Totally Opposed (Love In Play #3)

1. Ryan

Chapter one

Ryan

It feels a little creepy moving into Harrison’s old room at the place he shared with Duckie and Ian. I used to have the biggest crush on him. Crush is probably the wrong word for it. I mean, can an almost thirty-year-old have a crush? It feels like crushes are something only for young people. Well, whatever it was, it’s over now, and not just because he’s dating Gordon’s little brother, Arlo. Though seeing them so loved up together did play a small part in my discovery that what I felt for Harrison was not love. He’s hot, and he’s kind and is always having a laugh, and I guess I wanted to be close to that, maybe in hopes it would help me be a little more fun, too.

“You get three shelves in the refrigerator, half the door space and those cabinets up there,” Ian says, pointing to the topmost cupboards. The apartment is old but clean and the upper cabinets sit high on the wall and reach the ceiling.

“I’ll invest in a step stool,” I say, and Ian frowns.

“Oh shit, I guess because Harry is so tall, it never… We’ll put some of our stuff up in half of those and you can have a few lower ones, too.”

“Cheers,” I say and run back downstairs to grab another box from the U-Haul. Duckie and Ian’s place is right off Main Street, with rear parking, and just up the road from the pool I swim at every morning. This way I can get up, throw down a smoothie, and get to it. It really is the perfect place.

When Duckie put up the flier on our locker room noticeboard, I was sure it was for some duck-themed party. The fact it was in the shape of a rubber duck probably led me to that conclusion, but I’m so glad I checked it out, anyway. I ripped it from the board and called Ian right away when I saw they were looking for a new roommate. The place I was staying wasn’t terrible. The guys I shared with were cool enough, but I kind of hooked up with one of them a few months back after a drunken night of strip poker. And by hooked up with, I mean, he blew me in the shared bathroom while the other guys were passed out in their rooms. Turns out he’d never been with a guy, and even though he was the one instigating everything, he insisted I tricked him into something he would never have done sober. He can stay in his closet if that’s what he wants, no shame here. But I won’t be labeled the bad guy either.

There is no chance of a repeat of that living with these two, although I don’t know what they are into, I’m pretty sure they are not looking for a third, and even though I would never rule out anything for me normally, I have zero attraction to either of them.

I’ve also moved on from gawking and making lame puppy dog eyes at unavailable men. Instead, I gawk at the sexy available men, like Alan Beaker. Not that he’d give me the time of day. I’ve thrown him what feels like a million hints since part way through last season. I even asked him to work on some promo ideas after practice a few times, hoping it would turn into something, let’s say…less professional. It never did. He’s either completely oblivious that I’m into him, or he isn’t into me at all. It’s probably the latter. Not once has he given me even the slightest inclination that he’s into me, too. I know I could just man up and ask him out, as I did with Harry, but look how that turned out. If I don’t ask, then I can’t be rejected and can go on wondering every time I see him if today is the day he finally notices me.

I close up the U-Haul and carry the last two boxes upstairs. As I pass through the kitchen, I spot Ian smiling oddly at me from beside the counter.

“Everything okay?” I ask slowly, heading down the hall to my room.

“Fine,” he replies, turning away quickly and opening the refrigerator. “Is that everything?”

“Yep, now I just need to set it all up. I’ll be in my room for a bit, but maybe we can have dinner later?”

He waves a hand my way. “Sounds great. Have fun.”

“I will,” I reply and carry the last of my boxes to my bedroom but pause when I push open the door. A giant inflatable duck is sitting on my twin bed wearing my robe.

“Ummm, guys…” I call, and then Duckie jumps out from behind it.

“Welcome home,” he cheers, then climbs on the duck’s back like it’s a pony. “Do you like your present?”

“Is it the duck or the image of you riding it on my bed that will forever be scorched into my brain?” I ask, dropping the box on the dresser by the door.

“Both,” Duckie smiles and teeters back and forth on the duck.

Ian comes up behind me. “You’ll get used to him, promise,” he says, patting my shoulder and moving to my side.

“Yee har,” Duckie calls, waving a hand in the air like he’s riding a bull.

“Or you won’t, but rent is cheap,” Ian laughs, and he grabs the bill of the inflatable and leans in close to Duckie.

“You gave him your gift, now let’s leave him to unpack before he decides to turn around and move right out again.”

“You wouldn’t?” Duckie asks, climbing from the bed.

I shrug, even though I have zero intentions of moving anywhere else. My last room was half this size, and I had to share a bathroom with three other guys. Here I got one all to myself. “I might,” I lie.

He pouts like a small child. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m leaving the duck.”

“I wouldn’t let you take him if you tried. Mr Quacksalot is all mine now.”

Duckie smiles wide and links his arm with Ian. “See? Told you he’d be cool with it.”

Ian just shakes his head, and they leave, closing my bedroom door behind them.

I take a moment to check out my room now that all my furniture is set up. My bed is in the middle and there is a bunch of space on either side, far more than I had before. Actually, as I look it over, this room is even bigger than the one I had all through college. Maybe I could finally get a bigger bed? Though there’s really no point if you’re the only one sleeping in it.

The window on the wall to my left overlooks the alley between this building and the bodega next door. Duckie swears they make the best bagel sandwiches, and when I push up the window and lean out to see the line out the door, he’s not the only one. Above the bodega are more apartments like this, and there is a window lined up perfectly with mine. An older man sits in a chair holding binoculars up to his eyes, angled toward the street.

“Hope you’re quieter than the last one,” he says, lowering the binoculars and turning to look at me.

“Hi, I’m Ryan,” I offer.

“Name’s Don, and this is Precious,” he says, setting the binoculars on the windowsill and lifting a fluffy black cat. Precious hangs limp in his hands, and I would swear it was dead if it didn’t just now lift its chin and meow at me.

