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“Lace,” Harding’s catcher, Evka, muttered, tugging at her sleeve. “You think someone who just pitched a perfect game in a championship match would be a little more excited.”
Harding and Evka stood shoulder to shoulder against the team’s common room wall, barely enough space for all the players, team staff, and their friends to mingle comfortably. Didn’t seem to matter much to the celebrating mass. Once the beer had been brought in, the atmosphere had loosened up and was now lively.
Coach Pentaghast had made sure to keep it light.
Harding hadn’t been focusing on anything in particular. Her drink wasn’t the type to give her the kind of courage she was seeking. Watered-down electrolytes that somehow tasted like blue. The party was fun! Her damp jersey had been scribbled on with sharpie by the other teammates, sweet sentiments, playing insults, and more than a few crude drawings. When her teammates had gotten bored of that, Harding was promptly encouraged to jump into the school fountain. The team moved to the common space after that— across the hall from their locker room, indulging in a few drinks before they would all transition to Evka’s house off campus for further unsupervised celebration.
“Oh, I am! I’m just…letting it soak in. The win I mean,” Harding joked, squeezing the game ball in her hands a little tighter.
“Right. Yeah. I don’t buy it.” Evka took a short sip from her red plastic cup. “We’ve been playing together for years, Lace. I can tell what you had for breakfast just by the look in your eyes.” Evka chuckled when Harding started to fidget.
“It was the yam—”
“Yam and jam, yeah yeah.” Evka interjected, finishing Harding’s sentence. “This has nothing to do with yams and everything to do with the ball in your hands, doesn’t it?”
Crap! Had she figured it out? Harding looked to the ball, covering the writing with her thumb, and quickly glanced at the wall opposite to hers. Bellara was talking with Antoine— Evka’s sweetheart for the entire run of high school and university— and Taash.
-o-
When Bellara mentioned she was bringing her new roommate Taash, to Harding’s softball practice, Harding hadn’t expected them to be…well, enough to distract her so effortlessly.
Her eyes drifted over the way the Taash’s biceps bulged when practicing a swing. How could Taash be only wearing a tank top when it was this chilly outside? Taash raised the bat above their head and it was impossible for Harding to miss their toned midsection. Harding’s gaze finally settled on the way Taash’s calf muscles flexed when stepping up to the batter’s plate. Shorts? How hot did they run? Very hot, obviously.
Bellara had only casually mentioned Taash “should try and hitting one of Lace’s pitches— she’s really good!”
Harding didn’t expect them to actually take Bellara up on it. It was a joke, but Taash seemed to take offense. As if suddenly wanting to prove something to someone.
Harding didn’t usually like to show off, but something outside of her control made her say, “Sure!” Coach Pentaghast waved dismissively at her, a sign that now that practice was over, she had permission to play around for a bit with the newcomer.
Harding was hypnotized. She had seen plenty of capable athletes before — what was it about this one that made sweat start to pool in her glove?
Something felt a little off when the ball had left her fingertips. Her pitches packed a punch. You didn’t nor couldn’t hit one of her fastballs unless you were confident.
That’s why it was so shocking that when Taash pivoted their foot, twisted their hips, and dug the tip of the softball bat to the ball, it sailed far past her and anyone else on the field. They had hit it like it was nothing.
Bellara gave celebratory applause.
“That felt nice.” Taash grinned smugly in Harding’s direction as they casually tossed the bat off to the side. “You should pitch to me more often.”
Harding felt her heart thud in her chest.
-o-
Harding knew she had let her eyes linger a little too long, because Evka snapped her fingers in front of Harding’s face, making her startle herself out of her distraction.
“They've shown up to nearly every home game, nearly every practice, and I’m tired of watching you pine.”
“I'm not pining! I'm not a tree, Evka!”
Evka pushed herself off the wall with the bottom of her foot. “If you don’t get the hell out of here and take Taash with you, I’m going to tell the whole team that our pitcher doesn’t know how to ask anyone out.”
“Evka! Don’t!”
“One.”
“Taash isn’t going anywhere! I’ll talk to them later—”
Evka grinned again. “Two…”
“Alright! Maker! Coach isn’t even this much of a hard ass.”
