Note: This chapter is definitely on the borderline of the M and T rating, mostly for language. Just keep that in mind, and note that this will be bumped up to M within the next few chapters. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Game Plan: Chapter 2

Its been three days. Three whole days since I last pitched and met the woman who's been haunting me in my dreams and my every waking moment since then. There's literally nothing I can do to get that sexy sprite of a woman out of my mind, and I'm more than a little worried about this.

I'm well known as being a player off the field. If anyone Google searched me, they'd probably find tons of pictures of me with a new date practically every night. Some of them famous, some not. Even nightly talk show hosts make wagers on who I'll be with next and how long that relationship will last.

They all know the same thing I do. The relationship won't last, because I'm not the relationship kind of guy. I don't do more than one date with the same woman. What can I say? I'm just not boyfriend material and never pretended to be.

But, let me be clear about this.

It isn't because I can't commit. I don't have a phobia of commitment, and it's not because I like seeing a new woman every night...No. It's just because I've never met a woman that made me want to see her more than once, that would make me forget about any and all other women. I never met a woman that so utterly captivated me like Padmé captivated me just by walking into the clubhouse as she did three nights ago with Dormé.

Man, I can still picture the moment in my mind when I first saw her.

I thought for sure that I must be dreaming. There was no way someone as beautiful as Padmé could possibly exist. She was way too incredibly gorgeous to be anything but an angel sent from heaven. That was one of the first things I thought of when I saw her. No lie. None of the models or actresses I've ever been out with could even come close to touching her beauty. Not one.

Just the way she looked at me when we first laid eyes on one another, I swear I felt an electrical current pass between us, and I was a goner and didn't even know it yet. It didn't take long for me to figure it out, though. I mean, seriously? Who would've thunk that the biggest, most notorious playboy in the MLB would be so enraptured by someone as tiny and beautiful as Padmé?

Certainly not me.

But, as I lay here in my hotel room after an away game against the Yankees, which we won by the way, she's all I can think about. Kicked back against my pillows, lounging in just my boxers, my phone's in my hand, and the screen is lit up with Padmé's name and number...staring at me, teasing me, taunting me. Like she's daring me to contact her.

All I have to do is tap the number, and I'll be able to hear her lovely melodic voice again...but I just can't do it. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. It's a little past seven o'clock, early enough in the night to call her, sure; however, I still haven't figured out our plans for our date, and it'd probably be a little creepy for me to just call her outta the blue for no real reason and do what? Tell her I can't stop thinking about her and I just wanted to hear her voice? Yeah, she may think it's sweet or maybe even cute or endearing, something like that. I mean, that's what females would think, but I'm not about to become a sap here. Forget it. Not happening.

This is driving me insane, dammit! My feelings are just too strong for her, and the thing is, I barely know her! That's what I don't get about this! For crying out loud, I met her once, and we haven't even went out on a real date yet!

Groaning, I rake my right hand in frustration through my still damp, freshly showered hair. I feel my temples starting to throb with the beginnings of a headache. Where's the Advil when you need it?

Y'know, I never really believed in love at first sight. Always thought it was nothing but a bunch of cinematic and poetic bullshit, but I'll be damned if I don't believe in it now. I believe in it so fucking much that instead of going out clubbing with some of the guys after today's game, I decided to come back here to my hotel room...Alone! They all looked at me like I was some impostor wearing Anakin Skywalker's skin. That- or something was seriously wrong with me. Like I sprouted two heads or something, I snort.

Hell, maybe something is seriously wrong with me. Maybe my teammates are on to something here. I dunno.

Is this what love feels like? An overwhelming need to...to what? See her beautiful face and body again? Hear her incredibly sexy laugh and voice? Feel her silken soft skin pressing against mine? Smell her sweet exotic scent wrapped around me? Taste her luscious lips...What I imagine would be the single most delicious thing I've ever tasted before?

The vision of her soft, full, pink lips forms before my mind's eye, and I can imagine myself holding her tight and leaning down to her and taking those sweet lips in mine and sweeping her up in my arms, carrying her to my bed, and then making love to her all night, like I've never made love before...Whoaaa...Hold up a sec. I shake my head to try and clear it.

Wow, I really must be sick or...really in love. Naaa, it's gotta be sick. I can't be in love! No fucking way, man!

