the classrooms and food so that all we had to do to get to class was roll out of bed and walk downstairs. It was convenient, cozy, and much easier than driving from off-campus daily.

The apartment I had to myself was quiet and empty. It would have made a nice bachelor pad of sorts if I ever actually had the time to hang out and make it my own. I guess the perks of being a student-athlete were only perks if you could enjoy them, but that was the catch; there was no time to enjoy it. There was only time to study, train, and work.

Over and over again.

I dropped my baseball bag by the door and kicked my shoes off, tossed them aside, and locked the front door behind me. Going to the kitchen for a water bottle, I yanked open my refrigerator, exposing a near-empty icebox of, well, not much of anything at all. A few water bottles and a single near-empty pizza box were all that was there. Shaking my head, I grabbed a water and the pizza and took the last single slice from the box, savoring the stale junk food the best I could. I made a mental note to go grocery shopping over the weekend, regardless of knowing that deep down, I wouldn’t be doing anything that even resembled shopping if I could avoid it.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to check for missed calls, noticing that my mom had left a message. As I ambled into my bedroom to change, I dialed my mom and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello, my son,” Mom said on the other end of the line. She sounded good, happy to hear from me.

“Hey, ma. Are you working?”

“Yes. Working the night shift, but it’s slow. How has school been?”

“Fine.” I sat down on the edge of my bed and peeled my shirt off, tossing it in the general direction of the dirty laundry basket. “Practice is good. Coach thinks we’re going to have a good season.”

“How’s your schoolwork?”

“I had to get a tutor, so I don’t fail English.” Despite how much I wanted to tell my mom about Macey, now wasn’t the time. We’d only just met, and why should I? I didn’t make it a habit to tell my mother about every friend I made.

“I had to have a tutor in high school,” Mom said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Your strengths are elsewhere.”

“Thanks, ma. I just got home, so I need to shower and get into bed, but I’ll come to see you this week.”

“I love you, J.”

“Love you, too.” Tossing my phone aside, I stripped the rest of the way naked, still thinking of Macey, the only woman I’d ever met in my life who had somehow been able to intrigue me from the very moment I had laid eyes on her.

That was weird. That never happened. In fact, I hadn’t been this interested in a girl since middle school, when I thought I was in love with Katie James, who was in love with the neighborhood bully, Micah. After that heartbreak, my focus turned to baseball. It stayed there until I became good, then great until ERU sent me an invitation to attend their prestigious university and take their baseball team to the top. My focus stayed there after that-parties, late nights, challenging classes, and friends…

And then, tonight, my focus had shifted. I didn't think about baseball for the first time in a long time. Not even a little bit, not even for a second. I thought about Macey. Only Macey.

“Get a grip, dude,” I muttered aloud, cranking on the shower's hot water as my prick began to stiffen, yearning for the woman I’d only just met. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water pour over my body as thoughts of Macey intruded my mind, seeping into every pore of my body like a drug I’d just been introduced to, chasing the high of this new, dangerous thing.

I wanted her.

No, I needed her.

But why? Why her, and why now?

What in the hell was so special about Macey Britton?