Page 100 of The Shake Off

Ace had become someone I texted on the regular, and not just in reply to him. Istartedtext messages. I’d laugh and tell him what Matty and Tyler had said about his latest game, or how The Mets had dropped down in the standings, and he’d reply with an update to his stats, or he’d call on the way to the game, and we’d FaceTime quickly while hetoldme his stats.

And he’d always finish with a, “See you later, Babycakes.”

In the last two weeks, Ace and I had become a ‘something’. I couldn’t explain it, I didn’t understand it… but I liked it.

And I didn’t know what to do about it.

Nathalie Cheung’s party was this weekend, and after that… I guess we’d go our separate ways.

A month ago, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Now though, I didn’t know how to feel about it.

I neither knew what to do, or how to feel.

It had turned into quite the problem.

So, yeah, I’d been late to the game because my level of concentration today had been exactly zero, and I’d needed to catch up on my notes from the editorial meeting I’d zoned out of. Ace had messaged saying he couldn’t wait to see me later, and I’d smiled so hard I’d had to get up and walk away before someone asked me what was wrong.

It was confusing, unbalancing, and thoroughly out of character.

My mind didn’t seem to be my own.

“Yeah, but she also likes to be near the action – though it’s probably just so she can be near Jupiter,” Lowe continued, not noticing I had yet to say anything as she nodded to the seats where Kit, Beulah, and Marnie were sitting. “Oh good, the girls already got the drinks in.”

I stopped at the end of the row, letting Lowe go ahead. While we currently had this section to ourselves, the rest of the stadium was filling up. All the fans I’d seen buy beers and Lions dogs were making their way to their seats. The announcers were coming in loud over the speakers, interspersed with the music blaring.

“The boys are about to come out,” Kit stood up, pulling me into a hug. “You haven’t missed the warmups.”

“Great,” I grinned, though I wasn’t sure I thought it was.

I usually loved the warmups. They were almost my favorite part, but I loved them from the safety of the boxwaybehind us, where you couldn’t be exposed for ogling. But in these seats? We were so close to the action there was no way I could hide. I could rest my feet on top of the dugout if I wanted.

Instead, I sunk into my seat and pulled my ball cap as low as possible, taking a large gulp of the beer Kit handed me.

“I thought you’d be wearing Ace’s shirt,” she whispered, giving me a little nudge.

I looked down at the Lions shirt I was wearing, theI Caught a Liont-shirt that Lowe’s team gifted to anyone who caught a home run ball. Safe to say I got one without making a catch, because I wasn’t about to hold my hand out to a ball hurtling toward me like an asteroid. With my luck, I’d miss and end up in the emergency room with a concussion and a broken nose.

“This is my Lions shirt. It’s the only one I have, and the only one I’ll ever wear.”

She sipped her beer and raised her eyebrow in response.

My eyes flicked back to the field as the announcers fired up again.

“Number five, Jupiter Reeves!”

Marnie stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly as Jupiter jogged out through the archway and onto the field. The cheering from the five of us was no match for the crowds behind us, and we were completely drowned out.

Jupiter had never been one to acknowledge the fans, or wave, or make any indication he loved the attention, he’d simply jog to the dugout every single time. But today he looked up at Marnie, grinned wide and mouthedI Love Youbefore he disappeared.

Marnie’s cheeks flushed pink, especially when the rest of us all giggled and sighed like we were a bunch of highschoolers.

“Jupiter’s sure changed,” Kit muttered.

Saint Velazquez was next, followed by Tanner, and Boomer Jones. As each player appeared, the thudding in my chest increased, becoming loud enough to be confused with a marching band.

The final announcement came soon, and if I’d thought the cheer had been deafening with Jupiter, it was nothing compared to the noise let out now, which rivaled a Taylor Swift concert.

“Number twenty-seven, Ace Watson!”

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