“Shut the fuck up. The baseball-playing star of my fantasies Gideon Titan?” Spit left my mouth and my pulse raced at the thought of that perfect specimen of a man. His poster hung in my room. He had starred in my dreams more than a handful of times. His eyes, abs and smile…I shivered. Wishes did come true. The receptionist at the Los Soles stadium gawked at me and I held up a hand. “Forgive my language. But please clarify. Who will I be coaching with again?”

Her gaze darted to the door as a blush crept up her neck. “Uh, Gideon Titan. He’s volunteering for the season for the fourteen and under baseball team. You’re paired together.”

“Cool.” Ohmigod. “Thank you.” I tried my best to remain calm and smiled while she printed off the schedule. She chewed on her bottom lip so damn much I wanted to smack her. I couldn’t be the first person to lose their shit at the chance to meet Gideon Titan.

He defined the term masculine. He put all men to shame. For a baseball-lovin’ southwest chick, he was it. When he was in full form, he was the epitome of perfection. Even with his injury and slight limp, I would take any invitation he offered. I left her desk with the practice schedule, reading about the forty games within four months, four games a week after two weeks of full practice.

Fucking Jade. Amazing, beautiful Jade. I called my pseudo-boss from the non-profit I had volunteered at for the last four years. She was my best friend, mentor and the version of a sister I’d thought my real sisters would be. She answered on the first ring her voice cheery. “Lo?”

“Gideon Titan.”

Jade’s breathy laugh traveled through the phone. “Surprise?”

“Hell, yeah. Best surprise ever. When I asked to get involved with youth sports, I was thinking more like pee-wee soccer. Not baseball. How did you do this?” The fresh air hit my face as I barged through the exit and I couldn’t contain my grin. November in Phoenix had perfect weather—I intended to enjoy every drop of it.

“Well, I know a guy who knows a guy…plus, you’ve put a lot of work into our programs that focus on high school kids. You’re great with them and this will be a good fit. You can talk about the dangers of texting and driving and get to coach one-on-one with Gideon Titan. I see this as a win-win.”

The stab of pain came and went—I was used to the wave of grief whenever Justin crossed my mind. It got easier to not react to it. I cleared my throat and wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. “Thanks for thinking of me for this. I’m grateful. And hello? Gideon. Freaking. Titan.”

“Yeah. I heard he can be a real asshole, but I want every detail.”

My brain wasn’t in the right place to fully comprehend her words. I laughed it off. With a face like Gideon’s, he could ramble on and on about stupid, irrelevant information and I’d still be happy. “You misheard it. I’m sure they meant to say he’s a hot piece of ass.”

Jade sighed, ignoring me. Typical Jade. “Anyway, crazy. We need to talk about that job offer that is still unanswered.”

My throat closed and I let out an awkward grunt. “Mm, yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll let you go enjoy your moment to think about Gideon, but I need an answer, Fi. See you at the office soon?”

“Yup.” I hung up, took a deep breath and started the drive to the shitty two-bedroom apartment I’d moved into a month ago with a former co-worker. I’d made enough the two years before, waitressing at an IHOP, and had saved every last penny to be able to live on my own my senior year. I adored my mom and my childhood home but shit—I needed to cut the cord and live my life. Her meddling personality got in the way, despite her good intentions. I wasn’t a bitch, but I wanted to be independent even if it killed me. Yeah—I had a stubborn thing going and I was damn proud of it.

Jade’s words weighed heavy on me the entire drive. Volunteering at Texting Too Late had started out small to help me cope with Justin’s death. But it had grown into more. Once a month had become twice, and twice a week had become almost daily. The foundation was amazing and it gave me a fulfillment I needed to deal with the guilt, but could I accept a full-time position knowing damn well every day would remind me of him, and my secret?

I gripped the wheel tighter and scoffed at all the couples holding hands. What the fuck? It’s like noon on a Tuesday—why are they just strolling down our shitty street? I parked in the covered carport, spying Michelle’s Toyota, and checked my phone before heading into our modest place.

Jade: You would get to see me every day.

Jade: Diane knows you kick ass with all the money stuff I avoid.

Fiona: Keep the compliments coming. It’s good for my ego.

Jade: You could pick the music station?

Fiona: I would choose 2000s R&B and it’s still a maybe.

I pocketed my phone and pulled my hair up into a ponytail before walking inside. I was quite proud of the way I handled donations to TTL and that our rating had gone up in the past three months. I allocated about fifteen percent of all donations for maintenance, freelance work and advertising, but Jade had proposed moving it to twenty and keeping me on full-time with pay. Diane—the president and founder—agreed.

It had insurance, great benefits and a good salary for a non-profit. I would work with Jade, who was pretty fucking awesome, and have a job on the table before graduating.

But…Justin.

Nah. Not today, grief. I straightened my shoulders, pushing down the negative spiral I was sure to have. I avoided feelings. Tied up, sewed shut. I hadn’t had a relationship that amounted to more than awesome, gravity-defying sex since I was eighteen, but that didn’t really count, and I was okay with it. Sex was easy. Attention was easy. Feelings were not. Feelings did not lead to happiness. I came across as wild, reckless or cold to most, but it didn’t bother me. It was safer, smarter and survival. Light rock music carried from our place and I plowed through our front door. I had news and Michelle Benning needed to hear it.

“Michelle. Get your ass out here right now.”