Evka waved off the insult, taking a couple steps and then bouncing up with a few calf raises. “You’ll thank me later. I’ll tell the team you’ll meet us at mine later. They’ll be too wasted to notice you disappearing anyway. Maybe try and use some of that same energy from earlier, huh? I’m sure the giant will appreciate it.”
Evka was welcomed in by a group of teammates, putting her arms around their neck as she turned them away from Harding. As embarrassed as Harding was to admit it, Evka knew her well. Batters couldn’t read her tells. Catchers were a different breed. Evka practically saw neon signs above Harding's head. It was impossible to keep anything away from her.
Harding worked her way around the room, being occasionally stopped to be given firm pats on the arm, back, and — by bolder teammates—her rear. It was sweet to think that her friends held so much faith in her. Harding was used to endless emotional support from her peers. Taash didn’t feel like a peer though. They…meant something else.
Eventually, she made it to where she wanted to be. Next to who she wanted to be close to. Harding hadn’t gotten the chance to have any sort of conversation the entire day with Taash, save for a few text messages sent that morning. They had been getting closer and closer over the past months. Food pictures. Pictures from their relative practices. Complaining about Mothers. Harding always appreciated by how willing Taash was listening to her vent.
Knowing them, Taash probably didn’t want to distract her from a day with so much on the line. Taash knew how important the sport was to her.
-o-
1-0.
The score hadn't budged. The scoreboard seemed to be biting its tongue like so many of the spectators in the stands. What had begun as a lively roar of dedicated fans, now had dulled into a silent awe.
Harding was often called “Scout” by the ones she was closest to on the field. It was as if she could only glance out on the field with the corner of her eye and know exactly where everyone was. It was rare she even let a base get stolen.
The one time someone had, the runner hadn't even made it past the third base before being stuck in a triangle between Harding, the catcher, and the guard at third base.
If only feelings were just as easy for her to pinpoint.
Harding drummed her fingers in her glove, the one practice she had carried from childhood to now, in order to self soothe. Early summer sun hit the brim of her hat, casting welcome shade over her face. She was nearly at her limit. A limit that, if she gave any more attention to it, would throw her off her game. Literally and figuratively.
Her grip on the softball was firm, enough that her red fingertips turned white. With the ministrations she had done a million times before, Harding traced the dark red stitches with her thumb, spinning the ball slowly in her leather glove. The ball was dusty, but still close to pristine. Close, except for carefully familiar scrawled letters in red ink that traced one of the stitched lines of the ball. It read:
‘you can do this’
There was something scribbled out next to the ‘s.’ If Harding really tried to decipher it, looked halfway close to a heart, but she knew better than to start thinking about that right now and instead let the innocent sentiment give her the grounding and focus she needed. The lump in her throat sunk down, giving her a bit more air.
Seven innings was a lot to manage. For a pitcher of her caliber, it was expected she would prove to be a burden even for the best batters, but she hadn’t let ANYone get past her. Her catcher, just as short as she was, kept the same non-expressive tone to her face that she had held close all season, save for a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
One more pitch.
With a swift windup and a fluid release, Harding hurled the softball through the air. The ball sped with minimal arc toward its target—Evka’s glove. POP! The satisfying thud of the ball hitting the catcher’s mitt was quickly drowned out by the deafening uproar of the crowd.
The batter angrily chucked the bat at the plate, only to be quickly chastised by the umpire, who shifted her body so not to be railroaded by Evka, who had tossed her own mask aside and sprinted to go celebrate with the rest of the team.
Harding was swarmed by hugs and proud, excited sentiments. The crowd matched the energy and some of the spectators had jumped their way to the field to celebrate with some of the other players. An entire season had ended in a picturesque fashion. School chants would be sung about this day.
Excited as everyone was, as loudly as everyone was chanting her name—one voice had rung the loudest. Each cheer for every time the ball slipped past home plate and into the catcher’s glove — there was only one voice that she wanted to hear cheer her on.
-o-
Taash glanced away from Harding and found focus on the ceiling. Bellara and Antoine had stopped whatever they were saying and glanced at Taash before bringing their attention back to Harding.
Bellara was the first to speak. “Lace! You were so amazing out there! I thought you would have let at least one batter by, but nope! Oh! But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think you could do it!”
