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Beep. Beep. Beep

I groaned into my pillow at the shrill sound coming from my phone on the night stand. There were few things in the world that I hated more than my stupid alarm in the morning. I was by no means a morning person, so everything before about 9, pisses me off to no end. I whacked my phone until I finally hit the right button to shut it off.

However, my groan was not by itself. Another sound of annoyance came from my bed, which made me realize that an arm was draped over my waist. Since when did that get here?

Hot breaths were being blown into my hair in a steady rhythm. I definitely did not remember going to bed with someone else in my bed.

I twisted around in his grip; his arm not letting me go. I came face to face with a certain green eyed boy grinning at me sleepily. His blonde hair was in a ruffled bed head. His eyelids fluttered closed, but his hold around my torso didn't loosen.

"Good morning," he greeted me quietly. His voice low and still filled with sleep, yet Miles's eyes remained closed.

"I don't remember going to bed with you in here," I said softly.

"I got cold," Miles defended, pulling me farther into his chest. He of course, wore no shirt and his chest was warm under my touch. He still smelled of his usual cinnamon colonge that drove me a little crazy. Not that I would ever tell him that because I know his head would only get bigger than it already was.

"There are these things called shirts that people wear to keep warm," I teased tapping his chest.

"Shirts are overrated. You know you want me in your bed anyway."

I embarrassingly blushed at his comment. Why could he make me flustered so easily? I was not a person to blush as much as I have been.

"You're cute when you blush," Miles said. His eyes only opening to see the color rising in my cheeks.

His green irises were still hazy from sleep. I couldn't help but continue to stare in to his eyes. They memorized me with the flecks of gold and almost glittering emerald green.

"Getting lost in my eyes?" Miles teased. His full pink lips stretched into a crooked grin.

I slapped his chest playfully, but snuggled into him farther. He nuzzled his way into my shoulder, still making my breath hitch in my throat. It didn't matter if I was very comfortable with him; he still could make me stop breathing correctly. The warm breaths returned to my skin. This time smoothing over the skin on my neck.

I had only gone to bed in a pair of shorts and sports bra, so I was rather exposed to his wandering hands that were currently playing with the bottom strap of my sports bra. My breathing had not returned to normal yet and wasn't getting much help from his teasing. Then, kisses were being dropped on my skin, causing me to shiver at each one. His lips were warm and lingered at the skin, nibbling and sucking on it softly. My mind was swarming out of control by his small touches.

As if he was only trying to make it worse, he flipped us over, so he was hovering over me, continuing doing what he was doing. His eyes were fully clear now, alert to what was going on. Miles's hand traced over the skin on my stomach with one finger. He removed his face from my neck to look down at my squirming body, reacting to his touches.

He knew exactly what he was doing unfortunately. His head dipped back up to lay a kiss on my forehead, both cheeks, and then the corner of my lip. Finally, he found my lips for a searing kiss that left us both breathless and gasping for air. Miles started to lean back down for more when the handle of the door began to rattle and an eventual click of the door being successfully opened.

I put a hand on each of his shoulders and shoved him off of me and successfully on to the floor. Miles landed with a thud that he suppressed a yelp for.

"Good morning, children. Isn't it a beautiful morning. The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and some baseball teams are calling to us to beat their asses," Danny sang into the room. His arms spread out to emphasis his point.

He stopped when he finally danced fully into the room; Jackson trudging in behind him.

"Miles man, why are you on the floor?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his friend.

We were in a rather compromising position with Miles on the floor with no shirt, and me in only a sports bra, and shorts probably with a full blown blush on my face. Wow, this is familiar.

I swear to God, this was the third time that Danny has entered the room or banged on the door during one of Miles and I's... moments.

"Just kind of fell out of bed when Gloria's alarm went off," he made up, easing himself up from the floor. "Scared me."

Danny twisted his lips to the side before shrugging his shoulders, going with Miles's lie. Jackson on the other hand looked between the two of us with a creepy smirk on his face.

I gulped hoping he didn't put two and two together.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Miles asked. He flickered his eyes over to me, but I ignored him.

"You guys left one of your keys in our room last night, so we just wanted to come make sure you guys were awake and return the key. Breakfast is in 20 minutes." The wide grin on Danny's face stayed put. The guy was always happy and a ray of sunshine, sometimes a perverted ray of sunshine, but still a ray of sunshine.

"Thanks Danny," I replied. A smile of my own lifting the corners of my mouth.

"Anything for you, Glors. Anything." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

Did I mention a perverted ray of sunshine?

I rolled my eyes at him before throwing one of the decorative pillows at him, which he caught and tossed back.

"The rule from yesterday is still in place," I called as he turned on his heel to leave.

"And my anything offer is still on the table," he called back, walking out.

Jackson remained stationed in the middle of the room. The smile from before was frozen on his face.

"What? Why are you looking at us like that?" Miles whined.

Jackson shook his head and started out the door himself.

"Gloria, make sure to cover that thing up on your neck," was all he called in response. The door clicked closed behind him.

