Page 35 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

When the clubhouse door shuts I throw my duffel at my cubby so hard I might have cracked my phone inside.

“Fuck him!” I let out, having enough sense to know that the only guys left in here understand where I’m coming from.

Brayden’s good. And he’s liked because he’s good, and he has a house that his parents bought for him and he rents out to share with other players. They basically bought him friends. What the hell Nikki ever saw in him beats me.

I plop down and rest my elbows on my knees so I can rub my temples and stare at the concrete floor.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you. You know it’s all about Nikki and his fragile ego. Just . . . let it go,” Cole says, resting his foot next to me while he finishes pulling the tape from his wrist.

I glance up, my eyes feeling the weight of all these things I don’t know how to verbalize; the biggest one is the question burning a hole through my insides—am I going to do something to lose Nikki?

“I know. It’s mostly my mental game, and I really wanted to come away from today with hits.” That part’s true, and it’s very much the anchor pulling me down to the depths of frustration.

“The hits will come. They always do.” He sounds so much like my dad with that response that I laugh, but for the moment, it works to pull me out of my pity party.

“You going to this thing tonight?” I ask him as we walk out together.

He shrugs, but I know him. He’ll be there if the volleyball team shows up. He’s in love with no less than five of the players. And given that Cutter never likes to miss a party and is dating the queen of volleyball, the odds are high.

“Alright, well, I’ll see ya, man,” I say, and he chuckles as we grasp hands.

“Yeah, you probably will. Hey, Nik,” he says with a nod over my shoulder.

A tornado takes over my insides, roaring up my esophagus and closing off my lungs. How can I be so excited to see her and so afraid at the same time? I turn around and breathe in, forcing the tight smile that seems to be my go-to today. Omar’s with her, and another guy. I wonder if that’s the lacrosse player he’s been crushing on for weeks.

“Where will we see him?” Nikki asks, her hand planting on my bicep as she steps up on her toes and moves to kiss me.

I give her my cheek. I give her my fucking cheek!

The hurt is apparent in her eyes as soon as she flattens to her feet and lets her hand drop back down into her pocket. I’ve already fucked this up. It’s just, we haven’t talked about it.

“Party at the baseball house, but I don’t know if I’m up for it,” I say, looking down the walkway that leads to the parking lot because I can’t seem to get myself to look at her. I think I’m actually scared. Shit, I’m terrified.

“Right, well. I’m going, so I’ll either see you there or I won’t,” she says.

I know that tone, and it snaps me out of my own shit in time to watch her start to walk away.

“We’ll, uh, we’re gonna go grab some food. I’ll let you two—” Omar brings his shoulders up and flattens his mouth.

“Yeah, sorry. I think maybe I fucked up. I’ll fix it,” I say.

“You always do,” he says, and I think there’s a subtle dig in there, which I probably deserve. I’ll need to unpack that some other time. Right now, I need to go save the burning embers of my bond with the most important person in my life.

“Sorry, man. I’m . . .” I hold out my hand for Omar’s companion.

We shake.

“Brian. Nice to meet you. We can chat more next time,” he says, nodding toward the pissed off brunette pounding pavement as fast as she can to get away from me.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Again, sorry.”

I nod to them both, then swing my bag over my shoulder as I shift into a jog.

“Nik, wait up!”

Her hands are balled into fists at her sides. This is exactly what I was afraid of! Changing our relationship had these risks.

“Hey, I’m running. Seriously, wait!”

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