Page 1 of Hard Hitter

1

Jay

“You’re nuts, you know that? Seriously nuts.”

The boys on the team all laugh. We’re in the locker room post-practice and most of us have just gotten out of the shower and Eric, the team’s catcher (both literally and figuratively) has just gotten another glimpse of my baseball bat and is giving me a hard time.

“I’m just sayin’.” He grins. “Why deprive the rest of the world of that physique?”

Eric is “a little light in the loafers” as my dad would put it. None of us care of course; he’s actually one of the most loved guys on the team and is so funny he could give Chappelle a run for his money. But he does love making comments whenever we’re all in our birthday suits.

“So I should just go pose naked for one of the figure drawing classes?” I laugh as I dry my hair off with my towel. “So I’m not depriving the world or whatever?”

“Not scared, are ya?” Rob, our starting pitcher, asks. “The big bad Sultan of Swing afraid of a class full of art students?”

“Bitch, please.” I grin as I slide into my briefs. “I just don’t see the point. That’s all. They don’t pay, right?”

“A college art class pay you to take your clothes off?” Chuck laughs. “You wish, buddy!”

“No, they pay,” Rob says. “Not much, but they pay.”

“Like he needs the money.” Eric rolls his eyes. “Guy’s gonna have a Lamborghini and a mansion next year. He doesn’t need fifty bucks.”

He’s right. I’m the all-star hitter for UNC Chapel Hill, and it’s pretty much a done deal that I’ll be in the major leagues come graduation. A couple of the other guys have a chance, but I’m basically a sure thing.

“Maybe you’ll meet your future wife there?” Rob suggests with a shrug. “Some cute girl who thinks she’s the next Picasso or whatever.”

“Cute art girls?” Paul scoffs. “Gimmie a sorority girl any day.”

“Yeah, I doubt that’ll happen,” I laugh. Even if I thought that an art studio was the kind of place to find a girl who was my style, the last thing I’m looking for right now is a wife. I’m young, single, and ready to take on the world. Once I’m signed, I’ll have models, actresses, cheerleaders all lined up to spend a night with me. Why would I want to lock myself down when I’m about to have what every man in the world dreams of?

“Tell you what, Eric,” I say. “I will do it.”

“You will?” he asks, perking up.

“Yup,” I nod. “But only if you eat this.”

Still smiling, I hold up my Tupperware container of tuna salad with mayo. Eric hates both tuna and mayo. Quickly, he shakes his head.

“Noooooooo fucking way,” he replies immediately as I walk toward him with the container.

“Come on, buddy!” I laugh as the boys start to cackle. “It’s just a little tuna!”

“Do it!” everyone starts to chant. “Do it! Do it!”

Eric backs right up against the lockers and I lean up against him, shaking the Tupperware in my hand.

“Fine. Five bites,” I tell him. “And I’ll pose nude.”

“I’ll puke,” he says, causing everyone to laugh even harder.