Page 59 of The Third Baseman

I’d never met anyone like her before. She was so open and genuine, and interested; genuinely interested inmeinstead of the social standing I came with. She was interested in learning about baseball; about why I’d fallen in love with baseball. I’d never talked so much to a girl in my life outside of my family, and she was asking questions no one had ever asked. She wanted to learn about the draft, about what I would do if I got picked by a team before The Dodgers. And she tried to explain to me about astrodynamics, but mostly I watched her mouth move and the way her top lip deepened to create a perfect line of symmetry down her face. Then she told me everything she knew about Jupiter, and I vowed to pay attention to every single word she uttered.

One time we went to the library; I had English homework, and she’d had trigonometry. I hated math, yet found myself captivated by the way she explained it to me like it was the easiest subject in the world.

She was two years younger than me, and I’d wonder, again, how I’d managed to convince this incredible girl that I was a guy worth spending time with.

We hadn’t discussed what was happening.

I hadn’t asked her to be my girlfriend.

Between baseball practice, games, and studying, save a few rare moments in the Sports Building where she’d shoot me in the chest with one of her perfect smiles and renew my energy for the day, our paths never crossed, so I’d never been asked by anyone if I was dating Marnie Matthews. Even Jenson had assumed she was a friend of Emerson’s the first few times I gave her a ride to school

Until he saw me kiss her goodbye.

Then he just smirked, patted me on the back with a ‘nice’, and we’d taken off for practice where he’d eventually forgotten about whatever it was he’d planned to ask me.

A month in, and still no one had asked, so this time right now at family pizza night was the first time I’d really contemplated the answer to that question.

Was Marnie Matthews my girlfriend?

I tried to imagine what she’d say if I asked her. The thought of her saying no made it feel like the Meat Feast I’d been eating was about to come right up.

Maybethatwas my answer.

Yes. As far as I was concerned, yes, Marnie Matthews was my girlfriend. I just needed confirmation from her before I announced it more widely. I’d never been shot down before and I didn’t intend to start now, but there was no harm in being cautious.

“Well, sweetheart?”

My eyes flicked from Emerson to my dad, then finally to my mom. I sighed, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno. I haven’t talked to her about it.”

“She gets a ride with us nearly every day to school,” Emerson smirked before stuffing more pizza in her mouth.

“Fuck’s sake, Emerson. Can you keep your big mouth shut for once? And might I remind you it was your idea in the first place to give her a ride?”

She grinned as my mom tutted, then pointed to the swear jar.

“I’m not putting anything in there for being baited.”

“Emerson, knock it off.” My dad frowned at her, which was unusual in itself. He was wrapped around her pinkie, and she knew she’d never get any kind of actual punishment. “Jupiter, you could have told us.”

“There wasn’t anything to tell. We’ve just been hanging out, I didn’t think it would be front page news or anything,” I grumbled.

“Could we get a name, at least?” Mom begged.

I still hadn’t gotten used to the kneejerk reaction I had to smile whenever I thought of Marnie, or the way my heart pumped harder. It was pointless trying to hide it now. “Her name’s Marnie. Marnie Matthews.”

My mom and dad gave each other one of those looks, then my mom turned back to me. “As in Noah and Bryony’s daughter? The Matthews’ next door?”

I nodded. I hadn’t met her parents yet, but I knew their names. “Yes.”

The smile on my mom’s face dropped a little and her whole body turned toward me. “How old is she?”

I took another bite of my pizza and swallowed it down, ignoring the slight clenching in my chest. “She’s nearly seventeen.”

“Jupiter, you’re eighteen. That’s a big gap at your ages. Please tell me you’re being careful.”

I scowled at Emerson making puking gestures at the other end of the table and focused back on my mom, who now had that look all moms get. “Jeez, mom, yes! God! It’s not like that, anyway.”

Emerson slurped her soda loudly. “Ainsley is going to be crushed.”

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