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Third Base by Stella


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First base: kissing. 

Second base: above the waist. Third base: below the waist. Home run: no explanation needed. Every baseball player knows to keep their eye on the ball and swing for the fences. Each base counts, but a home run is the goal. No one wants to strike out. This is true both on and off the field. Ellie had been my best friend since we were born, and we had a plan—get out of the tiny Alabama town we’d grown up in and go to college…together. But even life’s best-laid plans could throw a powerful curveball. Rather than attend classes, I was now the starting pitcher for a Major League team. While my game-day stats were impressive, my record with women was less desirable. I was the professional baseball player who hadn’t been able to make it past third base since the one and only night I’d played hardball with my best friend. When the bottom of the ninth came to a close on my career, I had to decide if our friendship was worth more than a few extra innings. 


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