Page 25 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

I pop my mouth open but stop short of speaking actual words.

Be nice.

I sit back instead, comfortable enough in my own knowledge that Alicia has never actually seen him play.

The inning ends with a line drive to Alex that he catches with ease then tosses to our second baseman as they jog off the field. I hold my breath for the next test. I noticed Alex is slotted to bat sixth, which isn’t the usual lead-off he’s used to. I’m sure it’s to take pressure off of him, but also, I know Alex. This move does nothing but add to his pressure, his feeling of failure.

“Come on, Alex,” I mutter quietly.

“You come to a lot of games?” the girl next to me asks.

I meet her gaze, skepticism in my eyes. She’s being friendly, I remind myself.

“Quite a few,” I say. All of them.

“This is my first one. I’m so excited. Alicia used to date him, number five?” She points to Alex who is taking warm-up swings just outside the dugout.

“Is that right? Wow, lucky girl,” I say, doing my best to mask my natural sarcasm.

“I think they still like each other,” she says, leaning over and whispering to me.

I nod and hold my mouth in the ah position while the jealousy soup boils in my gut. Thankfully, our first batter is announced, so I turn my focus back to the field and finger the strings of my hoodie while I mentally debate putting up my fleece forcefield.

Edwin is DHing, which Alex expected. He’s also in the four-hole, which I guess he’s earned. The guy can hit. But seeing his name loom large has got to be getting into Alex’s head.

Our lead-off hitter walks, and our number two, Cole, gets hit by a pitch.

“Oww!” my seatmate says, cupping her mouth. I’ll give her this, at least she’s really watching. Alicia and her friend right next to her are scrolling through socials.

“They get hit a lot. They can take it,” I say, feeling like educating her a little.

“Really? They don’t have pads?”

I chuckle.

“No, they aren’t like hockey or football players.”

She nods, her face serious. Oh boy.

Our third batter gets on with a single, loading the bases for Edwin. When the announcer introduces him, the stadium roars with anticipation, partly because the bases are juiced and part due to the hype that Edwin comes with. He was pretty flashy in high school. Let’s see if that translates to college pitching.

The first pitch comes in at ninety-nine (thank you, speed gun guy). Edwin swings through it like he’s wielding a sword and merely tops the ball, sending it foul. The guys in the dugout grow rowdy, Alex joining them as they chirp and try to get into the pitcher’s head. It’s effective, as the next pitch is in the dirt.

My thumbnail finds its way between my teeth, and I’m not sure whether I’m rooting for Edwin to fail or succeed right now. It becomes abundantly clear, though, as the next pitch comes in, and he sends it screaming over the left field scoreboard. Everyone—Alicia included—gets to their feet, cheering. But I’m glued in place, my focus on Alex as he does his best to rally for his team, to congratulate the guy he sees as a threat. And now he has to clear his head and wait his turn.

“That was amazing!” the girl next to me says.

“Mmm, it was,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Do you know him?” She nods to the field where everyone is patting Edwin on the helmet.

“Not really,” I say. “I’m friends with Alex.”

She shifts in her seat, twisting and dropping her sunglasses down her nose as if she didn’t see me fully before.

“You,” she says, waggling her finger at me. “You must be Nikki.”

“I am, indeed,” I say with a tight-lipped smile.

---