# Chapter 16: A Home Run for the Heart
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 16 of "Just for the Plot." This chapter takes us to the ballpark, where Bower finds herself surrounded by cheering crowds, questionable food choices, and a whole lot of feelings she's trying very hard to ignore. Buckle up, because this one's a journey — with hot dogs, home runs, and a revelation about a certain baseball player's backside that Bower definitely did *not* ask to notice.
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The chapter opens with Bower linking her arm through Gabby's like she's afraid her best friend might vanish into thin air. They're walking through the Bombers concourse, and Bower is practically gushing — she's so happy to have Gabby back that she's declared, with zero hesitation, "Don't ever leave me ever again. You live here now."
Gabby, ever the practical one, reminds Bower that *she* was the one who left. But Bower waves it off dramatically: "No, you got married and traded me in for a more muscular, grumpy version."
It's the kind of playful banter that only comes from years of friendship, and Gabby reassures her with genuine warmth, "I love him, but he never could replace you."
And Bower, never one to hide her need for validation, simply says, "Keep saying that to me. I need the reassurance."
They make their way down to their seats — and let me tell you, these aren't just any seats. Bennett clearly pulled some serious strings or dropped some serious cash, because they're ten rows back from the first base on-deck circle. Ryland and Gabby are absolutely *frothing* over the tickets, their excitement palpable. Bower, meanwhile, just admires their appreciation for good seating arrangements.
Once settled, with drinks fitting snugly into cupholders, Bower grabs her hot dog and immediately hands her phone to Gabby. "Can you take a picture of me with my hot dog?"
Gabby chuckles. "Sure. Do you want the field in it, or just you and your hot dog?"
Bower rolls her eyes like it's the most obvious question in the world. "With the field. I want to do a front and a back picture to send to Bennett so he can see the shirt I got to wear."
Here's the thing — earlier that day, while doing her rounds for Adalade, Bower had Mark drop her off at a sporting goods store. She bought a shirt with Brinkman — that's Bennett's last name, for those keeping score — and his number, twenty-two, on the back. It's a bit tight because it's a kid's size, but the alternative was something way too big, and Bower was not about to wear a tent to a baseball game.
Gabby raises an eyebrow. "You're going to send it to Bennett?"
Bower's response is pure deflection: "Uh, yeah, so he can see that his neighbor supports him."
She holds up the hot dog, posing like she's in a commercial, and Gabby snaps the front picture. Then Bower turns around, flipping her hair to one side, and Gabby captures the back — the money shot, showcasing that number twenty-two.
When Bower gets her phone back, she motions for Gabby and Ryland to pose together. They're both decked out in Bombers gear, twinning in the most adorable way possible. They look so happy, so *right* together.
Bower takes the picture, then opens her text thread with Bennett. She sends him all the photos with a message letting him know they plan on being the loudest people in the stadium.
And that's when the trouble starts.
---
Bower puts her phone aside and takes a giant, enthusiastic bite of her hot dog, staring out at the pristine, well-manicured field. "Wow, that grass is so—" She pauses, catching both Gabby and Ryland staring at her with expressions she can't quite read. "What?" She wipes at her mouth. "Do I have ketchup on my face?"
Gabby's voice is careful, probing. "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"You just sent Bennett a picture of you."
Bower is genuinely confused. "Uh, yeah, because I'm wearing this shirt and I'm at his game."
And then Ryland drops a bomb with all the casualness of someone commenting on the weather: "That's... very girlfriend-like of you."
Bower scoffs. She practically *laughs*. Ryland has completely lost his mind.
"Girlfriend of me?" she asks, incredulous. "Uh, no, it's not. First, I'm seeing someone sort of — kind of — second, I'm just being a friend, and there's nothing girlfriend about me and Bennett."
Gabby presses harder. "Are you sure? Because that would be... well, it wouldn't be right."
"Of course it wouldn't be right. He's eight years younger than me, your brother, and not my type."
But here's the thing, dear readers — Bower is a liar. A very effective liar, but a liar nonetheless. Because in her head, she adds: *Ehh, maybe a little my type. The dark hair, light blue eyes, and thick scruff... God, so hot...*
She quickly corrects herself, insisting she means the *aesthetic* of a man like that, not Bennett specifically. Bennett is... sure, he's attractive, and the muscles don't hurt, but he's not her type.
