Page 29 of Rival Summer

Willow shot me an exaggerated thumbs-up behind Boston's back as we headed toward the door. As he held it open for me, our fingers brushed fleetingly. I’d never been more aware of his slightest touch.

The laughter from Reese's party dissipated behind us as we stepped outside. The street was quiet as Boston walked beside me, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

"Thanks for the escape," he said, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Anytime," I replied, flashing him a slight smile.

We began our walk to Willow’s, familiar butterflies stirring in my stomach—the same feeling from childhood games of hide-and-seek when I'd run breathlessly from him, hoping he’d find me. But now, under the streetlights, the fluttering felt different, more intense.

I stole a glance at him, trying to pinpoint everything about him that had changed. I was frustrated by his retreat from everyone this past year, including me. He hadn't responded to any of my messages, and I worried endlessly. But now, seeing him here, I realized that maybe it wasn't all bad. He had focused on himself, on baseball, on working out.

And it was... pretty hot, honestly. The way the fabric of his shirt strained across the muscles on his arm, hinting at the definition beneath, the veins standing out along his arms—strong and pronounced. He seemed so different in just a year—stronger, not just physically, but like he’d grown up. Maybe faster than he’d wanted to.

"You’ve been working out a little, huh?" I couldn't resist teasing because it was obvious.

"Something like that," he said with a shrug, as if it was nothing. As if all the hours of sweat and discipline didn't show in every new line on his body. "Gotta stay ahead if I want to make it anywhere."

I nodded. "Baseball or bodybuilding, Boston?” I teased.

"Maybe both. Just happy to provide you with some eye candy," he winked.

"Modesty suits you." I shook my head but secretly loved that he was showing hints of the playful Boston I was used to. It felt like old times, but also new and somehow completely different.

"Never been my strong suit," he admitted with a chuckle, the sound warm and familiar, sending shivers down my spine.

“No, it hasn’t.”

"I don’t know, I guess working out just passed the time," he said with a casual smirk, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Passed the time?" I asked. "Most people play video games or binge-watch TV shows, but sure, turning into a Greek god works too."

"Hey, if you've got a better way to release some of this built-up tension, I'm all ears," he shot back, blue eyes sparkling with a challenge that sent another flutter through me.

"Knitting is very therapeutic," I joked, before breaking into a smile. "I have absolutely no idea what else could help release tension," I said sarcastically.

We continued toward Willow's house, the night air filled with our shared laughter and the unspoken recognition of something shifting between us—something new and a little bit scary; the unknown we were inching towards, one step at a time.

A softness settled over us as our laughter died down. But there was something else I needed to address—a concern that I’d wanted to talk to him about for a while.

I hesitated, then took a breath. "How are things with your mom?" My voice was softer now, tentative.

He glanced away, his jaw tightening just enough to betray a hint of the emotions he guarded so closely. "I mean, they're okay," he started, and let out a breath. "She didn't come to the first game, but she mentioned she might try for the others."

"Really?" I prodded gently, encouraging him to continue.

"Yeah," he sighed. "She called me the other day. Said she wants to reach out to Reese, see if he'll meet with her. So I guess we'll see how that goes." There was a hint of skepticism in his tone.

"Wow," I whispered. "That's a tough one."

Boston nodded, then gave a small shrug. "I don't blame him if he doesn't want to talk to her. Even though he and I have our differences, I think... I think she should have tried harder, you know?"

I reached out, my fingers brushing his forearm. He tensed under my touch before relaxing again.

"She’s trying now, though. That’s something," I said softly, meeting his gaze. There was more hurt behind those beautiful eyes than I’d realized.

"I guess." He let out a long sigh before continuing. "You know what the hardest part is? My mom hasn't asked me once how I'm doing. She just assumes that I'm okay."

"Assumes?" I echoed, my frown deepening. How could anyone assume that about Boston lately? His light had dimmed. It was obvious to anyone who cared enough to look.

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