“That was impressive, Harding!” Antoine soothed, his accent slurring with his words. “Our school’s sharpshooter really hit the mark, I must say!” Ignoring the groans from his conversation partners, Antoine placed a congratulatory hand on Harding’s shoulder. “Very nice job! I’ll be sure to tell Evka as well—”
“I’m sure she already knows,” Harding sai, turning the ball, tracing the stitches behind her back. “But thank you, Antoine.” Comforting as the accolades from her friends were, Harding was more curious as to what the thoughts of the tall one were— Taash hadn’t said a word yet.
Bellara opened her mouth as if to say something, but pursed her lips. She pulled Antoine’s arm when she spoke up again. “Oh! Antoine! Evka actually asked me to ask you to get her a drink! I completely forgot, with the excitement from Lace pitching a perfect game and all.” Bella started pulling him along, away from Taash and Harding. “Not to mention I’ve been trying to figure out how to end this chapter of this story I’m writing, and—”
Harding gave in to the pull of the warm air emanating from Taash’s body. Taash always seemed to run so hot. What would it be like, to be pulled in close against such a warm figure? Would she melt under their touch? Taash was so strong and so—
“You did good out there.”
Harding snapped to attention as if Coach had just reprimanded her for eating one too many sandwiches at lunch. “What? Oh! Right! It—it really was nothing. Just did what had to be done!” Harding laughed and looked away, still holding the ball behind her back as she brought her other hand up to soothe the prickle building at the base of her neck.
“No! That’s not right!” Taash pushed off the wall and turned their body to face Harding, causing her to take a step back. They seemed annoyed about something. At her? Harding couldn’t think of anything she could have done to warrant irritability from Taash. No. It was something else. “It wasn’t just nothing. It wasn’t just….good. You looked— were amazing out there. You don't have to be humble.”
They had her there.
“Do you want to get some fresh air with me, Taash?” Harding winced at how awkward her blurted request was, but she needed some way to break her train of thought. Taash’s onslaught of praise started making her cheeks and veins run hot.
Taash took a step forward towards the door, before Harding could clarify further. “Let's go.” Maybe it was wishful thinking. Taash seemed grateful she had asked them to leave. Taash tended to thrive at parties. Now, they seemed distracted. Antsy.
Harding considered reaching out to grab the back of Taash's sweatshirt as they led her away. She decided to press all ten digits into the softball cradled in her hand instead.
-o-
“You're sure you want to use…that ball?” Taash asked, as if they had said the first thing to come to mind. Taash was usually so self-assured. Didn’t have any problems with bluntness or being direct.
Taash was always so focused on the little things. What made it so their head was in the clouds? And not just because of their height?
“I'm sure.” Harding affirmed through a smile, gently nudging Taash away from her pitcher’s mound. Taash turned so quickly away from her. Had she offended them? Harding really wanted to acknowledge the note. How much it meant to her. How now, when she thought of them, her back would tense and her throat would run dry.
The stadium lights cast long shadows on the green field. Harding’s shadow making her look bigger than she felt.
Taash suddenly spoke. “You cold?”
“Huh?”
“Your jersey.” Taash pointed before looking away, pink brushing their cheeks. “It’s wet. You’re cold. You’ve already won the game. You can take it off.”
“Oh!” Harding had completely forgotten about her deep-sea excursion in the school’s fountain. “It’s not that bad, and I don’t have anything else to wear—” Harding’s words got lost when she watched Taash start to take off their hoodie, the same color as the wheat littering Harding’s home town. Taash’s undershirt crept up, revealing chiseled muscles when they lifted their arms over their head to remove the clothing, getting caught up for a few moments for their horns.
Harding was grateful for the fleeting seconds Taash’s vision was obscured, so they couldn’t see the red in her cheeks.
-o-
Taash could see why Harding liked softball so much. The sound of the ball hitting the mitt before you could register the hard thud against your palm. Taash usually liked more physical sports that had you up close and personal with your opponent. Softball seemed to make Harding happy. There was a smile that always crept out when she was on the field.
Tossing the ball back to Harding, Taash noticed that Harding seemed…distracted? Nervous? She hadn’t said anything about the note. Bellara was convinced it would be cute. A good idea. Now Harding was barely talking to them. Of course that only made Taash more apprehensive.