But even as she thinks it, she can't quite convince herself. And neither should you, because Bower didn't even believe her own lie.
Gabby lays out the full argument, and it's a compelling one. There's the age difference, the fact that he's her brother, and then there's the deeper layer — the history. Gabby reminds Bower of the promise she made one night when they were both working at the Olive Garden, when Gabby was sobbing in the back of a stockroom, at her wit's end, unable to make rent because her sketchy boyfriend at the time had taken money from her.
Bower remembers that night like it was yesterday.
"I promised that no matter what, I'd take care of Bennett."
Gabby's voice gets emotional as she continues. "And when his apartment was broken into and... and they robbed him blind, that was... my lowest moment, Bower. But you promised you would help take care of it, and you did. You helped with filing the police report, even though it was months later. That's the friend I need. I don't... I don't need a friend trying to hook up with my brother. I need you by my side, like you always have been."
There it is. The heart of Gabby's fear, laid bare. She's terrified of losing her best friend to her brother. It's not jealousy exactly — it's desperation. She needs Bower in her corner, always.
Bower takes Gabby's hand and holds it tight. "And I am. Nothing has changed. It's you and me."
She reassures Gabby that she and Bennett are just friends — he's the only person she knows in this city, of course they've been spending time together. But there's no need to worry. They'll keep it that way.
To lighten the mood, Bower smirks and adds, "I'd like to set him up with someone, just like he set me up, but I don't know anyone."
Gabby's eyes light up. "Maybe we can make him a dating profile."
"Oh my gosh, I love—"
But Ryland cuts in, draping his arm protectively behind Gabby. "Nope. Not going to let that happen. Let the boy figure out his own love life. He probably hasn't put effort into dating because he's coming toward the end of his season. He's focused, and he's gained so much popularity that it will be harder for him."
Bower considers this. It's actually a good point. Bennett's star is rising, and that changes the game in ways she hadn't fully considered.
The conversation shifts to Bower's love life, and this is where things get interesting. Gabby asks if she's kissed Cougar yet — that's the man Bower is "sort of, kind of" seeing, for those who might need a refresher. They've been on three dates.
"No," Bower admits. "Haven't really had that feeling, you know?"
Gabby's confusion is almost comical. "Really? That's very unlike you, looking for a feeling."
"A feeling of attraction," Bower clarifies. "I think I might be broken."
"No, not broken."
Bower slowly nods, dabbing her napkin at her mouth. And then she unleashes the unfiltered truth that she hasn't been able to tell anyone else — not Bennett (that would be weird), not Adalade (absolutely not), only finally getting it off her chest to her best friend: "Yup, broken, because I haven't thought about him naked once, and you know how much I like to think about dicks."
Ryland's quiet "Jesus" is lost in the chaos.
"I like to think about them penetrating me and tickling me and rubbing all over my face."
"Can you not?" Ryland begs, leaning forward. "There are people around us."
Gabby, bless her heart, doesn't miss a beat. "And they're paying attention to the game, not to us." She turns back to Bower. "So you haven't been thinking about his penis in your mouth?"
"For the love of God," Ryland grumbles.
But Bower is on a roll now. "No. I have not had any visions of his penis near me and it's... it's disturbing."
Ryland mutters, "This conversation is disturbing."
Gabby shushes him with a finger. "Watch your sports."
"This is your sports too."
"Yes, but my favorite player is still in the locker room, so I can focus on my friend right now."
The dynamic between these three is absolutely delightful. Ryland, the long-suffering husband, caught between two women who have zero filter. Gabby, the supportive best friend, diving headfirst into the chaos. And Bower, the woman at the center of it all, desperately trying to figure out why she feels absolutely nothing for a man who is, by all accounts, objectively attractive.
Gabby offers a theory: "It does seem like you might be broken. Maybe it's all the romance you've been reading. It's desensitized you."
Bower shakes her head. "If anything, it's made me hornier. I just don't know if I'm into this guy."
"Which is odd, because he's hot, tall, muscular—"
"Sitting right here, babe."
Gabby turns to Ryland and kisses him. And not just any kiss — a full-on, open-mouthed, tongue-engaged kiss that makes him clear his throat when she finally pulls away. "And I love you so much."
Ryland, satisfied with that display of affection, goes back to his beer but keeps his arm draped over her chair. A silent claim. A possessive, loving gesture that says *she's mine* without a single word.
