Page 67 of Diamond Ring
“Stay. I mean, you don’t have to go yet.” Though it’s late and Jake has a start he needs to prepare for.
Alex shakes his head slightly. “Don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed.”
“I know. That’s kind of the problem. If this is it, then this is it.”
“Wait—” Jake begins, and Alex gives him a look like he might argue until he continues. “For the game, you should wear my necklace.”
“Don’t think a big-ass Magen David really goes with catcher’s gear.” Alex saysMagenthe right way, like he remembered from years ago.
“I meant the Phiten one. And my necklace isn’t that big.”
“Yeah”—Alex pats him on the cheek—“it kind of is. I thought you weren’t superstitious.”
“I could use some luck for once.”
Alex looks a little sad as he smiles. “Maybe we both could.” And he slides into the hallway.
After, Jake stands there, breathing through it, until his washer buzzes and he has to shove wet fabric into his dryer like regret.
Chapter Seventeen
April
Alex
Game prep the day of Jake’s start isfine. Jake posts up in a chair, then scoots it closer to Alex’s stall. Alex focuses on the various stats and charts and heat maps and nothing else. Definitely not the marks that haven’t faded from Jake’s neck that guys have been giving Jake shit about. Alex tightens his grip on his tablet and tries for a similar one on his sanity.
He left Jake’s three days ago. Somewhere between his apartment door and lobby, the rush of endorphins wore off.This is it. A self-protective thought. He spent the ride back to his apartment with his face pressed against the window of an Uber, eyes clenched shut.
He needs to focus, to not let this stuff get to him, or at least not let anyone else know that it is. Because Jake has to pitch in a few hours and Alex has to tell him what to pitch, and he’s not sure what’s going to happen.
He’s so busy focusing that he’s interrupted when Jake taps the screen of the tablet Alex is holding. “You’re good with that?” Like Jake’s asking for the second time.
Alex wasn’t listening, but he’s sure it’s fine. If it’s not fine, it’ll just mean either fucking up in front of thirty thousand people or arguing with Jake about it. “Uh-huh.”
“So you’d go changeup?” Jake asks.
“Sure.”
Another tap. “Before I said fastball. Which is it?”
“What?”
“Alex...” Where most guys would call himAngelidesand mangle his name. Jake’s looking at him like he’s expecting an answer to his fastball-or-changeup question when the real question is if Jake could wash that night out like it was a load of laundry. If Alex waited ten years and Jake was done with him in a matter of hours.
He’s about to say that he could use a break when Todd comes in. If their teammates’ chirping Jake is bad, Todd is worse, all personalized greetings and elaborate high-fives as he moves through the clubhouse. Even Charlie gives him a wave and a mumbled hello.
Todd makes his way over to them, with a robust “What’s up, fellas?” that makes Alex slump further in his chair.
Jake manages aheythat’s somehow both cheerful and dismissive.
Todd ignores the hint. “Doing a little game planning?”
Jake holds up a tablet as if to prove he isn’t goofing off. “Yep.”
“Good, good.” Then, with a lowered voice sure to attract attention in a clubhouse, “You all have some time for me?”
