Shouldn’t She Be Hotter?

Cassie

Jack and I fell into a comfortable routine over the next six weeks. Matteo accompanied me to every home game, and the heckling basically stopped. Until Jack garnered his first lost for the team, that is. That night I was forced to hear a few choice things about how much “Jack sucked” and how I needed to “get his head on straight.” The hard-core fans were rabid. When you won, they loved you so fiercely you could do no wrong. But the moment you lost, they stepped all over you on their way out the door.

We talked on the phone constantly when he traveled. He wanted me to come to as many away games as I could, but it wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be. I spent most of my time wandering alone in a strange city or eating by myself in restaurants. From the outside, it seems so glamorous to be the girlfriend of a major leaguer, but it’s mostly sort of lonely. Not to mention the fact that seeing the other players constantly cheat on their wives made me sick to my stomach.

I had small bouts of insecurity every now and then, but I did my best to keep my fears in check. Jack tried his best as well, staying on the phone with me until all hours of the night, opting for room service instead of going out with the guys, no matter how many times I told him not to.

Baseball kept Jack gone for literally half of each month. The most consecutive number of days he’d been home at one time was seven.

Seven.

Trust was a tricky thing. At times, it seemed like a living, breathing entity that I shaped, built, and conformed to fit my needs in that moment. And other times, it moved like an uncontrollable emotion that ebbed and flowed like the tides in the ocean. One day I’d be perfectly fine and the next I’d be a wreck, convinced that Jack was no better than his teammates.

I wished our relationship were easier, but we were a work in progress. The hardest part was being OK with that. I had a choice when Jack first came back. I didn’t have to let him through my front door, but I wanted to. I needed to move forward and believe that he wouldn’t hurt me again. My heart longed to accept his actions and take a leap of faith, but my head refused to give in.

Stupid head.

Jack being on the road didn’t mean that the online posts about us stopped. They didn’t. And no matter how hard I tried to convince myself not to read them, I usually couldn’t resist. My own curiosity killed me. I’d read the things written about me or Jack and I’d swear I’d never read them again because they caused me so much anguish. It became a vicious self-deprecating cycle, and I needed to work on my willpower.

And Melissa, bless her heart, didn’t always help matters. She kept tabs on every site that posted about me or Jack, and even though she claimed to not share them all with me, it seemed like she alerted me to a new post every day. I was exhausted simply hearing about it all.

Determined to stay focused on work and not the press, I scanned the Internet at my desk, searching through old photographs and news clippings for another photographer’s research. An e-mail alert from Matteo popped up on my screen.

Want to grab lunch today? I have no clients and Jack’s still out of town.

I almost typed back “Yes,” but stopped myself. I enjoyed Matteo’s company, and we’d become really good friends, but I knew what would happen. Someone would see us together and take our picture. That picture would be plastered all over the Internet within minutes and most likely printed in the paper the next day with some false headline and trumped-up story from an “anonymous source.”

I hated feeling like I couldn’t go anywhere with anyone when Jack was out of town, but all it took was one headline that screamed “While Jack’s Away, Cassie Will Play” to stop me. The headline was printed above a picture of me and Matteo laughing over dinner and resulted in a number of Internet accusations, not to mention my needing to reassure Jack that absolutely nothing fishy was going on between Matteo and me.

That was a nightmare I had no intention of repeating. I quickly typed a response back to Matteo’s e-mail:

Working on a project. Sorry. See you when Jack gets home.

Hopefully my last line made it clear that I wouldn’t make plans with him until Jack was back in town.

I worked straight through lunch and by the time I left the office, I was famished. After sweating through the humidity on the non-air-conditioned train ride home, I decided to stop at a café.

“Good evening, Cassie. You want to order something to go?” the short round man asked. I’d only been here a handful of times, but Roman always remembered me and greeted me by name.

“Actually, Roman, I think I’ll eat here tonight.” I smiled as he pressed his hands together with delight.

“You go ahead and sit anywhere you’d like.”

“Thanks.” I looked around at the empty tables before choosing one in the far corner near the window. Roman appeared at my table, an iced tea in hand.

“You need to see the menu?” he asked.

“I think I’ll just get your famous East Side sandwich and fries.”

“You got it, pretty lady!” He grinned and it stretched across his whole face, forcing me to smile back in return.

I rested my back against the wooden chair and watched the people dash by. New York was such a busy city all the time. Day or night, snow or sun, people always rushed around.

My phone vibrated against my hip pocket. Pulling it out, I read the text message from Melissa.

Cute top.

What the hell?

I looked around anxiously with the sudden wish that she were here for a visit and simply hiding from me. I typed out a response:

What are you talking about?

You’re on that Spotted website again. Spotted: Jack Carter’s girlfriend dining alone near her apartment in Sutton Place.

Immediately, I was lightheaded.

You’re joking.

Before I typed anything else, my phone beeped again. Melissa sent a screenshot of the website to my phone, complete with a picture of me staring out of the window I was actually looking out of.

Damn it.

I grabbed my purse, dropping more than enough cash on the table to cover the bill, and looked around for Roman. “Roman, can I get it to go? I need to get home. Something came up. Sorry.”

