Page 66 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

Alex makes the slow trot to first, his fist pumping as his team pours out of the dugout and rushes to home plate. Every run that comes in earns a “boom!” from the squad, but it’s Alex’s trip down the third base line that causes a frenzy throughout the stadium. By the time he stomps on home, he’s swallowed up by his team, buried under bodies then quickly hoisted on shoulders and rushed to the middle of the infield.

I cup my mouth, my massive grin sticking out on either side of my hand.

“That was fucking amazing,” Omar says, showing me his phone. I didn’t even know he was recording.

“Send that to me!” I clutch at his arm.

“Nik, I’m sending that to everybody! This puppy is going viral.”

I ditch my friend while he types on his phone to keep his word and rush down to the gate next to the Tiff dugout. My nervous hands flounder around the latch, and I’m about to climb my ass over the backstop to get to Alex when a woman I recognize as Cole’s mom steps forward and helps me out.

“Thanks,” I say through a toothy grin. She laughs and ushers me through, shouting, “Go celebrate!”

Alex is still engulfed by his teammates, a few of them drenching him in the team Gatorade while others pour on buckets of gum and seeds. He laughs through the rain of junk, then our eyes meet and he literally shoves his friends out of the way to rush toward me.

I leap at him, wrapping my legs around him and clutching his face as our mouths crash. I kiss him hard and boastfully as he holds me tight, one hand under my body and the other in my hair, holding my head to his. We smile through it but never let up as he turns us slowly, messing up the dirt on the mound while he claims my mouth as his trophy—me as his prize.

When he finally sets my feet back down on the dirt, I leave my arms locked around him, my fingers stretching to hook together under his opposite arm as I remain glued to his side while people assail him with shoulder smacks and compliments. I won’t let go through the madness, just like I won’t let go through the quiet. I’m here for him. Always.

“You see my dad?” Alex asks, his lips at my ear.

I nod and shift my gaze over to the area where he was sitting. His seat is now empty. The man is gone. But he was here. He was here through it all.

“He must have left after your home run,” I say.

“He did,” Alex says, but it isn’t a disappointed response at all. “He saw the important part. And we’ve talked enough for today.”

I nod, then pull up to kiss him again, my palm flattening on his cheek.

I wrap my hands around his bicep and wait with him while he talks to the local and student reporters now out on the field. I look out toward the parking lot where the familiar lifted pickup is pulling onto the main road, and I smile.

That fucker didn’t uncross his arms a single time. Not superstitious my ass!

20

alex

Nikki’s knee knocks into mine at a regular pace. I don’t dare tell her to relax because, one, she hates that, and two, she has every right to let out her nerves. This is terrifying for her.

“I’m so hungry,” she whines, the clipboard on her thighs vibrating with her constant movement. I bite my tongue and don’t tell her to stop wasting calories fidgeting. Now is not the time.

“I’ve got a great lunch spot for us,” I say, resting my hand on her knee. I subtly slow the movement, but she gives me side eyes.

“Sorry,” I whisper, squeezing once then pulling my hand away.

“I don’t have time for lunch,” she says.

I chuckle.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to miss accounting. I’ll help you with your assignment.” Her head swivels, and she hits me with a short-lived but honest grin. It slips back to the focused straight line, but it’s still in there.

Nikki had to fast for this appointment. She’s not great at being hangry, as we call it. That’s the other reason I’m doing my best not to poke the bear.

I think she’s really going to like this place I found for lunch. This location comes with an ulterior motive, but a good one. I remember eating there with my parents once when they came up for the weekend to visit. It was the before time, when our family unit was cohesive and we all got along, for the most part. There was this woman who played guitar in the corner, singer-songwriter type music. She was really talented, but she was also legally deaf. My mom has no problem talking to strangers, and she basically pulled the girl’s life story out of her. It stuck with me because of her perseverance, having lost most of her hearing after a long battle with meningitis in high school. I called ahead to see if she was still there, and with some luck, she happens to be today.

“Miss Thomas?” Nikki looks at me first, a flash of panic in her eyes. I think if I weren’t here she might sit here silent and wait for them to go searching for her so she can slip out unnoticed and go home.

“I’m right here,” I assure her. If I could get in that scan with her, I would.

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