Page 7 of Honeysuckle
“Can you at least make noise when you walk?” I grumbled and looked over my shoulder at him. He was palming the baseball in his hand, and his eyes focused on the spinning laces as he moved it around. I hated his fucking face. His pensive gray eyes and tight jaw were always watching everyone. He reminded me of an owl; he was always around, but half the time, he was so quiet that no one even knew they were being observed.
And his dumb head was always on a swivel.
“I’ll get a bell,” he said quietly.
“I’m not here to make friends,” I retorted, ignoring his dumb joke.
“Josh,” he said as he stepped forward, “that’s exactly why you’re here.”
“I’m here to play baseball.” I dug my heels into the grass beneath my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets.
“If you want a place on this team, a chance to finish your degree... you have to play nice. It was the only condition,” Silas said.
“Yeah, I know, Shore. I don’t need reminding that my stay here has an expiry date,” I snapped.
“It’s not an expiry date, it’s an opportunity.”
“It’s a guilt-ridden bribe to keep my mouth shut,” I corrected him. The anger I carried around bubbled up without warning.
“You know that’s not true. If you want to go public, we do it,” Silas said it like he actually meant it, and that terrified me.
If you want to go public.
“Fuck you. And your dad,” I spat. “I’ll pitch the season and be gone before anyone has to worry about me ruining their lives. Just leave me the fuck alone, Shore.”
“Alright,” he said, still watching me. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Why do you all think I need something from you?” I asked him as he started to walk away.
“‘Cause everyone needs something, Josh,” he said. “You’re just too angry to ask for it.”
I was angry for a reason. I hated this fucking team. I hated Silas Shore, and I hated his dad even more.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said without turning back to me. He wandered toward the mess hall and disappeared inside.
The thought of being locked inside with them was suffocating.
They were so happy.
A few more stragglers crossed the grass into the hall, and I followed them close enough to hear them talking about the upcoming season. Selfishly, I wanted them to gossip about me so that I could start something, but it was like they didn’t even notice I was there.
Inside, the hall looked like something out of an eighties camp thriller, which is precisely what it felt like to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a team that hated every piece of DNA inside me.
“I’m Ella.”
I looked to my left to see King’s girlfriend standing in front of me with her hand extended. She was tall and clearly athletic, but a jarring scar cut her delicate features in half.
“It’s from a car accident,” she said when she noticed me staring.
“I know who you are. You broke my nose,” I said in a grumble, without removing my hands from my pockets.
“You insulted my fiancé,” she quipped.
“Touché,” I nodded. “What is it that you want, Ella?”
“I came over to offer you a spot at our table,” she said.
“I’m good. I’ll just go—” I pointed to an empty table.
