Champagne & Baseball

Fighting & Full Figured

He looked down to confirm. I pushed him away, thankfully the lifejacket covered anything . . . important. Not that I was about to wear it for the rest of the trip. I knew while my front was covered, the sides were open for all to see.

Brett pulled the boat around and I tried to dig myself deeper in the water, fighting my lifejacket.

"Another round?" Brett shouted to us, his hands on the steering wheel, he stood as he looked over the windshield.

"No, you got us good. We need a break." Brady replied. Brett killed the engine and threw the ladder down off the back. Brady pulled himself up and began a search of the boat. I continued floating, arms tight across my chest. Brady stood up and ran his hands through his hair and stripped the life jacket off. The world slowed as my eyes followed every curve of muscle.

His head popped up with an idea. He smacked Garrett on the back of the head and they exchanged words before Garrett stood. Brady did some digging and pulled my bra out from my clothes bundle, holding it out for everyone to see.

Black with lace I was not pleased that he was sharing it, but I knew why. I swam a little closer the boat and reached my hand up, he tossed it to me perfectly. Always the pitcher. I pulled my lifejacket off and sunk down into the water where I hooked my bra on.

Lifejacket in tow behind me, I made my way to the ladder and climbed up. It shouldn't have been any different than just wearing a bikini in front of them. It was. The way their eyes stared at my chest, unmoving, unblinking. It was uncomfortable to say in the least.

While the swimsuit had been full coverage and lightly padded, my bra was not. No padding, just intricate lacework with a thick underwire that held my boobs up and together just right. I was thankful when Brady tossed me a towel.

"Let's go home" he grumbled to Brett, turning his back to me.

Back on land I gave Brett a big hug and told him that I would return the towel to him immediately along with the swimsuit and I would even pay for part I lost. He just shook his head, assured me that it was fine, mentioning that his host family wouldn't miss it.

Brady stamped his foot impatiently waiting for me. I glanced down at the hot pavement and moved to slip on my heels figuring Brady was too mad to carry me. I was wrong, Brady tucked me into his chest quickly and harshly. Our wet bodies hot against each other. I didn't speak as he carried me, and when we got to the car, he shoved me into the passenger seat with rough hands.

Jaden, Brandon, and Garrett were all smushed together in the back seat. They didn't make a sound not willing to be on the wrong end of Brady's foul mood. And I had thought we were having a nice day.

We dropped the boys off back at the stadium so they could get their own cars. After a flurry of goodbye's and see you tomorrows, we were off. Alone, at last, I turned in my seat to face Brady. His eyes were staring directly ahead, his jaw clenched.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, pulling the towel up higher on my chest.

"It's just embarrassing, you stripping around."

"What you think mid-air I untied my top just to embarrass you?"

"No" he growled through gritted teeth.

He was quiet for a long moment. My feet pushed against the floor of the car with frustration. I let my eyes wander outside, taking in the passing neighborhood. Long sidewalks wound around ancient oak trees. Best described as quaint

"Why are you even wearing a bra like that to work?" He took his eyes off the road, his reflection in the window filled my view. "Did you think Wyatt was going to show up again?"

"No," I said defensively. "I'll have you know I can wear whatever I want to work."

"That's the point. You can wear whatever you want, and you choose those tight dresses and high heels." He said his face going back to the road before us.

"I dress like a professional at work. Like an adult, I am dressing for the job I want, not the one I have." I shot back as we pulled into the building. He parked the car and sat unmoving.

Wind blowing against the car was the only sound around us while I waited for his response. I steadied myself for another harsh comeback. None came. I got out and sped into the apartment, pushing myself into the shower. I needed to wash today off.

I shut the shower off at the same time Brady's bedroom door slammed shut. Guess I'll be eating dinner alone. I decided to go simple making enough spaghetti for an army. A note taped to an overpacked tupperware told Brady it was his portion. I washed my plate, warm water soothing my still angry hands.

I went to lay in my bed, unbuttoning my pants to ease my expanded stomach. My emotions switched from mad at Brady to hurt by him. He knew how hard I worked and he thought that I was dressing for attention. He thought of my body as an embarrassment. It hurt, I curled myself tight into a ball and drifted to sleep.

Monday was a night game leaving Brady and I to avoid each other for as long as we could. I paced my room until 10 when I finally thought a run would be good for me. At noon, Brady emerged from his room and went straight to the car, he drove us to the stadium.

He didn't apologize. He didn't say anything but an unfeeling thank you for dinner. We slammed our doors in sync when we arrived, curt tangible in the air between us.

Maybe it was because of what I wore. I had woken up more mad than hurt and decided to go for one of my more provocative dresses. White and body hugging it maintained a professional air, reaching down to my knees but - it was tight. Really tight. A constant pressure on every part of my body. A pair of strappy nude heels and a smart silver bracelet finished off my look.

We arrived just in time for me to greet the opposing team's coach. Today and tomorrow we would be playing the Ducks. They were expected to be a challenge but not as good as us. Their coach was a stout man, with chubby cheeks and a broad smile. I took my time showing the team the facilities and emphasized my willingness to please before heading to the Falcons locker room.

I prayed I didn't pass Brady as I made it to the team's office.

"Coach Matthew" I tapped on his partially open door.

"It's John to you, Danny." He threw me a friendly smile and waved for me to enter. His office was bland, white walls and a plain desk. John preferred to work out of the office, hating his time trapped inside. He's posted up at his desk, eyes grazing over paperwork. I situated myself in the seat across from him, pulling my laptop out of my briefcase.

"How's the lineup looking?" I started our daily talk off.

We talked logistics for a bit, discussing whether we wanted to put our starters in first against a mediocre team and risk injury. On the other hand, we didn't want to be overconfident and put out our benchwarmers out first and lose. Ultimately, we decided to go half and half. Brady on the mound to start, the rest of our infield starters would sit.

He passed me the final lineup and I filed it alongside the Ducks lineup. Each game, I oversaw getting the lineups to the announcer and informing them of any last minute changes. I tucked it under my arm and slipped my laptop back into my briefcase.

"Anything else?" I asked, smoothing out the skirt of my dress.

"Yes." He picked his head up from the paperwork. "This is a bit uncomfortable, but I thought you needed to know." Uncomfortable? Oh my God, I was being fired. My first job - a total failure. What if it was because of Brady? Had he complained about me? Terrible thoughts flooded my mind.

John typed something into his phone and slid it over the desk to me. I leaned forward, squinting to look over the screen. It was a photo, a picture of a young woman in heels and a red bikini. Oh God. It was me.

John cleared his throat uncomfortably, "That was Dylan's phone background today. He was showing it around the locker room this morning."