Page 51 of Nothing Like the Movies

Hewas.

The way his face went blank and intense, all at once, just before he let loose with a throw that was violent in its speed, slapping into the glove with brute force, yet incredibly nuanced in its pinpoint accuracy.

His long, lean arm, fully extended on release.

The kick of his leg as he fired the ball.

The rushing exhale of his breath when he let it fly.

I was on my knees, on my stomach, on my tiptoes, and on thestepladder; he was giving me every shot I wanted and making me greedy for better angles. Circling like a planet in orbit as I needed more, more, more. Even after he finished pitching, I filmed him playing catch with Mick and Wade, my camera now fully obsessed with his left hand and its relationship with the baseball.

“Think we got enough?”

“Huh?” I lowered the video camera and was shocked to see Clark—or anyone, for that matter—beside me in the dugout. I’d been so sucked into the balletlike mechanics of that ball and its journey from Wes’s hand to the sweet spot of the bat, that everything else in the world had ceased to exist.

“You are in the zone, Bux,” he said, shaking his head. “You usually only give me that stupid stare when you’re doing music.”

“I, uh,” I said, for some reason out of breath and still not quite there, “I was getting amazing vampire baseball footage.”

Because he was Clark, he knew exactly what that meant, and he squealed. “Yes! Supermassive Cullen family, fucking yes. This Reel is going to be amazing, bro.”

He was right—it would be. And as I listened to him go on about it, I got even more excited. Because I’d been able to forget—emotionally—about my history with Wes when he’d been pitching. The flashback from earlier that day was gone, nowhere to be found as I did my job.

I, Liz Buxbaum, could focus on Wes Bennett, the ace pitcher, and concentrate on the creative part of my job without falling apart.

He was just another random athlete at the university.

This wasn’t going to be a big deal at all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Oh my God, look at your face. You love her.”

—Prom Pact

Wes

I stepped under the showerhead, turning my face up and letting the hot water pour over me. I was one of the last guys there because I’d stayed late to talk to Ross after practice, so it was quiet in the locker room.

My muscles were sore, I was tired, yet I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this alive.

Becausepraise Jesus, after working my ass off over the weekend, I was back. I’d just spent an entire practice being Steady Freaking Eddie, as consistent as I’d ever been in my entire life. Pitching actually feltfunagain today, mostly because my dad’s voice hadn’t whispered a single syllable as I threw strike after strike.

I hadn’t wanted practice to end.

Especially when Liz was there the entire time, filming me.

Sure, Clark was around, but that dude was taking random pictures of everyone.

Liz, on the other hand, had been primarily focused on me.

I knew she was just doing her job, but anytime she was in my world, I was happier.

I got dressed and was almost ready to take off when I saw it.

The starting lineup.

The starting lineup for Saturday’s exhibition game was taped up by the door.

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