And this, right here, is what Bower wants. She wants that all-consuming love — the healthy possessiveness, the staking of claims, the public displays of affection without fear of repercussions. She wants to feel loved. Held. Cherished.
But with Cougar? She's just not there. Yet.
---
Gabby, ever perceptive, offers some wisdom: "Maybe he's not the guy for you."
Bower shrugs, uncertain. "I don't know. I'm going to go out with him again, as he texted asking when I'm free."
This is news. Apparently, during their last date, Cougar started chatting more openly, and maybe — just maybe — he sees her differently. Not like the other women who date him for one thing.
"The sex," Gabby supplies helpfully.
Bower's lips thin. "You don't have to put 'the' in front of sex."
"Feels more official that way."
"Either way, maybe he's used to women like that and I'm just not her, so he finds me fascinating."
Gabby nods sagely. "Probably. And that's something to hold on to. It's nice to be fascinating."
"Yeah, I guess so." Bower sighs and looks out toward the field. "Just wish being fascinating came with dick tickles."
"Don't call it that," Ryland says, his patience clearly hanging by a thread.
Bower leans forward, looking him dead in the eyes with a sweetly dangerous smile. "Sir. May I remind you, once again, this conversation does not involve you. So keep that trap shut or I'm going to swap seats with your girl and you'll then have the utter joy of cradling me for the next three hours."
Ryland turns away and goes back to observing the field.
"That's what I thought." Bower sighs. "Now, where was I?"
"Dick tickles," Gabby says gleefully.
"Right."
---
The crowd erupts in cheers as the Bombers take the field for warm-ups. Bower's eyes find Bennett immediately — he jogs out to the outfield grass, tossing the ball with Nolan Hart. She can tell it's Nolan from his tattoos.
A group of women huddled against the netting start catcalling, waving signs and making complete asses of themselves. Bower knows Bennett better than that. He's sophisticated. He would never pay attention to such blatant behavior.
He's—
"He looks so much bigger," Gabby says, interrupting Bower's thoughts. "Every time I see him, I swear he's packed on another ten pounds of muscle."
Bower can vouch for the muscles. She's seen him with his shirt off. He has a lot of them.
But this is the first time she's noticing that he has quite the ass. Very round. Has it always been that round? Has he always had an ass? Maybe it's his tight pants accentuating said feature. Or the way his broad shoulders tug on his shirt, forcing the fabric to narrow down around his waist.
Oh, you know what — it's probably the belt.
Yes. The belt. Bower is going to ask him where he got that belt, because if it can give her even a fraction of that booty pop, she wants one.
"Seems regular to me," she says aloud, desperately hoping Gabby didn't somehow read her thoughts about Bennett's ass. Not that she's attracted to it. She just *noticed* it. Given Gabby's earlier reaction, the last thing Bower needs is her best friend knowing she noticed Bennett's very round, very impressive behind.
Although... it *is* a nice ass.
But that's all she'll say about it.
---
The game progresses, and Bower finds herself surprisingly invested. The score is tied. It's the last inning. There's a runner on second with one out.
"You know, baseball can be quite thrilling," Bower announces, sailing popcorn from a plastic helmet directly into her mouth.
Gabby shushes her, perched on the edge of her seat. "Bennett's getting on deck."
Bower watches as Bennett steps out of the dugout, slipping his helmet on with one hand, his forearm flexing with the movement. He rests his bat against his leg as he adjusts his batting gloves, tightening them around his wrists before picking the bat back up and strengthening his grip.
Her eyes travel the length of his back — how his shoulder blades pull at the fabric — and once again, his butt is on full display.
She really thinks it's the belt.
Has to be.
The batter before Bennett swings and hits the ball straight into the ground — a grounder, as the baseball fanatics call it. The shortstop grabs the ball, scares the base runner back to second, and then throws the batter out at first, yeeting the ball with all his might.
Quite an impressive display of athleticism. Unfortunately, it didn't help them win.
Now the screen shows two outs. The runner's still on second. And it's Bennett's turn.
A lucky motherfucker with a mic announces Bennett's name, his number — twenty-two, the day he and Gabby left foster care — and his walk-up song plays. It's some techno beat drop that gets the stadium going every single time, accompanied by a light display that, naturally, gets Bower's nipples hard.
She glances at Gabby and Ryland, both on the edge of their seats, holding hands, looking adorable and nervous.