“Sure, Cassie. No problem. Tell Jack I said hello.” He transferred my food from the plate he carried into a box before handing it to me.

“I will. I left the money on the table. Thank you.” I smiled before rushing out the door.

I looked over my shoulder the entire walk back to my apartment. I couldn’t get there fast enough. Every step reminded me how exposed my life had become. From behind my sunglasses, I glanced at the passersby, wondering if the cell phones they held were actually being used to help splash my life across computer screens all over the country. Every tourist with a camera now seemed a potential accomplice in my media hazing.

Once inside the safety and security of our apartment building, I allowed myself to crumple.

“Are you OK, Miss Andrews?” the doorman asked, his big bushy moustache bouncing as he spoke.

“Sorry, Antonio. I’m just a little freaked out by all the online posts and stuff. They can’t come in here, right?”

“No, ma’am. They can’t come in here.” He straightened his back. “I won’t let them.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, averting my gaze outside, thankful that no one stood gawking or staring.

Insisting that my every step was tracked, I’d become paranoid. The press, the fans, the pictures; it never seemed to stop. There was little reprieve. Little sanctuary. I tried to pretend it didn’t matter, but the constant pressure was getting to me. Pieces of me were being chipped away at daily. Why was I up for public consumption? I wasn’t even the celebrity in the relationship.

I called Melissa from the elevator as soon as the doors closed. “Are you OK?” she answered instead of saying hello.

“No. I’m freaking out. How the hell does this whole town know who I am? And more importantly, why do they care?”

“Because you’re Jack’s girlfriend. And he’s the number one pitcher for the team right now. You know how people get with stuff like this. They’re obsessed with celebrities’ personal lives.”

I exhaled, unlocking my apartment door and walking inside. “But I can’t even get dinner without someone posting it online. Even you know I’m not that interesting.” I tried to laugh.

“But they don’t know that. All they see is the girl who has the hot and awesome Jack Carter’s heart. They don’t know what you guys have been through.”

“But they act like they do.” I sprawled across the couch. “They post all sorts of shit claiming to know everything about us.”

Melissa laughed. “Yeah, and we both know how accurate those postings are. They’re almost as good as the ones on that hot wives website.”

My heart beat in double time. “What hot wives website?”

“Shit.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Cass. It’s just a stupid website.”

“What’s on it?” I asked, before sitting up to grab my laptop from the coffee table.

She hesitated and I knew she was keeping something from me. “Pictures.”

“What else? Tell me,” I demanded.

“No really. It’s just pictures mostly, but they rate you.”

“Rate me how.”

“Based on hotness.”

I typed a description into the search engine as hundreds of disgustingly named websites turned up. I added “athlete” into my search and bingo. I clicked on the first link listed and my name appeared, along with four recent pictures of me. There was a description that stated Jack and I met back in college but broke up for a brief time before getting back together after he was traded. A paragraph described what I did for work, but didn’t mention where.

Thank God.

A rating scale of one to ten stars waited at the end of the post to be voted on. Underneath the star rating, mine currently sat at six, by the way, was a comment section.

“I found the website,” I breathed into the phone.

“Oh God. No. Cass. Don’t,” she pleaded through the phone.

I clicked on the Comment link as my stomach turned.

“I heard she cheats on Jack every time he’s out of town with that Matteo guy. Maybe someone needs to help Jack get back at her. I volunteer.”

“I saw her making out with that guy who’s always with her at the games. I would have taken a picture, but I didn’t have my phone with me. Next time.”

“My friend went to school with her in California and said she was a bitch to everyone there and no one liked her.”

“I thought baseball players were supposed to have hot girlfriends. Where’d he find this one—she’s disgusting. And she should probably go on a diet.”

“Hello? Cassie?”

“I’m here.” I sniffed.

“Do we have to go through these one by one? Obviously you don’t cheat on Jack when he’s away. You were not making out with your super-hot driver, but if you’d let me I totally would. You were not a bitch to anyone who didn’t deserve it in college, and you’re not fat or ugly. These are all jealous girls who all think they want what you have.”

My eyes filled with tears as I asked my best friend, “What do I do?”

“You’ve got to stop reading it. Right now,” she insisted, and I clicked the small red X at the top of the screen, closing the page. “And I’ll stop telling you anything anyone is saying. None of it matters anyway, and it’s tearing you apart.”

I nodded, knowing she couldn’t see me. “You have to help.”

Melissa was right. These posts and judgments wrecked me. I tried to not care and be stronger, but it was hard when it was constantly shoved in your face. And it was even harder when the things posted were blatant lies.

“I will. No more texts or picture messages, OK? I promise. You’ll feel a million times better once you stop reading the things they’re posting.”

“I can do that,” I said, obviously trying to convince us both.

“I know it’s hard to stay away, but trust me, you’ll be better off.”

“Thanks, Meli.” My phone beeped and I pulled it from my face, staring at the screen. “Hey, I have to go. Jack’s calling on the other line.”

“Alright. Talk to you later. Love you!” she shouted before I clicked over.

