Page 57 of Pitcher

But I see the change.

Every day, I see you blossom into the woman your mother and grandparents would be proud of.

You are my biggest inspiration.

You are Katniss fucking Everdeen.

May you always remember what you mean to me.

Happy birthday, my love.

Theo

I cried for hours looking at those pictures. There wasn’t enough concealer in the drug store to cover up those bags. He made me a memory book. On those pages were pictures from when we were fourteen until just recently. He wants me to remember him when he leaves.

Somewhere between running alone and finding his exam on the counter made me realize something.

We failed.

Not in the sense of an exam but in our friendship. I failed him. He’s always been there for me, and no matter what happened last night, I let him down. Sure, he acted like a royal asshole, but I knew when I saw the coffee splattered in the sink this morning, he was sorry.

I don’t understand why we do this to each other. Why do we bury these feelings until they overflow and we can’t stop the explosion that spills out? I knew leaving with Rhys would piss Theo off, and if I’m being completely honest, I wanted to make him mad. He pissed me off too.

But being petty should not have been the answer. I opened a portal I knew he would jump through. He thinks I don’t see him giving his teammates a death glare every time they look in my direction, but I do. I see him. And after our night together, I thought things would change between us. But they didn’t. Everything went back to the way they were.

I was angry.

I was hurt.

I was heartbroken.

I was a fool.

All Theo and I have ever been is friends. I let my head poke through the clouds and try to ruin the friendship we had built over time. He’s not my boyfriend. I have no right to make him jealous. Okay, so I do a little. I’m the one who has dealt with his shit every day for the past eight years. Yes, me. Not Kim from the softball team or Rachael from Sigma Kappa Blah-Blah. It’s been me. All me. Von Bremen, whether he wants to admit or not, is mine. He was eight years ago, and he is now. Kim and Rachael are only distractions from the truth. He’s mine. He knows it. I know it. And I’m tired of this back and forth.

Thinking of the man purposely ignoring me on the sofa, I toss off my shirt, change into my sports bra and one of his old jerseys, and slide on some leggings. I know what we need, and right now, we need what brought us together in the first place.

Baseball.

In the hallway, I grab his bat bag and pull on his hat. I look the part, and when I drop the bag at my feet in the living room, his head snaps up, his eyes roaming all over my body. I see the need in his eyes.

“Get your shit, Von Bremen.”

He doesn’t say anything to my demand, but he quirks a brow and tamps down the almost smile he nearly lets loose.

What did I tell you? We need this.

“What if I’m not in the mood?” he taunts.

“What if I hit you with this bat for getting on my nerves more than necessary today?”

A slow smile tugs at the corner of his full, pouty lips, and it shoots straight to my heart, making me feel shittier for not talking to him this morning. We could have saved ourselves a shit-ton of stress today. But then I would have missed this smile, so I’m thinking it was worth it in some ways.

“You have two minutes to change before I leave without you.”

He acts casual as he pulls himself off the sofa like he doesn’t give a shit if I leave him or not. His cut forearms flex when he slides them into the front pocket of his jeans before stepping toe to toe with me.

“Do I have any clothes left to change into?” he murmurs with a victorious gleam in his eye.

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