Page 34 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

“Oh, yeah. Actually, I need to make an appointment. I’ve had this ear thing,” I say, shifting in my seat to pull out my phone.

I built in a buffer today, moving about four seats down from Alicia but still in the right area so Alex can spot me. I scan the field for him and catch him warming up with Cole in the outfield.

My mom texted me the insurance information yesterday, so I memorize the number I need to input and open the student health app to make an appointment. I find one open slot for Monday and grab it, hoping they’ll be able to get me some drops or an antibiotic and clear up whatever’s going on.

I didn’t realize before just how much my ears have been ringing, but after Chris sampled my mix and made those changes, I started to pay attention. They haven’t stopped ringing since then, and it’s been an hour. And I kind of feel it’s been this way for weeks.

Satisfied that I’m taking action, I put my phone away and turn my attention to the field. Alex is jogging toward us, picking up his stretching bands from the grass, then his glove. His head bops up and his eyes spot me instantly. He touches the brim of his hat, like a cowboy says hello, but I know that little gesture is for me. And I let it paint a smile on my lips as I sink back into my seat and wait for my man to break out of his slump.

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alex

Nothing but walks.

That’s it. I primed myself to show what I’ve got today. And walks. Three walks.

Sure, I was on base and I scored three times. Stole third, too. But I walked. And Edwin? He knocked it out of the fucking park.

Nikki is waiting for me outside the clubhouse and I have no idea what to say to her. It was easier to cry in front of her than navigate what I’ve done to us. What was that in her room? Why did I leave like that?

I watched her sleep for hours. She must have been tired because I ran my hand through her hair half the damn night and she didn’t move. I was in shock at what we’d done—what I did to us. Maybe it’s a good thing I got shit pitches today because I was pretty gassed energy-wise. I stole that base on adrenaline and luck, with a nice boost from Brayden who made a point to say his family was coming out today—his whole family. I doubt his cousin is here, but still. What a dick!

“Good game today, yo,” Edwin says, slapping my shoulder with his batting gloves as he passes on the way to his cubby.

“Hey, good game yourself. Nice knock, man!” I reach toward him with a fist and he pounds it.

Not only is he a beast at the plate but he’s fucking really nice guy. And his work ethic is admirable. He told me he looked up to me before the game and that he wants to be a team leader like I am by the time he’s a senior. I held it in because I’m a little jaded, but I should have told him, “Kid, you’ll be drafted before then.”

Maybe I’ll luck out and get to play with him at the next level. I’d like that. I think I have things to teach him, but I also think I can learn a lot from him. His discipline at the plate. My dad would like the dude.

Dad.

It sucks that he’s not here, but also, he’s the last person I want to see. I don’t need him in my head. It’s too bad we could never separate the coach from the father. I still like the coach part. But what he’s done to my mom? Yeah, I hate him for it.

“Hey, there he is!” Brayden’s voice booms throughout the clubhouse, and a few heads turn to watch our exchange. I know I’ve been giving off a cold vibe, and he’s been pretty obvious with his opinion of me. But the last week has really escalated. His needling has gotten constant—personal.

“Yeah, here I am. And I’m about to leave,” I deadpan, forcing my gaze straight ahead at the hanger my jersey was hung from this morning while I shove my wallet, keys, and phone into my duffel.

“Hey, Alex.” He stops right next to me, sitting down and straddling the bench, his stupid arm icing because, yeah, of course, he had a great outing today.

I take a deep breath and pull my lips in tight before turning to face him.

“What?” I don’t bother pretense. I keep my eyes right on his. Most people get really uncomfortable with this type of alpha challenge. It’s a move my dad has with other coaches and umps, and it’s gotten him tossed from plenty of games.

Brayden? He’s looking right back at me, unfazed. His lip ticks up and he breathes a short laugh through his nose.

“So, you and Nikki coming to the party tonight?”

Her name hits my chest and I want to wrap it up and protect it. Swallow it. Own it.

I shrug.

“Maybe.” I actually forgot about the stupid baseball house party. And I’m not sure I want to define my relationship with Nikki in front of a bunch of drunk athletes looking to get laid. Especially this one.

“Well, I invited her. Hope she’ll come.” He smirks as he gets to his feet.

My glare drills through his skull as he walks away. Before he leaves, he tosses out, “Nice walks today.”

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