Page 48 of The Trouble with Players

“Do you need my glove?” the little kid asked me.

“What for?” I asked.

“To catch his homer,” he explained.

I balked. “You really think he knows where he’s hitting that ball?”

“Oh yeah. He’s awesome,” the kid assured me.

“If you only knew,” I mumbled.

The inning ended, and Gina handed me the ball she’d taken from the kid. Did Crew really think sending a kid to ask me out would work? He probably wasn’t even serious. He probably just wanted to get a rise out of me.

The Sharks were up to bat at the top of the sixth, and Crew stepped up to the plate. That son of a bitch hit the first pitch—a home run to the right field bleachers. Luckily, the little leaguers had gloves, and one of them caught the ball. As Crew rounded first base, his eyes were on us. I wanted to stand up and remind him about his coach’s speech. How he appreciated Crew not prancing around the bases when he hit a home run. Because, at the moment, he was very much gloating as he stared my way and trotted around the bases.

“Can you even believe the nerve of him?” I asked Gina as we drove home after the game.

“It was pretty ballsy,” she laughed. “He clearly likes you.”

“Likes annoying me,” I said, drinking my newly-filled cocktail in my tumbler.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing if you two went out.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Peyton, no one said you had to marry him.”

“I’m definitely not manifesting that like you.”

“Shut up,” she laughed. “Just hear me out. Summer’s going to end. He’s gonna head back to school and so are you.”

“The same school,” I reminded her.

“It’s a big school,” she reminded me. “You never have to see him again if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to see him now.”

“You’re such a liar.”

I grunted.

“He’s hot, and I bet he knows what he’s doing under the sheets,” Gina said.

“Did you seriously just say under the sheets?”

She laughed. “I did.”

“It’s not like it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve slept in the same bed,” I said.

All of a sudden, Gina lurched the car to the right and we swerved off the road. I grasped for something to hold onto as Gina slammed the gear into park, then twisted to look at me. “What?”

I shrugged, not really sure what else to say now that my heart was lodged in my throat and my anxiety had shot through the roof.

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” she nearly cried.

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “Peyton. Why haven’t you told me?”

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