Page 80 of Rival Summer

My irritation flared at Boston's words even though I knew he was right. "Maybe you should stop telling us all what to do and what's best for us."

"Whoa, calm down," Parker interjected, holding up a hand.

"Bro, don't you know never to tell a woman to calm down?" Boston fired back, shaking his head.

"That's not a woman, that's my sister," Parker quipped.

Willow, who had been quietly sipping her drink, suddenly choked on her laughter, spewing liquid across the table.

My eyes remained narrowed on Boston, unwilling to let go of the hurt I was feeling. I knew that I was the one who had made the decision, but I hadn’t expected him to agree—not for a second. "You know what? You two should get out of here," I said, bitterly.

Boston reached out, his hand hovering near my arm, but I jerked away. "No, Boston. Please just go." I deliberately turnedmy body away from him, directing my attention to the next performer on stage, signaling the end of the conversation.

"Let me know if you guys need anything," Boston said to Willow.

"We'll be fine," she assured him, giving me a sympathetic glance.

As Boston steered Parker towards the exit, Parker called out to Willow, "Good night, sunshine!"

"Get out of here before I throw you out myself!" Willow retorted with a laugh.

"You're a mad woman, and I love it!" Parker's declaration echoed as they disappeared into the crowd, leaving me sitting there, arms still crossed, frustration lingering.

The sounds of karaoke night faded into the background, the off-key notes blurring into the distance. I sat at the table, laughter and cheering feeling like they belonged to another world—one where hearts didn't break and disappointment wasn't so familiar. I convinced myself that I wouldn't—couldn't—fall for someone this summer, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, and here I was feeling like my heart was hardly even beating.

TWENTY-SIX

boston

Exhaustion had seepedinto my bones, the same kind that weeks of two-a-days plus game days did to me. Coach had been brutal with us lately, and even though we were on a winning streak, he hadn’t lightened up—not for a second. Muscles aching, I slid onto my bed and sent Chandler my habitual goodnight text. I'd barely seen her lately, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about her.

As soon as the message was sent my phone was ringing, and I was hardly able to keep my eyes to answer.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?"

"Boston, I know things have been... strained between us, but can you hear me out for a second?"

"Sure," I sighed, the weight of my exhaustion pulling me back against the pillows as I closed my eyes, bracing for whatever was coming.

"Every game this season, I let Reese know I'd be at Maria's Diner afterwards. Whether I could make it to the game in time from work or not, I'd go there, hoping he'd show up eventually." Her confession caught me off guard. “I know tomorrow is the championship, Boston. It's the last one, and I don't think he'llcome, which is okay, I get it. But... would you come sit with me after the game and wait with me? Maybe share a milkshake?"

Despite the frustration she sometimes inspired, I couldn’t say no to the vulnerability in her tone. "Yeah, Mom, I'll be there."

"Thank you, Boston. I'll see you then. Good luck tomorrow. I know you'll win."

"Thanks, Mom."

Morning came too early, my dream of playing in the World Series ruined by an unexpected soundtrack—Parker, singing some awful song. Groaning, I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the door, which creaked open just enough for me to squint at him.

"Why are you so happy? It's too early," I asked, barely able to keep my eyes open.

"Man, it's a good day!" Parker beamed. "It's championship day. We're bringing home the W, then it's all celebrations and no more stupid practice."

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms as a thought occurred to me. "And you sneaking someone out early this morning doesn’t have anything to do with your good mood? I swore I heard giggles and the front door close at like three a.m."

Parker's grin held steady, but a flicker in his eyes gave him away. "No, that was me," he insisted.

"Oh, you were giggling like a girl?" I raised an eyebrow, not buying it.

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