LIFTING WEIGHTS HAD never been so easy for him. He effortlessly dominated every gym machine he encountered. Somehow, meeting Paula in the afternoon became a motivation for him to work even harder at the gym, as if his muscles would miraculously grow bigger from morning to evening. After finishing his session with his coach, he decided to extend his workout, adding more presses and cardio exercises. As he checked the time on his phone, he noticed a WhatsApp message that had arrived fifteen minutes earlier. It was from Paula. ‘Hey, Goat. I’ll be at Lionesses’ stadium at 4 o’clock. See you there.’ Now, he had a date. He wondered if his presence there would go unnoticed. He'd heard many stories about his colleagues occasionally trying to pick up girls from the women's softball team, but he didn't care. He just wanted to see Paula again. The reassurance she provided made him feel special, truly special. She made him feel like he wasn’t himself, but someone else. Someone more confident.

He didn’t feel like cooking, so he hopped into his Toyota Corolla and headed to his favorite restaurant, where he waited for Gary to arrive. Gary was his best friend, and they had played together in the rookie leagues. However, Gary wasn’t as dedicated to baseball. When he received a scholarship to Law University, he immersed himself in the wild school lifestyle, drinking and partying hard. As a result, his performance as an outfielder suffered greatly, and he eventually quit baseball to focus on law. Now, he was a fairly successful lawyer.

Bradley sat at his table, passing the time by playing a baseball game on his phone, when he heard Gary’s voice.

"Hey, man, I thought you'd never take me on a date again," Gary greeted him.

Bradley stood up and hugged his best friend.

"Sometimes I wonder about it; you're too thrifty," he joked as they both sat down.

"Oh, you know me. I'm just a simple lawyer. You're the star between us. If I were you, I'd always foot the bill."

Bradley shook his head.

The waiter approached their table, and they ordered steaks along with two beers to pass the time.

"How's everything going, buddy?" Gary asked, gently clinking his bottle against Bradley's.

"Eh, alright," Bradley sighed. "I'm a little concerned."

He dropped that phrase and locked eyes with Gary. Gary had been his lifeline for as long as Bradley could recall. They made an excellent team. Gary, an extrovert with outstanding social skills, complemented Bradley, who was more reserved. Whenever Bradley faced trouble, he always turned to Gary for support. Their friendship began when, as kids, Bradley's own teammates began teasing and bullying him in the dugout. Gary didn't tolerate it and defended him by throwing a helmet at the bully's face. Since then, they had been inseparable. So, when Bradley gave him that look just now, it conveyed everything Gary needed to know: Bradley was in trouble, or seeking advice, at the very least.

"Tell me, what's on your mind?" Gary inquired after taking a long swig of beer.

"Well, technically, everything's fine. But, you know... I've met this girl. And... she seems perfect. You have to see her. She's beautiful."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Gary grinned, then shrugged, not fully grasping Bradley's point.

"And...?" he prompted.

"Well, that's just it. She's... she's too good, you know," Bradley confessed with a hint of shame, taking a long sip of his beer to shield his face while also watching Gary's reaction closely.

"Hey, man," Gary's tone shifted, taking on the weight of a concerned father. "Enough with this nonsense. Ever since I've known you, you've been with low-quality women. Sure, it's fine for a one-night stand, but deep down, you know you deserve better. You can do better. I understand how you feel. Look at me, Bradley. I understand. You still blush when they interview you on national TV and praise your performance. You're a shy guy, I get it. But you need to change the way you see yourself. You need to see yourself as a winner, as the man! When you do that, you won't question why a hot girl wants to be with you; it'll simply be what you deserve."

"Yeah, I know. But it's just who I've always been, you know? And it's tough."

"But you've got to change that. Come on, man. You're the best catcher in the league. Handsome, wealthy, only thirty-two years old—relatively young. You're every woman's dream, every hot college student's fantasy. The problem is you don't believe it. You still see yourself as that shy little boy who was bullied in school and in the dugout, so you avoid drawing too much attention to yourself."

"Exactly. I struggle with attention, you know. Sometimes I even feel like I'm a better catcher because I play wearing a mask."

Gary burst into laughter.

"You're certainly a character, Bradley Cane. If that's the case, then wear that damn mask everywhere and be the damn man everywhere, just like you are on the field."

As the waiter brought their steaks, Gary charmingly requested, "Two more beers, please."

Bradley chuckled. "You're shameless, aren't you? I'm footing the bill and you just order whatever you please."

"Hey, my advice doesn't come cheap either."

They both dug into their meals, savoring the juicy steaks. Bradley always insisted that this restaurant served the best meat in town.

"Anyways, who's the girl?" Gary asked, cutting a piece of his steak and lifting it to his mouth with his fork.

"She's a young girl. A Lionesses catcher."

"Oh, so she's a catcher too, huh?"

"Yes, she is."

"Well, I think that's a good thing. You see, being a baseball player herself..."

"Softball," Bradley interjected.

"Right. Being a softball player herself, she'll likely understand your routines, your travel schedule, your commitment to the game. So you won't have trouble with that."

"Yeah, I thought the same thing."

"So what's really bothering you? Tell me."

"Today, she wants me to meet her at her team's field," Bradley said with difficulty.

"So what's the issue? Are you worried about someone else seeing you with her?" Gary inquired.

Bradley chuckled. "No, it's not that. I just don't want the attention. You know, I'm the catcher for the first team. The men's baseball first team. They probably all know who I am, and there'll be comments, you know."

Gary rolled his eyes. "So what, man? What are you afraid of? What kind of comments would bother you?"

"You know, malicious ones. Like she's too young for me, or that I'm taking advantage of her and things like that."

Gary wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Listen to me, motherfucker. I love you. You’re my brother. But you’re being a bitch. Who the fuck cares what a bunch of unhappy losers think or say? Live your best life. Fuck all those bitches. As long as they’re not underage, you can be a fucking Venezuelan sultan and have seven wives and twenty-one kids. Man the fuck up.”

Bradley chuckled again. He really needed Gary’s encouraging words. He felt now better prepared for that date.