Anakin Skywalker doesn't make love. He takes what he wants. He fucks a woman like she's never been fucked before, and at the end of the night, both parties are left a sated, sweaty, satisfied mess.

Referring to myself in the third person also isn't healthy, or so they say (whoever 'they' are), and yet, it seems like the only way I can remain sane at the moment. Still, it shocked the hell out of me to realize that just thinking of another woman being in my bed or looking at another woman like that...just seems wrong to me now. Repulsive even. Damn, what is happening to me?!

My dick has a mind of its own now, apparently, and it wants nothing to do with any woman but Padmé. I can't blame it, of course. I'm just glad nobody's noticed my incredibly hard dick whenever I've even thought of that beautiful angel. In the last three days, just thinking of any another woman or even looking at another woman made me go flaccid before I could even blink.

That's never happened to me before. Fuck, I think my balls are going blue because of how wound up they are. I gotta admit...There hasn't been a night in a very, very long time, never mind three nights, where I went without a bedtime companion for the evening. Probably not since I left the minor leagues for the MLB. I know, though, deep down in my gut, that she's worth it. Padmé is special. She's unlike any other woman I've ever met, and I can't help it. She's become my total focus.

Putting my phone down on the table next to my huge king size bed, I sigh and turn over to try and fall asleep, scrunching the extra pillow up next to my chest. The fact that it's only just after seven o'clock at night and still daylight outside doesn't help. Even with the heavy drapes pulled all the way closed, I can still see the sun shining brightly against them. Dammit. This sucks.

Maybe I should've gone out with the guys. It is entirely possible to go to a nightclub and not hook up with a girl for the night. Just go out and have some fun, do some dancing and drinking just to take my mind off her.

I weigh my options.

If I do decide to go out now though, I'll have to deal with Rex and Cody and their nonsense, and I'm not really in the mood for that. Those two will push and push until they find out what's wrong with me, and I'm not about to admit my feelings to them when I'm having a hard enough time dealing with them on my own.

What would the two of them know about love anyway? Probably as much as I do, which is absolutely nothing. Sighing again, I roll over, dragging the extra pillow with me and face away from the window.

If I'd known it would feel like this, then I would've avoided Padmé completely. I knew I should've said no to dinner that night, but my heart wanted her, and my mouth blurted out words that my brain couldn't and wouldn't stop.

Damn Ryan. I oughta knock his fucking teeth out the next time I see him for doing this to me! He had to go fall in love and leave me alone with the twins, Cody and Rex, and then he had to go out and about trying to set me up with every female friend of his and Dormé's! Why couldn't he just leave me the hell alone, huh?! I was doing just fine on my own!

I knew exactly what I wanted, and that was to live my life to the fullest and enjoy myself while doing so. I'm doing great in my professional career, given my young age, good health, and the bright future ahead of me in the MLB and with theRed Sox And, I was doing just fine personally, too! So what if I took a different woman with me to bed every night!? I'm twenty-four fucking years old! I'm allowed to have some fun!

But nooo, Ryan had to go fall in love and get engaged and then get the idea in his head that I should do the same damn thing, like I'm his sorry ass friend who can't get a date. Look, I've never had a problem in that department. Women throw themselves at me now, and truthfully, the girls in school did the same damn thing, even if I was an athletic scholarship student because of how good I was at pitching and how poor my mother and I were that we couldn't afford tuition.

I have the sudden urge to pick up my phone, call Ryan, and tell him to go find himself a new best man. That'd probably teach him a lesson. Though, I know the only thing he'd do is come here to my hotel room and pander me and find out that I'm really not pissed at him, because deep down, I'm truly grateful that he always thinks of me and includes me in his life.

Seriously, I am lucky to have a best friend like him. That still doesn't mean I'm not pissed at him for bringing Padmé to the clubhouse where he knew I'd be and knew I'd be unable to resist her beauty, but I'm not pissed at him enough to tell him to go take his offer of me being his best man and shove it up his ass.

