Page 86 of Wild Catch
“But—” Lucky waves his hands toward me. “My two thousand followers!”
Logan always wears a tight, purple undershirt under his team jersey, but even through the fabric I can see how tight his arm muscles are as he hauls the two clowns—er, the other players away. I shake my head. He’s such a dad.
But in a different way from Miguel Machado. He’s a daddy.
As in, he has a daughter. I think it’s so cute how one of the considerations for Miguel to come over to the Orlando Wild was so that his daughter can be surrounded by more Spanish speakers. I’m so going to use that angle for a series about our players and their families, and what playing for the Orlando Wild means to their loved ones. In the meantime, I need more testimonials about the team’s enthusiasm for this trade.
Practice right now doesn’t include live balls, so I don’t need to be super mindful about my position on the field. I skip over to the water coolers where three other players are camping out between their sets. As I approach, though, I start making sense of a conversation that I absolutely can’t share on social media.
“—Kidding me, right?” One of them grunts. “Like I know that he’s supposed to be one of us now and all that jazz, but I can’t brainwash myself that quickly.”
“Totally, man. We were literally up against him for the season opener. It’s just weird.”
“And besides that, look at him.” All three do. Even I turn. I don’t see anything special other than Miguel Machado wearing an Orlando Wild uniform and running drills along with Mike Brown, our third base. “What a stinking show off.”
Grunts and affirmations follow.
I pretend like I’m fiddling with my camera, waiting for them to rejoin the drills. My lower lip presses upward.
Call me naive, but it hadn’t occurred to me that anyone on the team would feel this way. Most of them have shown genuine excitement over what this could mean for the season, and a hundred percent have manifested clear shock that this is even happening.
But of course there will be guys who are jealous. The skills gap will become that much more obvious for some of them, even though it’s not like Logan and company were chump change before.
“Hmm…” I tap my chin. What can be done so that those three accept Miguel?
A figure breaks out from the drills, getting my attention.
Crap. I’m developing a Logan radar now.
He walks over to the coolers while removing his hat and wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. Right as he places his cap back on his head, I set out to review the footage on my camera once more. There’s no denying how my heart picks up speed the closer he gets, or how I can now detect the subtle piney scent that clings to his skin even from afar.
From the corner of my eye, I observe as how he grabs a bottle. It must be empty because he uncaps it and starts to fill it back up. In silence. And without acknowledging my presence.
Come to think, he’s been acting like this all day. Pretty big contrast for a guy who left a card and chocolates at my desk when I wasn’t looking.
I click back to the video I caught earlier in the locker room with Miguel, where he told me about his daughter and how happy he is to become a Wild player. I’m sure the news are already blowing up the baseball internet, and I cannot wait to contribute to it with this video.
“Do you like him or what?”
My head whips up. “What?”
Logan turns around and leans back against the table. His eyes are out on the field, but the hand holding the drink points at me. “Machado. Are you his fan or his fangirl?”
“Is there a difference?” I’m so confused right now.
“Yeah. A huge one.”
“I definitely don’t identify as a fanboy. Do you?” I tease back, grinning.
For the first time all day, Logan turns his serious, deep set eyes on me.
My breath hitches and I’m really glad for all the noise in the field. Hopefully he didn’t notice how just a glance from him made me, well, fangirl on the inside.
“Absolutely the hell not.” His vehement answer makes me grin.
“Well, neither do I.” I tip my head toward the new player at a distance. “But as a baseball fan, I think that this is the absolute best move our management has ever done. I can’t help feeling on top of the world right now.”
Logan tips his head back, opening his mouth to squirt water into it. I try not to stare at the trickle that runs down his chin to his neck, over his Adam’s apple. And I fail miserably.
