Grinning, I took it and said, “Justin Carter, catcher.”
“All right, gentlemen!” At Coach Williams’s voice we both turned and then hustled over to the pitcher’s mound. “This is how it’s gonna go. We have stations set up to monitor your fielding, your ground ball work, and live hitting in the cage. Give me everything you’ve got today, and I promise, I’ll be watching. Results are posted on Monday, and let me just say this now, so we’re clear—if you don’t make it this round, it just means you weren’t ready. We hold tryouts every year, and I hope you’ll consider coming back out next January.”
His gaze slid over the group, now up to over thirty guys trying out for the same fifteen spots. I couldn’t speak for everyone else, but only one thing was going through my mind: one of those spots was mine.
Coach popped his gum and asked, “Everyone ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
My voice was clear and strong among the chorus, and even though I was just one of many, he turned his head and looked me straight in the eye. Nodding once he said, “Let’s get to work.”
***
“Looking pretty good out there.”
I capped my water bottle on the sidelines, a minute into our five-minute water break, and glanced up into the stands. Hot girl was smiling at me. She’d spent most of the last hour reading a paperback or with her face lifted to the sun like a human sunflower. Occasionally she’d cheer for guys who missed at bat or made a mistake, but I only caught her watching me once. I’d made sure to nail it when she did.
“So you have been watching me,” I replied, smiling wider when she blushed. “Hey now, don’t be embarrassed. It’s only natural you’d watch the hottest guy out here.”
A breathless laugh escaped her lips. “Wow.” Setting her book on her lap, she smiled back, an open, sweet kind of smile without any hint of flirtation. “What is it about ball players and egos the size of Texas?” She shook her head and said, “My daddy warned me about guys like you.”
“Girl, your dad never met a guy like me, because I’m an original.”
Honestly, I had no idea where this shit came from. Half the time, I sounded like a total moron—but girls ate it up.
Hot girl scrunched her nose. “Does that kind of line usually work?”
I laughed out loud. “Ninety-nine percent of the time.”
Either I had no game with this girl, she had a boyfriend, or she wasn’t into hooking up, which was all I did. But still, something kept me from walking. “You got a name, pretty girl?”
That sweet grin returned as she said, “Lord, you’re just one bad line after another, aren’t you?”
Definitely no game. “Fine, I’ll just make one up then.”
I squinted up at her, tapping my water bottle against my thigh and feeling that smile all the way down to my toes. Remembering the way she held her face to the sun, I lifted a finger and declared, “Sunshine. Your name’s Sunshine.”
“Ahh, so I’m a hippie,” she said, pursing her lips. They were soft pink, natural, and didn’t appear to have any lipstick. Her entire face was makeup-free, and now that I thought about it, she hadn’t worn any that first day either. Sunshine laughed softly and tilted her head to study me. After a moment she said, “I’m Peyton.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” I teased, and she rolled her eyes. “And, since I know you’re dying to ask, I’m just gonna tell you. My name is Justin.”
“And here I just assumed it was Trouble.”
Right there. Any other girl delivering that line and she’d have been flirting. Not this girl, though. She meant it. “I’m hurt, Peyton, really. Making snap judgments when all I’ve done is give you compliments and hand over your schedule after you dropped it.”
A schedule I should’ve paid more attention to.
For the briefest second, a shadow passed over her face and I wondered what it meant. But then it was gone and she was back to busting my balls. “Exactly. And why were you in the front office that day, huh? Called to see the principal on the first day of the new semester.” She tsked in disapproval and pointed at me. “Trouble.”
“Actually, I was there to change my classes around.” I didn’t know why it mattered so much what she thought. Peyton was fun to talk to and she was definitely easy on the eyes, but it was obvious she wasn’t my usual type.
But still…
“I’m gonna make the team today,” I told her, “and I need my unstructured period to be the hour before lunch. That’s when Coach holds office hours in the athletic department, and I’ve heard he talks strategy with players who are there.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re dedicated. He’ll like that.”
Okay. “And you’d know this—”
A sharp whistle blasted from the pitcher’s mound, cutting me off. I turned to see Coach waving us back out and quickly took a final pull off my water.