Harding looked so cute in their hoodie. It was far too big for her to wear and she kept pulling up the sleeves before tossing the ball back. The action hadn’t been completely altruistic. Taash had been fighting too hard to push away thoughts of Harding's wet jersey sticking to her chest.
Pop!
It was still nice. Even in silence like this. Harding probably had a lot on her mind. If this was what she needed to relax…
Pop!
Taash glanced down at the ball in their glove before throwing it back. Their familiar handwriting made them purse their lips and knit their eyebrows. Harding achieved the impossible all on her own. Would it have been nice to hear at least a thank you? Maybe throw her arms around their neck? A kiss on the cheek? Taash would happily kneel down to Harding’s level for that.
Pop!
A moth flew by Taash’s nose, making their nose tickle in response. When they had thrown the ball back, Harding had swiveled on her feet, her back now to Taash. She started fidgeting with something. Probably adjusting the sleeves of the hoodie. Ugh. She did look really cute in it. Maybe Harding could just keep it. Promise them that she’d wear it for the fleeting times they were actually able to get private time together. Or maybe Taash could demand it back. Have Harding strip it off in front of them. Harding smelled really good when she was sweaty— actually she smelled good all the time. They’d have to make sure that Bellara didn’t accidentally mix up their clothes together and throw it in the washer.
Taash was pretty used to noticing the small movements made by Harding. Not that they were being creepy. They just liked to pay attention. How she always tied her cleats with two knots. How she always flipped her sandwich over before taking the first bite. The way her nose wrinkled when she was smelling a new plant she had just purchased.
That’s why when Harding’s arm pulled back just a bit more, Taash expected a bit more oomph on the pitch. Instead, the ball sailed over their head, arcing high overhead and clanging against the seats of the metal bleachers. “Ah! Sorry!” Harding yelled, waving her hands in apology. “Can you go get that one Taash?”
Weird. No big deal. But weird. Maybe they were supposed to jump for it? Taash supposed they could have but the ball had gone really high. Okay. Nothing to be annoyed by. Probably just a mistake. Good chance for Taash to play the hero and find Harding’s lost treasure. Taash wouldn’t sit there and let the infamous, perfect, championship-winning game ball fall victim to some ugly, dumb bleachers. Those damn things needed to be replaced anyway.
Taash had to duck low to avoid the rungs and steel beams that stretched upward. Last time they had bothered to explore here, their horns had gotten stuck in one of the protruding beams and, as a result, had a headache for two days.
Where exactly had it gone? Taash was sure they had seen it fall somewhere—
After a few minutes, Taash caught sight of the softball. It had rolled itself against one of the thick, rusted legs of the bleachers, camouflaged by a thicket of weeds. Taash squatted low, resting their backside on the heel of their sneakers. Slowly, Taash started turning the softball in their hand. They had overheard some people complain about the sport —the ball didn’t seem all that big.
Actually. Harding’s hands were so small. She really was able to throw this so well?
What else could Harding do with those hands? Were they soft to the touch? Or callused? Shaped and worn from all those years of playing sports. Fingertips as unique as her smile. Something about that sounded nice to Taash. Roughness and strength from someone who was normally so gentle with the world. What would they feel like having those fingers dancing up their arms? Their face? Maybe, drumming against the back of their neck, pulling them closer for a kiss—
Wait.
Their eyes had adjusted to the dark. Well enough that it was much easier to read the text scribbled in thick black marker beneath their own on the softball. They had to mouth it to themselves. As if saying it out loud would make it more real. They wanted it to be real. Needed it to be.
‘I like you’
Footsteps had crept up behind them. Slow and apprehensive. A contrast to their rapid fire heartbeat.
“Are you having trouble, Taash?” Hope, dripping from her ask.
“Do you mean it?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you mean it?” Less confident the second time. Softer.
Taash felt their center of balance give out beneath them. Hard. They had been tackled so hard by Harding. The strength that must lie in those hips to take someone as big as they were down. It made complete sense why she was captain. It made more sense why the fire pit deep in Taash’s core, was rising up and blazing in their chest.