So Bower does what any good friend would do. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, "Come on, Bennett! Make Mommy proud!"
The look of absolute horror-turned-amusement on Gabby and Ryland's faces is priceless.
"Mommy?" Gabby asks.
"Just trying to lighten the mood. Did it not work?"
Gabby chuckles and shakes her head, turning back toward the game.
Bennett stands in the batter's box, staring at his bat held in front of him like a sword, ready to slay the mighty beast. Bower imagines he's whispering sweet nothings to the wood, convincing it that now is the time to make a significant impact.
Around her, the crowd is a study in chaos. A drunk guy shouts that Bennett sucks. A lady down in front pumps her fists like she's at a club. A vendor hawks peanuts with religious fervor.
The dramatics.
Finally, Bennett steps into the box and gets into position. The tension is palpable. Bower finds herself genuinely caught up in it all — will he or won't he? Will he be a hero, or will he be thrown out like the guy before him?
The pitcher winds up — Bower describes it as lifting his leg like he's blowing a fart, which is certainly *a* description — and sails the ball toward Bennett at enormous speed.
The man in armor — the umpire, Bower calls him the king of the court, which is both wrong and somehow perfect — sticks his hand out to the side with finger guns.
A strike.
"That's not good," Bower says.
Gabby, the baseball expert, reassures her: "It's fine. He likes to take the first pitch most of the time unless it's a fastball, but that was a curve and he's not going to waste a swing on a curveball if he wasn't clocked in on it. It was a good take."
Bower has no idea what Gabby just said, but she claps anyway and shouts, "Great take, great take!" She points toward the field, talking to the people around her. "He meant to do that."
They all look at her like she's lost her mind.
And perhaps she has. She's slightly intoxicated. She's had far too much cotton candy — two bags, yikes. And she thinks the popcorn is sitting awkwardly in her system. Not to mention she feels restless from sitting so long.
And then —
The crack of the bat pulls her out of her thoughts as the crowd erupts.
What happened? Where did it go?
Everyone stands, so Bower does too — happy to be a follower at this moment.
Before she can make sense of anything, Ryland and Gabby are screaming, jumping up and down, and... ew... making out.
What the fuck is wrong with them?
Bower looks out toward the field and sees Bennett casually trotting around the bases while his teammates pour out of the dugout, bouncing up and down and throwing... is that gum?
"He did it!" Gabby screams, briefly excusing herself from Ryland's mouth.
"Did he win the game?" Bower asks, still catching up.
"He hit a home run! Yes, he won the game. That's why it was so smart that he let that first ball go. He knows he can't do much with a curveball unless he needs to, so he zeroed in on that fastball and took it yard."
*Took it yard.* What a weird term.
Either way... Yay, Bennett! You, your bubbly ass, and your lover — his bat — did it.
Now let's go to the bar!
---
## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
What a delightful, warm, and utterly hilarious chapter! This was pure entertainment from start to finish. The banter between Bower, Gabby, and Ryland is comedy gold — Ryland's exasperation with the "dick tickles" conversation had me laughing out loud. But beneath the humor, there's so much emotional depth here. Gabby's fear of losing Bower to her brother is so raw and human, and the reminder of Bower's promise to take care of Bennett adds layers to their relationship that make everything more complicated and more beautiful.
And Bower's internal struggle — insisting Bennett isn't her type while simultaneously cataloging the roundness of his ass and the flex of his forearms — is peak dramatic irony. She says she's "broken" for not feeling attraction toward Cougar, but the reader knows exactly why she feels nothing. Her heart is already somewhere else, even if she refuses to admit it.
The home run climax was perfectly executed, and Bower's narration of the game — from "yeeting clowns" to "king of the court" — is uniquely, hilariously her. This chapter balances laugh-out-loud moments with genuine emotional vulnerability, and it's a fantastic addition to the story.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Now that Bennett has won the game in dramatic fashion, I predict the celebration is just getting started! Bower's plan involves hitting the bar, and you know Bennett is going to find her after the game, buzzing with adrenaline and victory. With Bower feeling "slightly intoxicated" and emotionally vulnerable, and Bennett riding the high of a game-winning home run, all those carefully constructed walls between them are bound to crack. Gabby's earlier concerns are still hovering in the background, and that promise to "take care of Bennett" is about to take on a whole new meaning. Get ready for some fireworks that have nothing to do with the stadium lights!
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