Page 40 of Moon Shot

“You two are going to win that contest today,” Aubrey chimed in. “When are they awarding that?”

“Seventh inning stretch,” Ezra added while eating his hot dog.

Seven more innings. I was on the edge of my seat watching Rowan play. His chance in the World Series didn’t end that day, but we did. It was exhilarating and addictive to watch his reaction, to hear his bat snap when hitting a home run, but something entirely exhausting to think our game ended.

In the fifth inning, the Emeralds were up by eight points. By the sixth, I had two margaritas and needed Ethan to hold me still. He didn’t know why I was a ball of nerves, but blaming it on baseball passed his test.

“Miss West?” A security guard leaned over Ezra and Heather to get my attention, tapping me on my shoulder. “It’s time for you to join Mr. Ellis on the field.”

Every profanity ran through my head. Thrice. I felt more vulnerable than ever, especially when an entire stadium was going to watch the intimacy of him smiling at me for the last time.

“We’re going to make it!” Rowan shouted, running out of the dugout to hug me. I knew he was talking about the World Series, but I had my fingers crossed for the contest. I didn’t like losing, especially to the sort of competition lined up next to us near home plate.

The crowd cheered as videos played on the large screen. There were snapshots of every public appearance we had, and Rowan was right. We were perfect for each other in every way. He lowered his forehead to mine while the Emerald’s owner gave a speech and talked about being in love, blah, blah. I nearly fainted when he announced the couple in third place was Levi and Erica. Something about that made me feel like a winner already.

“Portland has voted,” the owner roared with excitement, waving an envelope in his wrinkled hands. “The couple in second place is…”

I didn’t hear. I couldn’t. Lifted into the air, my legs wrapped around Rowan’s waist as he held me against him with one hand and knotted his hand through my hair with the other. The crowd was erupting like a volcano, deafening me as Rowan spun us around. As he lowered me back to the dirt, his mouth on mine, I realized we weren’t in second place.

“We won,” he repeated in my ear. “We pulled it off!”

People on the field began asking where we planned on donating the money, commenting and praising the volunteer work and connections we built over the season. But my mask was cracking. It was sweetest day. The Emeralds were winning the game. Our production was over, except for however we planned on fake breaking up.

I’d helped him fix his image, making even more people obsessed with him, and he helped me save my job. If I focused on that, I could leave the field and pretend my tears were the lucky kind.

“Go win the game,” I told him, patting his chest as we stood together near his dugout.

“Thank you,” Rowan cupped my face in his palms, “for saving me from myself.”

“What are friends for?”

The security guard whisked me back up to our aisle when Rowan joined his team in the dugout, waiting for their turn at bat.

The crowd was relentless, shaking the stands and rattling the roof as they cheered on the Emeralds at the bottom of the ninth. It came down to this, and everyone knew it as they cleared their seats and stood wherever anyone could watch the field. People were desperate to get closer, to be part of the action.

Two men were on base, with Diego at bat and Rowan on deck. Diego cracked a dinger into the outfield, running in Ryan on third. The air was palpable, buzzing with the excited tension only Rowan could break when at bat.

Ezra was almost blue from holding his breath. Aubrey clung to Ethan, and I nearly chewed off my thumb. Rowan fastened and unfastened his batting glove twice. He twisted with the bat on his shoulders, before settling into his stance at home plate. The pitcher called the catcher over to him, giving Rowan another chance to prepare.

“They’re probably going to just try to walk him,” Ethan groaned. “They know there’s no chance of winning, so why not take Rowan out on a low note to mess with him?”

“That’s evil,” Aubrey grimaced. She cupped her mouth, shouting at the opposing team, as if they heard her voice over the pandemonium.

My margarita settled happily into my nerves, vanquishing them while I focused on the game. I was in knots when the catcher went back behind the plate, watching how coolly Rowan could carry the weight of his team.

Ball one. Don’t let them mock you. You can do it. He couldn’t read my mind. If he had, he might’ve fake broken up a month ago. His bat snapped in half, shards of wood spraying the fence behind him as Rowan took off running to first. I’d never seen him move so fast, his graceful leaps pushing him around second, third, and home.

The Emeralds flooded the field, the small mob swallowing Rowan before he floated on top of them. We were just as boisterous, bouncing up and done, hugging and acting out. He did it again, winning with an ease I was envious of.

“Now it’s one more game and they win the World Series,” Ezra continued explaining baseball to Heather. “It’s an out-of-town game, on the other team’s dirt.”

“That was amazing,” she gaped, staring at the field. “Are you going out there?” She turned to me, squeezing my arm.

“No.” I returned her smile. “Too much testosterone for me. Besides, they’re going to celebrate as a team and then who knows what sort of debauchery will be had.”

Ethan checked his phone. “I say we wait twenty minutes for the traffic to clear and head out.” There was something comforting about him getting back to business. Maybe because it was over. All of it.

None of us followed the Emeralds to their last game, but I’d be fooling myself if I said I didn’t have it on at home while I ate carryout in my pajamas. I skipped the party at Ethan and Aubrey’s house. I wasn’t in a place to talk about Rowan, even though I couldn’t keep my eyes off the screen. I was shoving food in my face at the top of the eighth, when Rowan was preparing to catch at first. The batter stormed toward him as the ball made a clear line into Rowan’s glove.

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