The First Pitch

Mark Carter stepped onto the Ridgeview University campus, his heart racing as he took in the sprawling, ivy-covered buildings. This wasn't just any college; it was the home of one of the nation's most prestigious baseball teams, and Mark had worked his entire life to get here.

It was a bit overwhelming, the sheer magnitude of it. The air felt thick with expectations—his own, and those of everyone around him. As he walked through the campus, he caught sight of students hurrying to class, the usual hustle and bustle, and a feeling of isolation crept over him. This was no small-town school. Ridgeview was a breeding ground for future professionals, and Mark wasn't sure yet if he truly belonged.

He found his first class—a lecture hall packed with students. Most of them were already deep in conversation when he walked in, and Mark took a seat in the back, trying not to draw attention to himself. It wasn't long before he noticed the guy sitting a few rows ahead of him. Jared Thompson.

The tall, broad-shouldered jock was the first thing anyone noticed when he walked into a room. Jared was the definition of popular—confident, cocky, and seemingly immune to any hint of doubt. Mark wasn't the type to back down from anyone, but something about Jared's effortless arrogance rubbed him the wrong way.

The professor began the lecture, and Mark tried to focus, but his attention kept drifting back to Jared. He couldn't help but notice the way Jared leaned back in his chair, his eyes lazily scanning the room. It wasn't long before Jared turned around, catching Mark's eye.

"Well, well," Jared said with a smirk. "Looks like we've got a new kid in town. What's your name?"

Mark stiffened, a flush of heat creeping up his neck. "Mark."

"Mark, huh?" Jared chuckled, loud enough for a few people nearby to hear. "Let me guess—you're from one of those small towns where everyone knows everyone's business, right? What, they send you here to teach you how to play with the big boys?"

Mark's grip tightened around his pen, but he kept his voice calm. "I'm here to learn," he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "Just like everyone else."

Jared shrugged, clearly amused. "Sure, sure. I'll be watching, 'Mark.'" He leaned back in his chair again, smirking as if the whole thing was just a game to him.

Mark hated that feeling. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to belittle him, but it still stung. He wasn't the type to back down, though. He was here to play baseball, and nothing—especially not some arrogant jock—was going to stop him from proving himself.

---

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lecture, and Mark gathered his things quickly, eager to get away from Jared's smug presence. He had one thing on his mind now: the baseball field. The first practice was today, and he needed to focus on what mattered.

When he arrived at the field, the smell of freshly cut grass and the familiar sound of balls hitting gloves hit him almost immediately. The team was already warming up, and Mark felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. This was what he'd trained for, what he'd dreamed of. He could already feel the pressure of the moment settling into his shoulders.

He walked up to the side of the field, watching the players as they stretched and threw the ball back and forth. Some of the guys greeted him with quick waves, others didn't seem to notice him at all. As he took off his jacket and started jogging over to the dugout, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

And then he saw him.

Jared.

Of course, Jared was standing in the middle of the field, his wide shoulders and strong arms practically radiating confidence. He was wearing the team's jersey, standing next to a coach, laughing with a few of the other players. Mark's stomach sank.

*This is just great,* Mark thought bitterly. *Of course he's the pitcher.*

The realization hit Mark like a cold wave. Jared wasn't just some arrogant jock he'd met in class. No, he was the star pitcher for the team, the one guy everyone had been talking about since the recruiting season. He was the guy who had a reputation for being untouchable.

As if on cue, Jared turned and caught Mark's gaze across the field. His lips curled into that same infuriating smirk.

"Hey, new guy!" Jared's voice rang out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You gonna show us what you've got, or just stand there like a deer in the headlights?"

Mark's jaw tightened. It took everything in him not to snap back, to challenge Jared in front of the team. But he was smarter than that. He'd learned long ago that showing anger wasn't the way to make an impression. He wasn't here for drama; he was here to prove himself with his game.

With a deep breath, Mark walked out onto the field, trying to push down the rising tension in his chest. He could hear Jared's voice in the back of his mind, taunting him, challenging him.

He jogged toward the group of players gathered near the mound, trying to ignore the feeling that Jared was still watching him like a hawk.