When Taash had gotten their bearings, turning over on their back, their body froze at the sight. The feeling. Harding was now straddling their midsection. Hoodie sleeves rolling down her arms and covering her hands. Almost comical. Even when she was being forward like this, she looked so cute. So cute that all Taash wanted to do was crush their lips together.
“I want to kiss you.”
Wait. Was Harding reading their mind? “What?”
“I want to kiss you! I’ve wanted to, like all season!” There was a light whine to her voice. Harding was always so certain and deliberate with her words, but they came out choked. Harding’s voice made Taash feel like they had decided to swallow the softball that had dropped out of their hands.
Taash searched for any twitch of the eyebrows. Any falter of Harding's embarrassed smile. Anything that would affirm their own bias that Harding wasn’t telling the truth. Harding very rarely lied. Harding very rarely was able to hide how she was truly feeling from her face.
Taash didn’t ask for any further details. It was all the confirmation they needed. Taash reached up and grabbed Harding by the cheeks, pulling her down so that she was prone over their body. Harding let out a short gasp of surprise before being interrupted by Taash crashing their lips together. They savored how short Harding's breaths were, until they had finally settled into a long slow and satisfied sigh.
Taash’s heart raced when they realized that Harding was putting just as much energy into the kiss as they were. Taash nudged Harding's face to the side with their nose so they could press further. Through lidded eyes, they could see the red tint to her cheeks. The promise in Harding’s own eyes reflected back at them before they closed. Slowly.
Did she always smell this good? It was a mixture of freshly cut grass, sweat, and flowers. Taash couldn’t remember if Harding had ever smelled like anything else. All they knew was that her natural scent was the air giving them life right now. With each deep inhale, Taash wanted to pull away and kiss her again—basking in the glory of finally getting their hands on the treasure they had been seeking all this time.
Taash snuck their hands underneath their hoodie to get easier access to Harding’s back—even with the damp jersey in between their fingertips and skin, Taash nerves sizzle at the contact.
-o-
Harding’s breathing felt like she had just run fifty laps after practice—hard and heavy. Taash had crept their hands underneath the layer of their own hoodie and Harding felt her back muscles tense under the scrutiny of Taash’s fingertips. Taash’s hands were so warm against her damp jersey. If those hands could bring so much heat to her back, she couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel when clenched around her bare skin. Her skin felt branded by their touch of fire. Taash’s grip pressed their bodies tighter together, but Harding found herself still wanting to press further into their body. She had welcomed Taash’s hoodie, but now it was just a nuisance.
She let out a short groan when she harshly pulled away. Taash looked shocked, as if they were going to question the act—until they immediately pursed their lips when she slowly started pulling off the hoodie, enjoying the way Taash’s eyes clung to her. She threw it off to the side, along with her jersey, leaving her in only a tight and damp undershirt. One that still pressed against her skin in the places that she hoped would tempt Taash enough for another kiss.
It was more than enough.
What sounded like a purr crept from Taash’s throat and Harding moaned into the new kiss. This energy that was brimming up in her body — maybe it was just the excitement from the day culminating into this moment? It had been months of…pining for this. At first, it was just a fleeting daydream during group activities. Those moments where the two had locked and lingered eyes before being pushed to focus on something or someone else.
Now, they were finally alone. Alone enough to get lost in each other after eons of lost time.
Harding was brought out of her thoughts when Taash bit her lower lip, hard enough to pull a small hungry cry from her. Taash’s tongue brushed the spot they had bit in delicate strokes until Harding opened her lips just enough to allow their tongues to dance together.
“You have a party to get to.” Taash muttered, grip tightening on Harding’s hip as the other hand started creeping its way under her shirt.
“Yeah. I don’t care about that.” Harding smirked, trailing a finger slowly up their bicep. Taash subconsciously flexed, receiving a sharp inhale from the captain in response. “Because if you’re lucky,” Harding brought her face down to whisper into Taash’s ear, her breath forcing a heavy shudder from the body beneath her. “—Maybe you’ll get to round the bases tonight.”
Taash gave a short laugh through a foxish smirk. Their hand had made its way higher now, thumb circling the binding of her bra. The summer heat was nothing compared to the heat Taash’s breath on her neck. They lightly nipped at her collarbone, before whispering back.
“Sure. If you’re lucky.”