An enemy-to-lovers, brother's best friend, standalone baseball romance.

Jillian

My whole life, I’ve been a planner. Every aspiration I’ve ever had was on a spreadsheet, chart, or graph that flowed from one step to the next, all leading to my goal. I, Jillian Hart, younger sister of two professional athletes, would be the first in my family to hold a Doctorate.

After graduating with honors in both of my majors, I was sure I’d soar to the top of all the acceptance lists of my dream colleges. When I received my first acceptance letter to Montana University, my safety school, I knew it wouldn’t be the last. I was wrong. I’d been waitlisted at the two universities I wanted the most.

Feeling a quarter-life crisis closing in, I felt the need to have a focus. So, I decided I was going to conduct a little research project of my own.

My thesis is built around the need to understand why so many girls I grew up with —who chased a boy instead of dreams— are happier than me.

My hypothesis: it’s sex, not love.

Set on proving I’m right, I now have a new goal to achieve, and my crisis will be averted.

Step one: lose my V-card in the name of research.

Nour

My batting average was one of the top in our league in the minors; since moving to the majors, it’s drastically declined.

No matter how many times I’ve tried to approach it logically, all things point to the fact I’m not getting any action off the field. Don’t get me wrong; I could have so much I’d drown in it, but I’ve read the cautionary tales of men in my position and do not plan on adding my name to a chapter in that book.

The answer: FlingShot, a hookup app.

It’s all fun and games until someone ends up catching feels.

M J. Fields