Tyler’s laughter echoes across the field as I glare at nothing in particular. Baseball isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. “C’mon, bring it back,” he yells.
Huffing, I prop the bat under my arm and stalk off across the lawn to fetch the baseball, which has rolled to a stop. The first swing doesn’t count. I’ll get it this time for sure. I reach down and scoop up the baseball before jogging back over to the home plate, carefully tossing the ball across the field to Tyler, who’s still laughing.
“Okay,” he finally says, clearing his throat. He smirks. “You swung way too early. Don’t panic this time. Just focus.”
I press my lips into a firm line, concentrating hard on the ball in his hand as I take up my stance again. The bat hovers in the air by my shoulder and I say nothing, just wait.
Tyler nods once and pulls back his arm once again, snapping it forward and releasing the ball. It comes spiraling in my direction but this time I don’t panic, only remain still until just the right moment. With as much strength as I can possibly muster up, I swing, and suddenly there’s a thunderous crack.
It doesn’t hit me at first what’s happened until I see the ball curving back across the field, soaring over Tyler’s head as he raises his eyebrows, surprised. I lose sight of where the ball lands, but I realize that I’m still standing on the home plate. I shouldn’t be. I should be running.
I turn for first base at the exact same time as Tyler runs off to collect the ball. My heart pounds in my chest and my eyes almost feel blurred, but I keep going, passing first base within a few seconds. I head for second, but I can see Tyler turning around in the distance and making his way back over, perhaps running just as fast as I am. I try to speed up, almost sliding on the dirt as I round second base. I want a home run, I think. I really, really want a home run.
“Don’t do it!” I yell as I set my eyes on third base, but Tyler keeps getting closer. He’s right. He’s not going easy on me. I start to panic as he approaches, willing myself to make it, my pulse racing.
But just as I’m within touching distance of third base, Tyler’s body swings in front of mine and I collide with him before I even get the chance to stop. He grabs my waist and pulls me down with him, tackling me to the ground until we land in a heap on the dirt.
He starts laughing while I try to catch my breath, my breathing just as ragged and uneven as his. The ball has landed several feet away from us.
“That’s so not fair,” I mutter, but I don’t mind that much. My body is touching his, and I quickly roll off him and onto my back. I rest my head on the ground by his side as we both stare up to the gray sky. It keeps growing darker. “I wanted that home run.”
“Welcome to the world of baseball,” Tyler says, but he’s still chuckling. He eventually calms down and sighs, sitting up. His green eyes are smoldering. “How badly did you want that home run?”
“I wanted it more than anything,” I say, folding my arms across my chest and turning my head away from him. I’m still out of breath. “I wanted to look totally badass.”
“Get up,” Tyler orders. I sense him getting to his feet, and his towering body casts a dark shadow over my body, despite the fact that there’s not much sun. “C’mon.”
Heaving a sigh, I push myself up from the ground and brush myself off. Standing straight, I arch my eyebrows at Tyler and wait for an explanation. He’s smiling gently.
“I didn’t touch base or tag you,” he says slowly, his smile widening, “so you’re still in. The home run is all yours.” He must see my confusion, because he shakes his head. “Didn’t you listen to anything I told you on the way over here? Didn’t you listen to any of the rules?”
“I’m not out?”
He rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother to answer me. Instead, he reaches for my hand. I should be used to the feeling by now, but I’m not. We’ve gone so long without seeing each other that now even the slightest touch is overwhelming. I can’t seem to figure out why our hands seem to fit more perfectly together than Dean’s and mine. It could possibly feel this way because Tyler’s hands are smoother, whereas Dean’s are calloused from working at his dad’s garage. It could even feel this way because Dean’s hands are often cold and Tyler’s are often warm. I don’t know. It just feels different. My body never reacts to Dean the same way it reacts to Tyler, and I can’t figure out if it’s because I’m more in love with Tyler than I am with Dean, or if it’s simply guilt that causes my heart rate to pick up. Tyler and I are wrong for so many reasons. We’re wrong for not being over each other. We’re wrong for flirting behind Dean’s back. We’re wrong because we’re stepsiblings.