I'd be a fucking fool to tell him that, especially with Padmé being Dormé's maid of honor, which means we'll both be there at the wedding, and she and I will walk down the aisle together. That thought gives me pause, and I swallow...hard...at the image in my head of me and her walking down the aisle. No, I wouldn't pass up any opportunity to see her. Especially not this one. Even if the wedding isn't until November, after the baseball season and before the holiday season. I have no idea what the bridesmaids will all be wearing, but Dormé has a flair for style, and Ryan said the wedding is going to be a formal affair. Tuxes and the whole nine yards.

But I'm sure she'll look beautiful no matter what she wears. She did look drop-dead gorgeous just wearing my jersey and a pair of jeans, after all. I smirk. Oh yeah. She looked good wearing my jersey alright. I think that'll be my favorite thing to ever see on her.

I grin ferally, mischievously thinking that my favorite thing to see on her would be absolutely nothing. Just her beautiful naked body, au naturel. I'm sure it would be nothing less than a divine masterpiece. Am I drooling? I wipe my mouth just in case, then glance over at the nightstand where my phone is at.

Sighing, I pick up my phone again, unlock it with my thumbprint and pull up her contact information again, and my thumb hovers over her number. I could call her, text her, or FaceTime her...

I consider again what to do. Calling would be bad enough, especially since I still don't have plans other than I'd like to see her when I don't have a game. I have at least figured out that much. If I see her after my next game, I'll be tired and sore like last time. I may have been able to hide it at dinner that night, but once I walked into my house, I passed right out on my living room sofa and only woke up the next morning when the sun was literally burning my eyelids through the blinds.

No, I'd prefer to have her all to myself and make an evening and maybe even a night of things...but nope, I'm not going to push her for that. Something tells me that would be the wrong move with her. Hell yeah, I want to have sex with her. I'd be lying if I said otherwise, but I don't want her just for sex. No, I want her for her.

I want her like I wanted- no needed, to make it to the Majors as a kid, and once I set my eyes on the prize, there ain't no stopping me.

So, if I can't call her, then I definitely can't FaceTime her. Oh, I'd love to see her beautiful face again, her twinkling eyes, her curly burnished chestnut hair, her full, pink lips, but we don't know each other well enough yet for me to just FaceTime her for that reason alone.

And that brings me to option number three. I can always text her...It wouldn't be crossing any boundaries or being too forward or creepy. She might even like it. I know I would.

Just as I'm about to text her, someone suddenly pounds on my door.

"Yo! Open up!"

Ryan.

Stifling a sigh, I throw back the covers and stand to my feet, leaving my cellphone on the table as I walk over to the door and open it to let him in. He enters, grinning at me like a fool while holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hands. Not that he really needed to go to the liquor store to buy whiskey when we could've gotten some sent up from the bar downstairs, but...I won't complain or point that fact out.

"What's up with you? Are you sick?" He asks, walking over and putting the bottle down on the circular table in the front of the room.

Yep. Sure am.

Sick in love...

I don't tell him that though. "Just because I don't want to go out to a club means I'm sick?"

He gives me a pointed look, opens the bottle and grabs two small shot glasses out of the side pockets of his khaki cargo shorts, pouring a shot for me and one for himself. "Since when do you turn down going to a club?" Good point. I never do. He knows this well. "That's what I thought. Alright. So, tell me. Spill it, Man. I'm not leaving till you do."

Tell you? Tell you what? How I'm falling in love with a woman that I've only ever met once? A woman who you and Dormé set me up with?!

I don't have to say anything though. He can read me like a book. He knows. The fucker. "Ahhhh-haaaa!" He says slowly, grinning madly, eyes dancing with mischief. "Say it ain't so, Bro! The biggest playboy in the MLB is actually off the market! Holy Shit! I never thought I'd see the day!" He doubles over laughing. Asshole.

"Fuck off," I tell him. Grabbing the glass, I gulp down the whiskey enjoying the burn at the back of my throat more than this conversation already. Why does he have to "talk "about things? I've never understood that about him. Can't we just drink, get drunk, and shut the fuck up? That's what guys do after all. Well, most guys.

Not him, though.

He grins again, gulping down his own shot. "Can't say I blame you, Man," he says, pouring us another round. "She's hot as hell, for sure. Y'know, Dormé and I just knew you two would hit it off. We've thought so for a long time actually. But, I'll be honest with you. If you didn't hit it off with her, then I wasn't going to push anymore."