My hands flew up to my neck where I could feel a hot, raised spot on my neck, pulsing.

"Miles Everett Harris!" I gasped, realizing that Jackson was most definitely referring to the large hickey on my neck that was only partially covered by my bedhead.

Miles gave me a sheepish grin. "Just marking my territory. Danny is getting a little handsy."

The decorative pillow in my hands was chucked at Miles's head, which he moved out of the way of.

"Calm down. No need to throw more things."

"Don't tell me to calm down. Never tell a girl to calm down, especially me! He knows!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. "Oh my God, we're dead."

"He's not going to tell anyone, Princess. He gets it. Anways, I think he's known."

"What do you mean, you think he's known?" This was not good. Yes, I trusted Miles, but this was not good. We were suppose to keep this on the low, even to him.

"He's a smart guy and my best friend since we were little. He knows me in and out. Danny is pretty oblivious to everything though." Miles climbed back on to the bed I was sitting on and pulled me to his chest for a warming hug. I rested my head on his chest, but my mind continued to race.

I raked my hands through my hair before roaming over the hickey on the skin connecting my shoulder and neck. How careless could you be, Gloria? I need to make sure this thing was covered or else, it was going to be very obvious. Hopefully, our jerseys would go high enough up.

Miles kissed the top of my head; his hand moved up and down, rubbing my back.

"We need to get going for breakfast before we get anyone else suspicious."

Miles groaned yet again and fell back on to the pillows.

I got up from the bed, untangling myself from Miles's long tan arms and stretching my arms over my head. A few things cracked in my back and knees loudly.

"I swear, Danny is the biggest cockblock in the world," Miles muttered as I headed into the bathroom.

"That's all you got out of that whole thing?" I called.

"Yes, but the most annoying part is that he doesn't even know he keeps doing it."

I chuckled at his observation, but he was right. Danny was a huge, oblivious cockblock.

...

"Hey right here, kid!"

"Get it, Gloria!"

"Hey, let's go bud!"

Cheers were being screamed out the dugout from my teammates. I stepped slowly into the batter's box, pushing some excess dirt out of my way with my right foot. I raised my bat up to my shoulder to sit comfortably before staring up towards the mound. The pitcher was leaning in to get the sign.

We glared at each other from our respectable positions. I could practically see the smugness oozing out of him as he stood high and mighty on the mound.

I mentally rolled my eyes at him. He was similar to the many other pitchers that we have been forced to play. To be quite honest, I was prepared for him to come right out and hit me. It had been a common trend in the games.

I had bruises all over still healing from the multiple times I've been purposefully hit. Beats me why they would just give up a base so easily, but it just gave us more of a chance to score.

I lifted my bat off my shoulder, preparing for whatever he was about to throw at me. My hands made small circles close to my ear as the pitcher stood up to get in his windup. He kicked his leg up and stepped forward swinging his arm towards homeplate.

The ball was inside, but it was obviously just a brush off pitch. Inside enough to make you flinch, but not close enough to hit you. I held my ground and didn't move away. I could practically feel the air coming from the ball cutting to the catcher's mitt.

Ball.

The catcher tossed the ball back, however, the pitcher seemed irritated that I hadn't moved off the plate at all or jumped out of the way. I knew all these tricks. Dumb mind games.

I was going to wait for this kid to throw me a strike before I was going to take a hack at one.

Apparently the pitcher had the same idea because the next pitch he threw was a nice strike to the outside corner of the plate.

Strike one.

I subtly nodded my head, noticing he was a decent speed, but he threw a flat ball, which meant he had little movement or break to another part of the plate.

The next pitch was high, around the top of my chest. I was a sucker for high pitches, but I kept the bat back and stayed disciplined.

Ball.

The count was 2-1. A count that was usually seen as a hitter's count.

I bent my legs, readying myself once again. When the pitcher's leg pulled up, I shifted my weight into my load.

The ball was coming in over the outer portion of the plate yet again, but I was ready this time. I wanted to hit the ball to the right side anyway. We had a baserunner, Dylan, on second base at the moment.

The game was currently in the 5th inning, and we were up by a run.

I stepped forward and hammered my hands at the outside pitch. I made sure to snap my hips through the zone quickly like Coach has been telling me to do for most of the season.

The bat made contact with the ball and sent it on the course of a line-drive up the right field line.

Dylan took off from second base, while I sprinted to first deciding to try for second since the ball had been yet to be picked up.

Dylan rounded third and trucked his way home. He slid in safe.

I realized the play was going to be a tad close, so I dove head first into the bag with my hand outstretched to grab the base.

I was called safe and made sure to receive time from the umpire before standing up. Dusting off the front of my jersey and pants, I now registered the whoops of delight being yelled from the dugout.

"Atta baby!"

"Yeah, Gloria!"

"That's my girl!"

A smile graced my face from the compliments being shouted from the dugout. I half waved to them, which they responded with whistling and more yelling.

