The tension is getting to everyone. It’s another Texas scorcher and the stands are packed with anxious fans sweating it out on broiling metal seats. It’s the bottom of the fourth and we’re two runs ahead, not nearly the sort of margin our team is used to. But we’ll find our rhythm. Of that I have no doubt. Losing today isn’t an option.
Knowing that Carlos needs to work it out on his own, I sit next to him without saying a word, drinking tepid Gatorade. A low buzz behind us signals an incoming text and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who it’s for. Reaching back with a sigh, Carlos grabs his phone and unlocks it, then grins like the whipped dope that he is.
I lean over to get a look at the screen. It’s a picture of Gabi blowing him a kiss. No message, no words of wisdom. Just her showing her unique brand of unconditional love. I had that once.
Nudging his arm, I say, “I know I talk a lot of shit, busting your balls and all, but that girl’s good for you.”
Carlos nods and types out a quick reply. “I know it.”
As my best friend finds comfort with his woman, I stretch my arms out, casually glancing out into the stands. Far left, third row, right next to the dugout, to be exact. Otherwise known as Sunshine’s seat.
Ever since freshman year, she’s sat in the same exact spot. She never misses a chance to support her dad. Once there was a time she came to support me. With her attention focused on Drew out at bat, I push to my feet, preparing for my turn, and simply watch her.
I love everything about this sport. You can’t fake it in baseball. It’s pure and honest and demands excellence. Another reason why I love playing it, at least at Fairfield Academy, is the uninterrupted excuse to watch the girl who owns my heart. Every time I grab my helmet and gloves from the cubby at the end of the dugout, I get to look at her. Every once in a while, I even catch her looking back. That makes my whole damn day.
Now, as I tug on my gloves, I know she feels me staring. A slow flush rises on her peaches and cream skin, and her legs suddenly move with a restless twitch. I smile. Despite what she says, her body can’t hide how much I affect her. How much she still wants me. It gives me hope for an entire thirty seconds—until I spy Cade shuffling down the bleachers.
I glance away before he sits. I can’t watch him take her hand or make her smile. Not when that hand belongs in mine, and those smiles are meant for me. Instead, I glance at the coin in my hand, remember a different day, and use that memory to center me for my turn.
I take a deep breath, feel the calming weight of Peyton’s coin in my palm, and place it in my sock before heading out onto the field. I’m ready.
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12TH
16 Weeks until Disaster
?Freshman Year
PEYTON
FAIRFIELD ACADEMY BASEBALL FIELD 3:12 P.M.
My confidence lasted as far as the parking lot.
The diamond behind the school was most definitely Justin’s turf. He had his areas in the school, I had mine, and rarely did the two meet. Sure, I sat in the bleachers, watching practices and games, but the two of us didn’t talk. Heck, we barely made eye contact. Up until now, our friendship had been kept completely separate from our everyday lives, away from prying eyes, and if things had continued as they were before, it probably would’ve stayed that way indefinitely. But ever since the day Justin discovered who my father was, things had been awkward. Stilted. Strained. I didn’t like it.
My plan for today involved stepping up my new life philosophy, doing what scared me, with the total acknowledgement that I’d likely get burned. If Justin was that uncomfortable hanging out with me because of my dad, I wouldn’t force him to be my friend. And if being seen with the coach’s daughter/nerdy new chick embarrassed him around his friends, well, I could take a hint. But he was worth at least a fight.
“Hey, Carter, you got a sec?”
He was standing alone a few yards away from the dugout, beyond the short fence, shaking his legs out before the game. I figured this conversation was best done minus an audience.
Justin glanced over and his entire demeanor changed. “Peyton.” His eyes brightened with his smile… though I didn’t miss the cursory glance he gave toward the dugout. “What are you doing here?”
Suddenly, the speech I’d rehearsed for close to a week flittered out of my mind. I knew I should’ve written it down.
“Ah, I wanted to wish you luck,” I told him, bouncing up on my toes. “Or, you know, if you’re one of those superstitious types, break a leg!”
Gah. I winced as my exuberant voice carried. Could I be any more of a freak?
Justin wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and glanced at the ground. Riiight. That was my cue. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to stretching then. I’ll be cheering for you.”
Mortified, I turned around and squeezed my eyes shut. Loneliness and sadness flooded my chest. Just when I thought I’d made a real connection at this school, a friend… with possible benefits… I realize how alone I really am. And I’d actually let myself think Justin Carter could like me.