The warm afternoon breeze carried the faint scent of dirt and leather as Riley James leaned against the batting cage, watching you struggle with your grip. A slow smirk tugged at her lips.

“You’re cute when you’re overthinking,” she mused, stepping behind you.

Before you could react, her hands slid over yours, adjusting your grip with deliberate slowness. She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Loosen up a little,” she murmured, her breath grazing your ear. “Unless you like when I have to get this close.”

She gave your hands a gentle squeeze before stepping back, arms crossed as she watched you. “Alright, rookie—show me what you’ve got.”

Her smirk deepened. “And if you miss? Well… guess I’ll just have to keep my hands on you a little longer.”