Shit. If only I'd said no..."Too bad I said 'yes' then, huh? We'd have been able to avoid this whole conversation, and I'd be fucking the brains out of some hot ass chick from the club." I roll my eyes at him. Unfortunately, I can't turn back time and make it so. And, honestly, even if I could, I wouldn't. I want her and only her. Plain and simple.

Still, he doesn't need to know that.

"Like you would if you could." He waggles his eyebrows at me, smirking, and holds his glass up. I pick up my mine, and we tap them together before rewelcoming the burn.

We plop down at the round table across from my bed, me still in just my boxers, as he pours us our third round, which we down immediately. He quietly pours round four. He doesn't say anything more yet. Instead, we just give each other a whiskey salute and drink our fourth round of JD in blissful silence. As the burn hits me once more, I smack my lips together and lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes.

Man, I needed this. The whiskey, that is.

Ryan doesn't push. We both know that I'll talk when I'm ready and not a moment before. I want to know every single thing there is to know about Padmé, and he's just the person to get that info from. I'd prefer to learn more about her from her though, rather than from him, but he can help me out on the little things. Y'know, give me some direction, just a few tidbits to get me started.

Like, what she likes to do for fun. Knowing this can help me decide what to do for our first date. I thought about going out for a quaint dinner for two at an upscale restaurant, but I realized I don't want it to be stuffy or intimate. No need for that yet. Too much pressure in a scene like that. No, it's better if we're out doing something fun.

"So," I say, holding our fifth round in front of me, staring at the amber liquid. "What does Padmé like to do for fun anyway?"

Ryan merely grins slyly at me. "Why don't you ask her yourself? You've got her number."

Gulping down my fifth shot, I gain my liquid courage. Or, I become drunk enough to not really give a damn. "We're going out on a date. I already asked her out that night, and she said yes."

He's the first person I've told about this. I've been keeping it close to my chest. First of all, I don't normally make plans in advance for a date, they just tend to happen, and second of all, I certainly wasn't going to tell everyone about it and risk the media getting wind of this. My life can be a bit of a media circus as it is, and the last thing I want is to expose Padmé to that crap at this juncture and possibly ruin things between us before they even get a chance to really start. Nope. I wanna keep this strictly low key and under wraps for now.

He rocks back his fifth shot and chuckles at me, his grin a mile fucking wide. "Sooo, you want to know what to do for your first date, eh?" You gotta give him credit. He's one smart man, my best friend.

He knows me well. A little too well actually.

I nod slowly. "I want to take her out and have some fun. I just don't know what she'd consider fun. Going out to a restaurant, just the two of us certainly isn't that, though I do think we had fun the other night." Just shoot me already. I won't even resist. If I hadn't already drank five shots, I definitely wouldn't have said anything. This is almost humiliating, yet also isn't because it's Ryan and I know he'll always help me and have my back.

No matter what, even if he does give me shit. I can dish it right back, though, and always do.

"Hmm," he mutters, pursing his lips and pondering my request, rolling his glass around in his hands. "Well, let's see...She plays tennis and is pretty damn good at it, too. Did you know she's a former NCAA champion? Won in doubles and mixed doubles. Twice. Her junior and senior years," he whistles and raises his eyebrows."She's got a wicked serve...like 120 mph or some crazy shit like that. Dormé and I have been to watch her play in charity tourneys several times. I'm actually surprised she didn't go pro, but tennis isn't something to play on a first date. At least you can't, seeing as how you don't play tennis," he says aloud, mostly to himself as he looks down at the whiskey bottle in his hand. He suddenly snaps his fingers, a delighted look on his face. "Oh, I know! How about bowling? She's part of a bowling league at her school. Every Wednesday night during the school year, she and her colleagues face off against teachers from other schools in her district. I think it'd be perfect! Be warned, she's quite good at it though. So, be prepared to lose...although, come to think of it, you're pretty good at it, too. One thing's for sure, it should definitely be an interesting match up."

Bowling, eh? Now, there's an idea, and one I wasn't even considering. He's right, too. I am pretty good at bowling. It's been quite a while since I last bowled, but the last time I did, I rolled a perfect game. ESPN loved that. It was also all over the local news, and even FOX News picked it up, like really?! Me bowling a perfect game is really newsworthy? I think not, but it certainly is good date night material.

