Sweet Spot: Homeruns #4 Read Online Free

reminding him some of us had to work this morning, but he didn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself so there was no point. Hopefully he’d change his tune once he was bound by the team curfew, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
    When my alarm went off at six in the morning, I returned the favor. Instead of gently placing my suitcase on the bed, I tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk. Mark groaned and I laughed. Because the drapes were drawn to keep the morning sun out of the room, I turned on the overhead lights rather than try to find my clothes in the dark.
    “Goddammit, Pebbles! Some of us are trying to sleep,” Mark groaned before pulling a pillow over his head.
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said sweetly. “Silly me, I didn’t realize that being respectful of those around us was something you understood. I’ll try to be better.”
    “Fuck off.” The words were muffled by the pillow, but I still understood what he said. Figuring it was best to not push my luck the first morning of way too many, I turned out the light and took my pile of clothes into the bathroom. I even waited until the door was closed to turn on the light, because I was such a nice guy.
    As soon as I got out of the shower, dressed, and had my cross-trainers laced, I snuck out of the room. With any luck, I’d be there waiting when the park opened, ready to show everyone who mattered that I was taking my job seriously. Plus, getting through the tests meant I’d be free to raid what passed as our breakfast buffet before we were left with nothing but pastries and other sugar-filled crap we’d get cussed out for eating when we were supposed to be staying in shape.
    “Every team’s got that one guy,” Devin Davies teased, strolling in as I stood after giving blood. I didn’t want to be rude, but I seriously needed some damn food. “Did you spend the night so you could be the brown-noser?”
    “Piss off,” I responded playfully. Devin wasn’t being an asshole. He and I had become good friends last year when we’d been road roommates. I missed the easy banter we shared and wished whoever’d set rooming assignments for spring training had put us together again. “I had to get here at the asscrack of dawn if I had any chance of beating you in here. Plus, my roommate’s a fucking douche. Maybe I should’ve stayed here, then I’d have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.”
    My determination to not piss and moan about being stuck with Butler hadn’t even lasted twenty minutes. As I kicked myself in the ass for complaining about something I couldn’t change, I reminded myself this was Devin. He’d listen to me bitch about more random shit than anyone else in the organization, and he had no problem telling me when it was time to shut up and deal.
    “Who’re you rooming with?” While he waited for my answer, I could see him mentally going through the pitching roster, trying to figure out who’d be the most miserable roommate. The truth was, most of our pitching staff was pretty damn cool. We were competing against one another for a limited number of spots, but we were friendly most of the time.
    “Butler,” I answered because there was no way in hell his mind could make that leap.
    “But he’s not even a pitcher,” Devin protested. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t said to myself when I was trying to figure out how I wound up in this situation. Most of the time, pitchers were put with pitchers and catchers with catchers. We worked differently from the rest of the team, so it made sense. Well, apparently to everyone but whatever moron had set up everything this year. “Or a catcher. I mean, I could see if you were rooming with Ortiz or something. He’s a punk, but at least he’s a catcher.”
    “I know. But, it is what it is. I’ll get through it,” I said more to myself than to him. “Who are you staying with?”
    “I got Houser this year,” Devin told me as he started filling out paperwork. “He’s not so bad. Not