I took a lead off of second and watched as Jason stepped into the box. He was playing right field this game and hitting in the eighth spot. I had finally been moved up in the batting order instead of batting last or second to last. Plus, when you got to the tournament's post season, you could only bat nine players. Six of the people on our team could no longer bat. Unfortunately, Harrison had not made the top nine. He had massively improved since getting to camp, but his age being so much younger than the rest of us just didn't let him be on the same pace as the rest of us. When he was a few years older, Harrison was going to be an amazing player.

Coach did sometimes put in runners or let someone hit, if one of the starters were having trouble. It wasn't that often however.

The first pitch came inside on Jason but painted the corner just enough to be called.

Strike.

There was only one out, and we were now up by two since Dylan scored. The adrenaline from the game had been pumping through me the entire five innings we've played so far, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop any time soon. I wasn't one to be nervous during a game, but adrenaline was always there.

I glanced over at our dugout and scanned the row of guys standing on the top stair, leaning on the dugout fence. All of them were clapping and yelling words of encouragement at Jason, who was getting ready to step back in the box.

My eyes suddenly met a very familiar pair of green eyes that were the only ones not looking towards homeplate. They crinkled at the edges into a real smile that made my heart beat just a little faster, but slowed everything around me down.

I couldn't help, but return the grin. He mouthed me "Good job" from where he stood, his arms perched on the top of the fence. A blush rose to my cheeks.

What the beck was wrong with me?

We were standing 100 plus feet from each other, and he still made me blush like a little girl. I snapped back to the game, realizing I was going to get picked off if I kept losing focus on what was going on. Luckily, the pitcher was taking his sweet time leaning in for the sign and getting ready to pitch. I hated slow tempoed pitchers. Just get on with it, so we can play the game. No need to wait for a few years to pass before pitching the damn ball.

I can't lie. I have to have everything exactly as I want it or else it bothers me. I was a bit of a control freak to say the least with a whole lot of pet peeves.

One happened to be overly cocky players and teams, and this pitcher was currently displaying this wonderful trait. He kept sending glances over his shoulder at me, but kept his face uninterested and bored with my presence at second base. I was rather tempted to give him the bird next time he looked back at me, however, I didn't want to be targeted anymore than I already was by other teams and pitchers.

I don't know what it is about most pitchers, but they're so cocky. Always strutting around their mound like a proud rooster, head bobbing and smirk wearing. None of the pitchers on our team acted anywhere close to that behaviour, or at least, not as much as most of the assholes we faced.

The next ball was thrown over the plate, and Jason saw this out of the pitcher's hand. Unfortunately, he was early, and the ball was hit to the third baseman as a chopper.

I took a few more steps towards third base but not too far, in case he threw back to second to try to get me instead.

The third baseman was smart enough to look back at me though. He had plenty of time since the ball was so sharply hit at him. He took his time to keep looking at me before throwing across the diamond to first. I stutter stepped towards third base to try to draw the throw back to third.

However, the first baseman stretched and caught the ball to get Jason out, and then he ran the ball back to the pitcher.

I jogged back to second and didn't push my luck. Now, I probably could have tried a little harder to get to third or at least get the third baseman to delay farther, so Jason could make it to first.

And it looks like I will be called out for it.

"Really?" Coach screamed from his coaching box at third. "I needed you here or to help your teammate out. Get your head in the game, Gloria!" His face was beginning to flush its usual red. Arms were being waved in annoyance.

I grimanced at his extremely loud voice that carried very easily over the park and overexaggerated gestures. The field had gone pretty quiet, so everyone in the complex could probably hear my ass being chewed out.

I dropped my head a little, noticing most of the snickering going on with the other team. When the pitcher turned around yet again, I narrowed my eyes at him, sending him a glare. He only gave me a sleazy smile.

The dugout had gone suspiciously quiet as well. I snapped my head in that direction. Most of them had their hands covering their mouths, trying to hold in their giggles. Danny was plain out laughing at me. Was it funny to them that I got yelled at? Miles only had an amused smile on his face. His shoulders shaking with a few chuckles when I sent him a sharp look.

I put both hands on my hips and glared at them from across the diamond.

Idiots. I swear boys are just a bunch of idiots.

...

We ended up winning 6-3, continuing our life in the post season of the tournament.

When I did get back to the dugout, I gave my hyena-like teammates a good lecture, clasping my hands together so I didn't end up just hitting one of them. The lot of them were more like my 14 brothers, except for Miles of course.

Danny proceeded to laugh at me and then dance around the dugout singing "Get Your Head in the Game" from High School Musical, so that was amusing. Consequently for him, he got made fun of for knowing the entire song from a supposedly "girl movie." He has a little sister, so I know he's watched it quite a few times.

After the game, we piled on to the bus to head back to Marist. Our next game wouldn't be for a few more days and at a different college anyhow.

We were currently on the bus, but stopping for a restroom break before Gabe wet his pants. That kid could not hold it. We always had to stop however many times because of him.