“What is it?” She waltzed out of her room, just to the right of the kitchen. She wore the ugly blue apron and had her hair done up. We both had our secrets, our pasts that defined the core pieces of us. But I hadn’t asked her what hers were, nor had she asked me. We enjoyed each other’s company and I didn’t require much more than that from my first roommate besides my mom.

“Guess who the fuck I got paired with to coach this team. Guess.” I plopped onto our long-standing burgundy couch. It had been a family piece and my mom had given it to us. It smelled like an old basement, of stale popcorn with a mix of lemon furniture polish. I loved it. Michelle ran her manicured red nails over her chin, humming in thought.

“My mind is blank. Tell me.”

“Gideon Titan.” I smirked, pulling up a picture of him on my phone. “The Gideon Titan.”

“Fuck me sideways.” She snatched the phone out of my hands. “I want to sit on his face.”

“Girl, join the club. I want him to sit on my face.” I fanned myself with my free hand. “I have to send him an email, or reach out to him somehow. Practices are four times a week! Then, forty games.”

“I hate you.” Her dark brown eyes widened, her hand going to her heart. “I’m not one of those jealous bitches. But I could cut you right now.”

I snickered. “I don’t blame you. Here, will you help me type out an email to him? Or should I call? What do you think?”

She took the schedule from my hands and skimmed the bottom line—contact me for details. She pursed her lips. “He left a number and email. What would you rather do?”

“It makes more sense to text, right?” Nerves took over. I would be texting someone whose face was plastered all over our city. Wow. But what if he’s driving?

“I think so. If this wasn’t Gideon Titan but some random person, you would text, right?”

“I’d rather call. I’d want to talk about logistics and division of coaching duties. It’d be easier to talk than type.” I wiped my palms on my jeans. “Shit.”

“Girl, this is insane. Call now. I want to hear his voice.” She grasped my hand, with her face a little too happy, a little too eager. I couldn’t blame her, though. My excitement and nerves took center stage and the reality of the situation had me stiff. “Call.”

“Okay, okay!” I skimmed the informational sheet the woman had given me and his number sat at the bottom. Gideon Titan’s number. I dialed it, hesitating for a second before pressing call. Then it rang. “Shit. Ah!”

It rang three times, each tone causing more sweat to form on my brow. The fourth ring, he answered.

“It’s Gideon.”

His voice was rough and strangled, but my body reacted to it anyway. My legs clenched together, the deep tone affecting me way too much. Michelle said something to get my attention and I cleared my throat. “Hi, Gideon Titan. My name is Fiona—”

“Who fucking gave you my number?”

His sudden verbal attack made me jump. My tremulous voice gave me away, I was sure. “Los Soles, sir.”

“Why?” Something shuffled in the background, the accusation clear as day. “What do you want?”

“We-we got paired to coach the fourteen-blue team.” Goddamn my nerves.

“Christ.” He released a long, aggravated sigh. “I don’t need another coach. Tell them you can’t do it and never call this number again.”

Then he hung up.

The first spark of anger began in my stomach. It worked its way up to my chest, then to my neck. I wanted to murder this guy. He was an asshole of epic proportions. Michelle’s eyes were the size of small saucers.

“Did he for real just do that?” Her brittle voice matched mine.

“Yeah. The fucker hung up on me.” I fisted the paper into a crumpled ball. “Fuck him.”

I hit redial, his rough voice answering the same. “Listen, asshole. I’m coaching with you. I want this opportunity. So fuck off. I’ll see you at the first practice.”

Then I hung up.

“Oh my god. What did I do?” I threw my phone onto the small coffee table. Michelle’s face remained unmoving, as though my actions had frozen time. Whoever cusses at Gideon Titan?

“When is the first practice?” she asked.

I unfolded the paper, glancing at the date and times. “In five days. That should be enough time for everyone to cool down, yeah?”

“Sure, hon.” Michelle got up, shaking her head at me a little bit. “I knew I liked you for a reason. Your balls are bigger than most men I know.”

I laughed. “Then you aren’t around decent guys. Ball size is everything.”

She cackled, shouldering her purse and reapplying lipstick. “Balls are a deal breaker for me.”

“Dude, I know.” I leaned farther back into the couch, wishing it would swallow me up. Regret and embarrassment would hit me later, with Michelle at work and no one to distract me. “I’ve said it all the time, but balls are weird. Guys have to have them, but where do they go when they ride a bike?”

“Right! Or when they sit? Do they squish them to the side or flatten them?”

“How can they cross their legs?” I added. “And why must they touch them all the damn time? And do the reach-down-then-smell-their-fingers thing?”

“Why do they ball tap each other? I don’t mind a titty twister now and again, but I don’t greet my friends with a boob grab every time.”

I laughed—Michelle had a great point. “I mean, the thought they walk around with a stick hanging out boggles my mind. But add two squishy sacks of skin next to it? Why?” I closed my eyes, thoughts of balls and penises overtaking my mind.

Michelle snickered and headed toward the door. She had to work and the thought of doing homework alone depressed me. “I’ll be home later than normal. I might be staying until breakfast.”

“Damn, well, be safe. I’ll be here thinking about balls.”

“God.” She shook her head. “I’m glad we’re roomies. See you.”

She shut the door and I smiled. I liked Michelle as much as I could like someone outside my family. Hope blossomed in my chest that maybe, just maybe, I could let her in.