Page 62 of Rival Summer

"Thank God," I exhaled, feeling the tension drain away from my shoulders.

The next batter stepped up and got on base, driving Boston past third and in to score. After a pitching change, the other team got out of the inning with a double play, but the damage had been done.

"We got this!" I yelled as the teams switched. Our team was a wall—they let one batter on base, but gave them no chance after that. No runs scored, and since we were already ahead, we wouldn’t have to bat again in the bottom of the ninth.

"Out! That's the game!" The final call rang out, and the field was suddenly a blur of motion. Players rushed onto the diamond, high-fiving and cheering.

"Great game!" I shouted, jumping up and down the bleachers. All I wanted was to find Boston, but Parker was closest, and I threw my arms around him first.

"Amazing job, Park!"

"Thanks, sis!" he beamed, ruffling my hair.

Then Boston was there, turning from another congratulatory embrace. I caught his eye, and something passed between us—a current, a spark.

"Congrats! You killed it," I said, my voice somehow both loud and intimate.

"Thank you," Boston replied. And then, to my surprise, he swept me up into a spin. His strength was effortless, his laughter genuine, and for a moment, the world whirled away until he set me back on my feet, my heart racing for reasons beyond excitement from the game.

The rest of the Blue Devils merged on the field after the postgame handshake. Amidst the chaos, I locked eyes with Reese, who was wiping sweat from his brow with a nonchalance that only he could pull off after such a heated game. "Nice moves out there," I called out to him.

Reese shot back his infamous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth before he sent a wink in my direction.

Crew and Bailey jumped in the air and bumped bodies. Bailey, of course never one to be unnoticed, thrusted his fist into the air as he strutted past us, shouting triumphantly, "Fuck yeah! We're going out tonight and celebrating that shit!" His enthusiasm was contagious, spreading quickly through the team.

I couldn't help but laugh at Bailey's antics, sharing a look with Reese that said we were both in for whatever wild plans were unfolding. But then my attention was caught by a tender moment unfolding at the edge of the field. Willow wrapped her arms around her dad in a heartfelt embrace. He, a sternman throughout the tournament, softened under her touch, his face breaking into a genuine smile—one I hadn’t seen once this weekend.

A couple hours later, Willow and I were getting ready for the night in her suite.

"I love the lighting in this bathroom," Willow said, her hands a whirlwind of motion as she pulled items out of her bathroom bag.

"I know, it’s such a nice suite," I said, looking around at how much more room she had compared to the regular rooms.

"Okay, so the guys are still downstairs," she said, laying out an array of cosmetics on her vanity. "They're probably stuffing their faces with that third round of appetizers and making their way to the lobby bar."

"Sounds about right," I laughed.

"Which gives us ample time to transform into goddesses," Willow continued, picking up a mascara wand and gesturing for me to sit down.

"Or at least attempt to," I quipped, taking a seat and watching her work her magic.

"Hey, no self-deprecation on my watch," Willow scolded lightly, her hand steady as she worked on my lashes. "You’re going to knock it out of the park—have them all stunned."

"Thanks, Will," I whispered, thankful for her unwavering confidence.

"Speaking of knocking it out of the park," Willow segued, a grin spreading across her lips, "I told my dad to have the center fielder stay more toward left field anytime number 3 on the other team went to bat."

"And?" I prompted, my curiosity piqued as I opened my eyes to see her beaming.

"He said I was spot on," she exclaimed. "He said I was his kid after all. They got him out every time."

"Seriously, Will," I said, leaning back as she finally set the mascara wand aside, "you're going to be the best coach ever. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I know. It's just getting other people to see that," she said, tilting her head.

"Trust me," I reassured, giving her a warm smile, "they will."

"Anyway," she shifted gears, delving into the depths of her suitcase. "I have the perfect outfit for you tonight. If you're planning to lose that V-card, you need to look hot." With a huge grin, she pulled out a black minidress, with a daring stomach cutout.

---