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, pulling my head back inside. I really should unpack.

“You got curtains?” Don asks, his gaze moving past me, and judging by the frown that forms, he’s probably spotted the giant inflatable duck on my bed.

“I don’t, but I can probably get some.”

“Best you do. Precious here was damn near traumatized by seeing the goings on in there with the last one.”

Considering before Harrison met Arlo, he was known to never leave a bar alone, I don’t blame Don for not wanting to see whatever went on in this room before I moved in. But despite his concerns, I haven’t even dated since my ex so the risk of him seeing something he would rather not is slim to none.

Precious meows and hops up onto the windowsill, scratching her face against the rough brick edge.

“Do you play that silly game?” Don continues, and I can’t help but laugh. He isn’t the first person to not take us seriously, and truth be told, we try not to take ourselves too seriously either. That’s the whole point of Banana Ball. Keep all the best parts of baseball and take out the boring stuff to make room for some fun.

There are no walks, on ball four, the hitter will take off, trying to round as many bases as they can while the pitcher throws the ball to every player on the field before it can finally be tossed to whoever is closest to the hitter to try to get them out. Batters can’t step out of the box or it’s a strike, no mound visits by coaches, and no bunting, because bunting is shite. With a two-hour time limit on games, you win by points, win the inning, you get the point, and in the last inning, every run counts as a point, so every inning really does count, and we always play to win. The crowd get involved in the game and not just the entertainment, too. If they catch a foul ball, it counts as an out, and I’ve seen it happen more than once in the two years I’ve been playing in the league.

“I’m a pitcher for the Funky Monkeys in the Banana Ball League, and yeah, we can get pretty silly.”

He scoffs. “Bloody crime, what they are doing to the best game in the world. Why don’t ya play real baseball?”

“Have you been to a game?”

He shakes his head.

“You should come check it out. I’ll get you some tickets. Oh, and I’ll try to get those curtains as soon as I can.” I slide the window closed and turn back to the giant duck on my bed before he can reply.

Wow, my granny would have a field day with him. While my family are all back in the UK, my granny included, they watch every game, and my phone is filled with messages from them about how much they loved a skit I was in or congratulating me for my throwing game.

The Funky Monkeys and Animal Control joined the main Banan Ball League last year, but over break there have been rumors that the GM, Bart Erricson, is using this year’s tour to determine which one of our teams, the Funky Monkeys or Animal Control, will stay on with the OG teams next year. I don’t want to believe it. Playing Banana Ball has been the highlight of my life. I can’t go back to marketing other people’s dreams. If Granny were here right now, she would tell me not to worry about something that hasn’t happened yet, then she’d start singing the Hakuna Matata song, and then Dad would join in on the Pumba part and soon the whole family would be singing along. They really are the best and I miss them so much.

I pull out my phone, take a selfie with Mr. Quacksalot behind me and send it off to my family group chat.

RYAN: Finally, into the new place. Not sure I can trust my new roommate, though. ***Laughing emoji***

Dad is the first to message back.

DAD: Careful, he’ll have you up at the quack of dawn.

I expected nothing less of his. He’s the king of puns and bad dad jokes. Mom, my cousin, Teddy, and Granny are close behind with their congratulations, with both Mom and Granny asking if I’m eating enough. Teddy sends me a separate message a few seconds later. Teddy came to live with us when he was seven and I was sixteen after my aunt and uncle passed. We were close before, our whole family is. Granny and Gramps lived one street over all my childhood. But after Teddy moved in, we became basically brothers.

TEDDY: I broke up with Levi. Got any Funky Monkeys you can set me up with? I’m open to moving abroad.

I would love to have Teddy move here, but I know he’s bluffing.

RYAN: Maybe. Move over here and then we’ll see about setting you up.

TEDDY: Seems like a lot of work for a maybe date. How about Animal Control? I can also do long distance, phone sex can be fun now with video chats and all that. What about that guy you told me about? What’s his name? Alan? Or did you finally get up the balls to ask him out yourself?

RYAN: Why do I have to be the one to ask him out? That went horribly with Harrison. I’ve dropped hints that I’m interested. If he was interested in me, he would have asked me out by now.

TEDDY: Man up, dude!

RYAN: Dude? Really? Are we twelve?

TEDDY: You look twelve.

RYAN: Fuck off.

TEDDY: ***Heart emoji***

I walked right into that one. I’ve been told my whole life I have a baby face and as soon as Teddy started getting mistaken as the older out of the two of us, it became a running joke between him and me. I have big eyes, thick lips, and given that I would burn easily with my pale skin, I slathered myself in sunscreen every day since before I can remember, and I guess that has helped my skin maintain a more youthful appearance. I’ll probably be chuffed about looking younger when I’m in my fifties, or sixties, but for now, it can make dating hard. I don’t really want to date younger guys who are into parties and getting blind drunk on weekends, but the guys I do like, think I’m too young for them, and having to show your ID to prove your age isn’t the kind of meet cute story I want.

I thought I found a great guy a few years ago. Before I did this, I was a marketing manager for a new age health supplement company and we met at a launch event for a new line. My ex was great. Until he wanted help to apply for Banana Ball, and the tape we sent in had the GM, Bart Erricson, calling to invite me to fly out instead of him. I apparently stole his dream and all my dreams of a future with him disappeared pretty quickly after that conversation. I don’t regret it. Nothing has made me happier than touring with these guys, but family has been everything to me my whole life, and I really thought by now, I’d have found a guy I could share my life with.

Before I can wallow in my loneliness at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, Mr. Quacksalot’s big stupid grin draws my eye, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You’re right, duck. There is still plenty of time for my love story, and until then, I have you. This is going to be great,” I say, looking around my new room and then back to Mr Quacksalot. “You better not hog the covers.”