Page 64 of Imperfect Player

When I don’t move, Ethan presses his hands to my back giving me a slight shove into the cage. He sets the helmet on my head and swats my ass as he walks away.

“Ethan.”

My scolding earns me a chuckle and I’m not sure why. There are people watching, kids, cameras. And here he is swatting my ass and acting like . . . like . . . Like what, Everly? Like you’re friends? Like you’re being silly and having fun?

All the while, I’m reading more into the whole day, his words. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, just like Chelle did. Only I’m living this, and overanalyzing or not, there’s something different about today. About him. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I know I’m right. I know it’s there.

“Go get ‘em, sunshine,” he says as he closes the cage door.

He stands there, smile on his face, hands holding onto the chain link fence that separates us.

Get them. Yeah. Okay.

Standing in the batter’s box, I wait for the ball to eject from the machine. As it comes sailing toward me, I swing. Way too early.

Behind me, I can hear Ethan’s laughter.

Asshole.

Another ball comes. Another swing and a miss. This time, I’m too late.

My timing is all off.

“Come on, sunshine. You’ve got this.”

Another ball. Another miss.

I resist the urge to hit the bat on the ground out of frustration. Instead, I breathe. I try to focus. I . . . freeze.

Ethan’s stepped into the batting cage with me. His hands are currently on my hips.

“Here, let me help you.”

He squares me up on the plate before wrapping his arms around me and guiding the bat into position. He steps back and appraises his handywork before making a few more adjustments to my arms, then legs, until they are in a perfect batting stance.

“Just remember, keep your elbow up and follow through,” he tells me.

I raise my elbows. The position feels awkward.

“On the count of three, swing. One. Two. Three. Now!”

At his command, I swing.

Thwack.

The bat connects with the ball in the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard.

“I did it!” I squeal, jumping up and down, making sure to stay in the batter’s box as I do. The last thing I need is to get hit with a ball.

“Yes, you did.” Ethan smiles proudly, picking me up and twirling me around.

The crowd cheers too. The crowd that I had forgotten about the moment I felt Ethan’s body against mine. The one I should have been more aware of for that reason.

Ethan takes the bat from me. “Let me show you how a pro does it.”

“Oh, please. If you were so good at batting, they would have kept you at first base, not made you a pitcher.”

He swings and hits the ball with a precision and force that I hadn’t anticipated. He’s good. Damn good.

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