“Hi, babe,” I answered.

“Kitten.” His voice purred into my ear. “I miss you.”

I released a breath. “I miss you too. How was the game today?”

“Eh, we lost. They outhit us.”

“Sorry, babe.”

“It’s alright. I’ll be home soon, and I have a surprise for you,” he teased through the phone.

I smiled, tucking my feet underneath one of the pillows on the couch. “What kind of surprise?”

He laughed. “I got in touch with my buddy Jake. I saw that he had a concert coming up at Madison Square Garden. So I reached out to him for some tickets.”

“Jake who?” I asked, never hearing about this friend in a band before.

“Jake Wethers,” he answered.

“From The Mighty Storm?” I choked out before bolting upright.

Jack laughed again. “Yeah, you’ve heard of the band?”

“Shut up, Jack. Everyone’s heard of the band. How the hell do you know Jake Wethers?”

“We have some mutual friends back in LA, and we met a few times over the years. We just hit it off and stayed in touch. You’ll love him.”

“Holy shit, I already love him,” I said. “I can’t believe we’re going to a Mighty Storm concert! And I can’t believe you freaking know Jake!”

“So I did good?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sweet and cocky.

“Better than good. I can’t wait to see you.”

“You just remember that you love me and not Jake Wethers, got it? I love Jake but I’ll kick his ass if I have to.”

“It’s hard enough dating you. The last thing I need is to date a freaking rock star,” I moaned.

“Yeah, and Jake’s no picnic like I am,” he said, and the irony wasn’t lost on me.

“Oh, I’m sure. Because dating you has been a real walk in the park,” I joked, my insides still giddy with the knowledge that Jack and Jake were friends.

“I’m gonna go grab some food, Kitten. I love you. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you too,” I said, before hanging up my phone and collapsing back onto the couch.

Jack walked through the front door with a wide grin on his face, and I practically knocked him over in my excitement. “God I missed you,” he breathed into my hair, tangling his fingers in it.

I kissed each of his dimples before pressing my mouth to his. “I missed you too,” I said, before sweeping my tongue across his bottom lip. He tasted like warm cinnamon, and I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth, nibbling gently.

Jack dropped his bag onto the floor with a loud thud and lifted me from the ground with one arm. He walked us into our bedroom and tossed me onto our new bed. “Get naked,” he demanded with an arched brow.

“You first,” I toyed, staring at him.

With a cocky grin, he shrugged and then pulled off his black T-shirt. I wanted to lick every inch of his tanned chest and abs. He unfastened his shorts and removed the rest of his clothes in one swift motion. I took in every delicious ounce of him, my eyes roaming from head to toe.

“Your turn,” he said, not moving from where he stood at the end of the bed.

I lifted off my white tank top before scooting out of my shorts and underwear. Then I unfastened my bra and dropped it to the side of the bed. Jack was on me, licking, nibbling, and kissing my body like a man starved for it.

“I need you,” he breathed against my skin before licking my neck.

I didn’t want the foreplay; he’d been gone for so long that I craved his touch. I pulled at his body, aching for him to enter. I didn’t want to wait a second longer without having him inside me. “Jack,” I breathed out, as he kissed my breasts and moaned against them. “Jack, get in. I want you. Now.”

His mouth moved up to mine, his tongue moving in and out of my mouth passionately. He was feverish, and I was desperate. “Say it again. Tell me you want me.”

He kissed my mouth harder as his body moved around mine. I tried to force him inside, but he resisted. My fingertips dug into his lower back as I attempted to guide him. “Say it.”

“I want you, Jack. I need you.”

“Where?” His hands grabbed at me all over. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside me. I want you inside me now,” I breathed and moaned in unison.

With one deep thrust, he pushed himself inside of me. I moaned, the pleasure mixing with pain. “Oh God. You’re so deep.”

He moved in and out, pushing deeper with each thrust until he could go no further. I wrapped my legs around his waist, taking him as deep as he could go. “I’m not going to last, Kitten.”

I tightened my grip, pushing my hips against him harder and faster as he grew inside of me. I maneuvered my body and Jack flipped us over so I was now on top. Taking him even deeper from this position, I cried out with pleasure. I looked down at Jack, his eyes locked on mine. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned.

I leaned forward, thrusting my tongue into his mouth while working my hips up and down in a rushed pace. The feeling of him inside of me was unlike anything else, and I moaned as he pressed against the right spot. Bursts of feeling shot through my body as I screamed out with the pleasure he gave me. I worked my hips against his as he moaned, his hands gripping mine forcefully. He throbbed against my insides as he groaned in raspy breaths. Our movements slowed and he pulled me against his heaving chest.

“It’s nice to have you home,” I whispered against his chest.

He huffed. “It’s nice to be home.”

“I love you, Jack.” I loved Jack more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life, but dating him was hard. I wanted to tell him about all the Internet sites and the things they posted, but he had enough to concentrate on during the season. So I stuffed my unhappiness deep inside, hoping to God it would stay there.

He ran his fingers through my hair as he leaned up to plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I love you, Kitten.”

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 718