"Hey, Carter!" one of the players called out as Mark approached. "Ready for your first practice?"

Mark gave a quick nod, trying to push aside the nervousness he was feeling. "Yeah. Ready."

But as he took his place near the dugout, he couldn't shake the feeling that today wasn't just about baseball. It was about something else entirely. Something he wasn't sure he was prepared for.

Jared was the star pitcher. And Mark? Well, he was just the new guy.

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The first few practices were grueling for Mark. Every time he took his position, he could feel Jared's eyes on him, the weight of the older boy's gaze making his skin prickle. Jared wasn't just watching from the sidelines—he was *in* the game. And every time they crossed paths, whether it was during drills or stretching, Jared found a way to make a snide remark.

"Nice throw, Carter," Jared called out after one particularly weak pitch. "You sure you're cut out for this level?"

Mark clenched his jaw but kept his cool. It was just Jared's way of asserting dominance. He didn't let it faze him—at least, he tried not to. The last thing he needed was to let Jared get under his skin, especially now, when he was still trying to prove himself.

"You can try to show me up all you want, Thompson," Mark shot back, his voice low but firm, "but I'll be better than you eventually."

Jared just chuckled. "That's the spirit, kid. Keep dreaming."

The practices continued, with Mark pushing himself harder each day, trying to ignore the constant teasing from Jared. But there was always something in Jared's smirk, something in the way he'd linger just a little too long after each remark, that Mark couldn't quite shake.

It wasn't just the teasing, though. As the days wore on, Mark began to notice something else about Jared. It wasn't just the way he played—no, it was the way he moved. Jared was so confident, so effortlessly powerful, that even when he wasn't trying, he commanded attention. His muscles rippled as he threw the ball, his movements fluid, almost predatory. And there were moments—like when Jared would turn to speak to him, or when he caught Mark staring—where the teasing took on a more... personal edge.

Finally, after one of the hardest practices yet, the coach called it a day, and the team headed toward the locker room.

Mark was tired, his muscles sore, but there was a strange excitement in his chest. He'd survived his first round of practices, and despite Jared's constant teasing, he'd managed to hold his own.

The locker room was filled with the usual chatter as the guys began to strip out of their gear. Mark grabbed his bag and headed toward the showers, trying to ignore the heat of the room and the rising sense of unease that always seemed to follow him around when Jared was nearby.

As Mark stepped into the shower area, the hot water hit his sore muscles, and he let out a deep breath, trying to relax. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steam surround him, when he suddenly became aware of a presence behind him.

Jared.

The tall pitcher was standing at the far end of the row, his back to Mark, as he rinsed off, the water running down his toned, muscular body. Mark tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice the way the water glistened on Jared's broad shoulders, tracing down his chest and abs. He had a body that was the result of years of hard work and dedication, and Mark couldn't deny that it was... impressive.

For a moment, Mark's gaze lingered a little too long, his eyes tracing the muscles in Jared's back, the way his biceps flexed as he scrubbed at his hair.

He quickly snapped his attention back to his own showerhead, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. *What the hell was I thinking?* He mentally cursed himself, but the image of Jared's body lingered in his mind. The way his strong, tan skin looked under the shower light... Mark could feel his heart race, his body responding in ways he didn't know how to handle.

Mark quickly finished his shower, trying to wash away the thoughts clouding his mind. He stepped out and grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist, doing his best to avoid looking in Jared's direction again. But as he dried off, he couldn't help but glance back.

Jared was still there, his gaze sharp as he noticed Mark looking over. There was no shame in Jared's eyes, no judgment. Instead, he shot Mark a grin that was almost... knowing.

"Like what you see, Carter?" Jared teased, his voice smooth and casual, as if it was just another joke.

Mark froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, he just gave a stiff, awkward nod, desperately trying to play it cool.

"Don't worry, new guy," Jared said with a wink, "you'll get used to it."

With that, Jared grabbed his own towel and walked past Mark, his presence lingering in the air as he left the shower area with his usual confident stride.

Mark stood there for a moment, still processing the encounter. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and no matter how much he tried to focus on the game, one thing was certain—Jared was getting under his skin in a way he didn't expect.