THE first season of AA ball sucked. When Jake was drafted after his junior year, he thought he’d light up the minors and be called up to the show in no time. Instead, he found the change from aluminum to wooden bats killed his batting average, and the long season as well as night games played havoc with his stamina. The packed schedule left little room to rest up for the next game.
He also hated not seeing Mikko for weeks at a time. He’d gotten used to seeing him almost every day and waking up with him a few times a week. In this new world, he was lucky to phone Mikko once a week. Mikko said he understood, and they more than made up for it when Jake could make quick trips back to Atlanta.
During the long stretches between visits, there were two things guaranteed to keep him occupied: alcohol and baseball groupies. He drank to forget how lonely he was, and he fucked all the groupies because… well, because they let him. They were just like the girls in college. They had no expectations. They just wanted to see how many players they could hook up with. It increased the chances of them one day saying, “Yeah, I fucked the MVP when he was in AA.”
Every once in a while, Jake had the opportunity to have sex with another man. Jake wouldn’t fuck them or let them fuck him. He would exchange hand jobs or blow jobs, just like he did in high school. He would close his eyes and thrust into some stranger’s mouth and imagine it was Mikko at his feet.
After a particularly brutal road trip, Jake was looking forward to a few days off and a chance to see Mikko. It had been too long since they’d touched, and he was dying for it. He was shocked to unlock Mikko’s door and find most of the apartment packed into boxes. He called Mikko’s name, and Mikko came down the hall carrying a box.
Jake walked around the living room and kitchen. Everything was gone. “What the hell is going on here?”
Mikko dropped the box next to the front door. It was labeled “Jake.” “What does it look like? I’m moving.”
“What? Where? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mikko sat on the far end of the couch. “Why would I tell you? I haven’t heard from you in more than a month.”
Jake knew from Mikko’s body language not to approach him, so he sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve had a rough schedule. I didn’t have a lot of time.”
“You had enough time to fuck… what’s her name? Oh yes, Lindsey. She and I had the most interesting conversation when I called.”
Jake froze. He didn’t remember a Lindsey, but then again, he didn’t remember the names of most of his hookups. He certainly didn’t remember one talking to Mikko. He wouldn’t have allowed it unless he was—
“I must have been drunk. I don’t remember any Lindsey, and I certainly don’t know her well enough for her to tell you anything.”
“Oh, but she knew you.” Mikko’s voice was sad instead of angry. “You’re the new player who likes to party and fuck whatever moves. She said her friend had been with you and told her to make sure to try you out. That most of the girls had.”
Jake winced. It hurt to know he’d been talked about behind his back. “Look, Mikko—”
“What are we?”
“Huh?”
“I’ve never asked you for monogamy, and God knows you’ve never offered it. I don’t expect it. But I do expect some kind of acknowledgment that I’m more than those girls and any other man you’ve fucked on the road.”
“I don’t fuck other guys,” Jake said with a growl.
“Fine, you don’t fuck other guys.” Mikko didn’t sound convinced. “So what are we?”
“We’re friends,” Jake whispered.
“Friends. With benefits?”
Jake stared down at his feet.
“Fuck buddies? Isn’t that what Americans call it? A friend you can fuck whenever you feel like it?”
“What do you want from me?” Jake cried. “Do you want me to come out? ’Cause I can’t do that, and you know it!”
Mikko slid across the couch and grabbed Jake’s hand. “I know, and I’m not asking you to. But I need us to be something more than this. I need to be someone more than just a guy you let fuck you when you’re home from the road.”
“You are.”
“Then tell me what I am,” Mikko begged.
Jake knew what Mikko wanted. He wanted to be the boyfriend. He wanted a formal name for the feelings they had for each other. But Jake couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.
Mikko pulled away. “You can’t say it, can you? It’s such a simple goddamned word, and you can’t say it.” He walked to the door and opened it. “I need you to leave.”
“Mikko, don’t.”
“Now,” Mikko commanded.
There was nothing else to be done tonight. Jake would try again in the morning, when Mikko had had time to cool off.
As Jake walked through the door, Mikko stopped him.
“Don’t forget your box.”
With those words, Jake knew no cooling-off period would make this better. Mikko was done with him.
The box sat in the backseat of Jake’s rental car outside the first bar Jake could find. He drank until he felt no pain and went home with the first girl who offered. He woke up the next morning lying naked in bed, a little boy staring down at him. He didn’t know how he got there, and he wasn’t even sure if he’d used protection. He certainly didn’t remember the girl’s name or her mentioning having a kid at home.
As soon as he got dressed, he snuck out and headed straight to Waynesboro. At his parents’ house, he had a long shower and a good meal. And he had time to think about how he wanted to live his life. Maybe if he stopped drinking so much and whoring around, he could get Mikko to give him another chance after the season was over.
Three months later, he met Marcy.