Page 110 of Caught Stealing

“Leave it for the dunce.”

Thirty

Holden

March

“This place is nice,” Harrison mutters as we leave the main concourse of St. Sebastian University’sbaseball stadium to find our seats in the outfield.

It wasn’t hard to convince him, Noah, and Luca, to drive down to Nashville with me so we can support Leighton’s baseball team in their duel against St. Seb’sthis weekend. In fact, they were more than happy to make the trip; though I think most of their eagerness was due to the nearly seventy-degree weather promised the next two days, which is way better than the frigid, windy tundra Chicago is in near the end of March.

But I also think, after spending so much time with Theo, Wyatt, and Phoenix on our trip to Florida, they’ve become sorta tight with the guys. Not the way Theo and I are as roommates or Phoenix and I are as…whatever we are. Enough to consider them friends, in any case.

“Makes you wonder what their football stadium looks like,” I muse, my eyes catching on the view of downtown Nashville off to my left as we climb the stands to our seats.

I chose left-center for the four of us, seeing as those are the ones closest to where Phoenix plays. I’d have preferred seats directly behind him—mainly to have an excuse for staring at his ass the entire time—but the damn scoreboard ruined that little plan.

Plus, Theo and Wyatt both play on this side of the field too. At least, that’s what my Google search of baseball positions told me when I did my best to brush up my limited knowledge on the sport.

“I think I see them, but I can’t tell. None of their jerseys have names on the back like ours,” Noah says, shielding his eyes from the sun as he squints out at the field. “You said Theo plays…where?”

“Shortstop,” Harrison pipes up before his lips draw down in a frown. “I think.”

“Wait, which one is that?” Noah asks.

“The one next to Wyatt at third base,” Luca says, pointing to the position where Theo is currently scooping up balls from the ground and throwing them across the field to the guy at first.

Noah’s nose wrinkles. “That’s stupid. Everyone else’s position is called whatever base they’re next to. He should be second base.”

Luca’s brows furrow. “There’s already a second baseman on the other side of the bag.”

“So? Why can’t there be two? There are two wide receivers on the football field at the same time.”

“Sometimes I swear you don’t think about the words that come out of your mouth before you speak,” Luca says with an eye roll.

Maybe this wasn’t as good of an idea as I thought it was.

Luca’s the only one of us with a clear understanding of baseball, the rest of us having limited knowledge from way back in our tee-ball days. But pair Luca’s competence with Noah’s endless questions, and Harrison and I might be in for a whole afternoon of listening to the two of them bicker back and forth.

Yeah, definitely didn’t think this through.

“Oh, hey,” Harrison says, leaning forward in his seat. “I think that’s Phoenix.”

My heart lurches at his name, and I’m starting to see I really am fucked when it comes to this guy. Head over heels, nothing-and-no-one-compares level fucked.

All it takes is one glance; even at a distance, I know it’s him. I’d know that sinful, uniform-clad body anywhere. But the twenty-one on his back is also a dead giveaway, as it matches the jerseyI’mcurrently wearing.

I pat Noah on the shoulder and rise out of my seat. “I’m gonna leave you to debate the inner workings of baseball and go talk to Nix for a minute.”

Noah and Luca don’t even hear me while they continue bickering, but I catch Harrison shooting a glare my way. “You’re an asshole for leaving me alone with them.”

I don’t bother responding and instead give him my brightest smile before heading down the stands. They only go so far into centerfield, so Phoenix is still a good twenty yards away when I reach the corner closest to him and lean against the padding on top of the wall.

“Hey, Mercer!” I shout, not knowing any better way to get his attention. “Get your ass over here!”

Phoenix turns around the second he catches the ball his right fielder just threw him, and I watch as he squints at the stands.

“Holden?” he calls out, and I hear the uncertainty in his tone.

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