Page 73 of How We Fooled

“Eli …” she cries harder. “How could we be so dumb? We got caught!”

“No. We didn’t get caught. Caught is everyone finding out. This is only Maya. It will be fine.”

“You can’t say that when you don’t know!”

She’s starting to panic, and a different type of worry washes over me.

“Please don’t drive when you’re crying like this. Please pull over so you don’t cause an accident. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“But it already has!”

“How?”

“Because I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, and now, my entire life is going to be over.”

“Stop saying that. It’s not. You have to have faith.”

“Faith is hard when the world around us is literally tearing us apart,” she says barely above a whisper.

“Life is just testing us. That’s it. We’ll get through this.”

“If she tells anyone?—”

“She won’t. Please, you have to trust me. Everything will be okay.”

She’s silent, and I’m at a loss for any other words I could possibly tell her to convince her that it’s going to be okay.

“I have to go …” She hangs up, and my eyes close with pain and worry.

I hit the steering wheel and yell, “Fuck!” at the top of my lungs, needing to get out frustration before I take it out on the road and cause an accident myself.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Eli

Today should have been one of the best days of my life, but instead, it’s plagued with the unknown of what happened yesterday at the mall.

When I got home last night, I was reminded that we were meeting with Steve, an agent who is looking to represent me should I choose to enter the MLB draft this summer. The guy flew in from New York just to see me. It couldn’t have been worse timing, but I put on my happy face and faked my way through the entire meeting.

I must have put on one hell of an act because he wants to take me on as a client and says I have a good shot of getting drafted just by the buzz he’s already heard around me.

I’ve always dreamed of playing sports in college, but COVID really did a number on college athletics with players getting longer eligibility. Then, the NCAA changed the rules of players being able to enter themselves into the transfer portal, which makes it even harder for a player out of high school to get picked up anymore. I’ve heard college coaches ask why they should take a freshman when they could take a junior from the portal.

My coaches have said I have nothing to worry about with my size setting me apart from everyone else, but as of right now, I’ve had coaches talk to me for both baseball and football. No official offers though.

I was honestly waiting to see if that would help me make up my mind—seeing which sport I’d get an offer for to play first.

After Liza pointed my sticker out though, I’ve really thought about what it would mean to play football versus baseball. I love football because I play with Dalton, Ben, and Marcus. They are what make me love it, not the actual game. Baseball is the only sport I’ve done without them, playing for the national team, and I absolutely love it. No one else even wanted to try out, whereas, for me, it felt like a no-brainer.

I know without a doubt if I do play football in college, those guys won’t be there. Dalton is supposed to go to Stanford—because his dad is making him, not necessarily because he wants to—and I don’t think Ben wants to play at all. Marcus has a shot to continue, but the odds of us getting signed by the same school are pretty slim.

So, would I enjoy it without them?

When this agent reached out, I tried not to get my hopes up, but now that we’ve had this meeting, I’m even more excited. I could skip college and go straight to the MLB.

Now that he’s gone, I can’t wait to tell Liza. Secretly, I’m hoping this could be the good news we need to get us past last night.

She hasn’t responded to my text messages from last night and then this morning, so I grab my keys, wanting to head out to take a drive and give her a call.

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