And, she's good at it, too, eh? Well, I'm always up to a challenge. This sounds like a winning idea to me, and I do love to win.

I store away this information as I down another round of Jack Daniels. There's something else I need to know. How old is she? Obviously, she's at least 21. She'd have to be to be out of college and teaching, but how close are we in age? I decide to find out. I flick my gaze over to Ryan's smirking face and ask just that, "How old is she?"

He grins wolfishly, "She just turned twenty-six. Three weeks ago, actually. Dormé and I went to her birthday party her parents threw for her...oh, and the smaller after party as well with a few other friends and her sister and brother-in-law." He cocks his head and watches me with a knowing smile. I nod my head, assimilating this info. So, she's just a little bit older than me...but not too much older. That's good. I actually find the idea of her being older a bit of a turn-on. If I'm truly honest, I think it's sexy as all get out.

Ryan watches me with amusement, knowing the cogwheels are spinning in my head. Finally, there's one more thing I want to know before our date, "Where's she from? Boston?"

He nods his head, "Yeah. Boston born and bred. She attended Boston University, actually." So, she's a Boston native like me. Awesome. Ryan raises his eyebrows at me and silently offers me another shot of JD, which I accept with a nod and then continue chatting with him, as he pours himself another shot. What do we each say? The hell if I know, the rest of the conversation kinda goes by in a blur of slurred speech. I smirk.

I may be a wee bit drunk now. And, it's all his fault, everything is.

Padmé, my sad state of affairs that I currently find myself in, and my totally drunken state.

Still, I seriously wouldn't have it any other way, and I seriously love this dude like a brother. There's a reason why we're best friends, and that is because he just gets me, and not many people do. Just give me a bottle of Jack Daniels, and he has me eating from the palm of his hand, spilling out my guts when I normally wouldn't.

Smart man.

After a while, and a few more shots that definitely have me more than a little wobbly on my feet, he rises from his chair, equally wobbly, and gives me a salute with the empty whisky bottle. "I'll see you tomorrow, Browski!" He says, grinning like the crazy ass fool he is. "Now, get your ass over to your bed and call your girl! You got plans to make!"

With that, he sways away, only taking a few steps towards the door before he falls face first down onto the carpeted floor, and I'm sure I hear him snoring. I snort, the nut.

I check on him and he's fine, just drunk like I am. I turn him over, grab his arm, hoist him over my shoulder, and lift him up onto the bed and toss him on the other side. My bed is more than big enough for the both of us to pass out on. I'm not about to let him sleep on the floor after tonight.

Though maybe I should, a certain part of my brain chimes in. Naaa, that wouldn't be right. He wouldn't do that to me.

Moving over to the other side of the bed, I plop myself down, leaning back against my pillows again, and grab my cell phone, unlocking it with my thumb print. Padmé's contact info pops back up, and I suddenly feel sober as I look at it. There's no way in hell that I actually am sober, not after splitting half of a full bottle of JD, but the bowling idea is good and fresh in my mind, and I want to take her out. In fact, as I mull over Ryan's revelations about her, as well as my own feelings, I have an epiphany of sorts. I grin a predatory smile. I've got a new game plan in mind. I'm going after her exclusively and then never letting her go. Yep. My mind's made up. She's mine...She just doesn't know it yet, but she'll soon figure it out.

Am I off the market, like Ryan said? Hell, yeah. And, instead of freaking out over it, I feel an internal thrill to admit it.

The time is only a little after nine o'clock, maybe a little late, but I'm sure she's up. She has to be! I want to hear her voice again, dammit! Pressing her number, I call her and bring my phone up to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times, and then she answers with that beautiful, melodic, angelic voice of hers. "Hello? Anakin?"

And I'm completely a goner.

A/N: Thanks for reading Chapter Two! I hope you enjoyed it!

I thought this would be a good chapter to show the inner workings of his mind and the developing feelings he has for the woman who stole his heart at first glance. How does a player, such as he go from being a player to a man completely ready to be in a committed relationship? Well, come on, we're talking about Padmé here, why wouldn't he want her? Also what do you think of Ryan?

Next chapter will be their first real date! I hope you're excited about it, I know I am!

Thanks again for reading! Please follow, favorite and review!