Felix (The Ninth Inning #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

returns to sitting the right way, and we’re relatively quiet for the rest of the plane ride. It’s not until warm-ups that Blake seems to be in a good mood again. Or at least as good of a mood as he can be. Focusing on the upcoming game, I take a deep breath.
    The usual pre-game nerves bounce off the walls of my stomach. I always thought it would go away, being anxious before a game, but it never has. I’m almost thankful for it because it keeps me on my toes. Before I know it, the national anthem is being sung and a ball game has started.
    I’ve always loved the sport. My mom used to say I was obsessed. Somewhere along the way, I lost it. When I got the sport back, I became obsessed again. I cherished the game and the opportunity to play. That’s what fuels me every time I step onto the mound to do my best and sort of give my life to baseball.
    My mind has a one-track mind to the sport. It’s all about how I throw the ball. The way it feels when I bring my arm back and then fling it forward. My favorite sound in the world is a ball smacking into the catcher’s glove and the following, “Strike!”
    Unfortunately, the bases are loaded and I’ve recorded two balls with this batter. I need one more out desperately or there’s a very good chance we lose this game. I inhale the heady clay aroma, briefly close my eyes, and picture Abigail. Maybe she can help from afar. A picture of her flashes in my mind. Brown hair up in messy bun, shorts, and a tank top that showcases a body I wouldn’t mind putting my hands on.
    Blake gives me his signal after my eyes open. I adjust my hat, take another deep breath, and pitch the ball.
    “Strike!”
    Thank you, Abigail.
    This time, I quickly picture her wearing her Angels t-shirt, sitting in the stands next to her sister. She watches me a lot. I know it’s because I’m playing in the game she’s watching, but her eyes are on me more than anyone else. Blake gives me the same signal. I pitch and hear, “Strike!”
    Repressing a smile, I picture Abigail one more time, of how she looked when I first met her. My last throw is a strike. There’s no doubt in my mind, that woman is my good luck charm. I can’t say so for the rest of the team, though. We lose the game.
    If I have a crutch, it’s that I hate losing and the days after a loss equate to me being caught up in focusing on baseball one hundred percent. I know losing comes with the territory. I mean, there’s a fifty-fifty chance with every game that we’ll come out on the losing end. Still, a loss makes me analyze my game and try to correct my mistakes. Or at least, work on improving myself.
    It’s no surprise I spend Saturday engaged in that loss ritual. Then, I head to the batting cage for an hour before pitching for a while. After that, I hit the gym. I run five miles, and lastly, I head to my favorite masseuse for a massage to help my muscles after such a long day. When I finally make it home, I’m starving.
    There’s plenty of food in the fridge; none of it looks appetizing. Salad, leftovers, thawed chicken that’s ready to be cooked. Maybe I should allow myself the guilty pleasure of eating out tonight. With that thought, I grab my keys and head to my favorite fast food restaurant with the plan to bring it back to my apartment and watch whatever’s on the History channel.

 
     
    I SLAM THE plate into the sink and for a second, I think I may have broken it. I didn’t, but I’m so pissed off. I waited and waited and waited for Felix to show up for the stupid date he made sure I went on with him and the ass didn’t even show up! The sad fact is I saw his car in the lot and I know he’s been home.
    All right, I know it sounds like I was being a stalker and I know I should just text him...wait...no, I shouldn’t. He wants this stupid deal, then he should have remembered.
    I check my phone for the thousandth time and there’s nothing from him. Only from Annie saying that she’ll be here in ten minutes for us