Page 29 of Switch Pitching

“Dude, stop talking about my dick!” he sputters. “And don’t call it aschlong. That’s weird.”

I lightly punch Ethan’s shoulder. “Whatever, man. Let’s go to practice.”

The vibes from last night are still flowing when we get to the locker room before the second game against New York. The entire team is chatting and bantering, and spirits are high.

Will walks over to me and Ethan, phone in hand, with an amused expression on his face.

“Did either of you read SportWatch today?” he asks, a humorous glint in his eye catching me off guard.

“Nah, I try to stay away from stuff like that.”

Will is almost laughing now. “You two should see this, then.” He turns the phone toward us so Ethan and I can both read the article he’s loaded.

Bromance Alert! Sullivan and Hernandez are the Boston Falcons’ New Dynamic Duo!

I scoff. “Why is this news?”

Ethan reaches out to scroll down, revealing a sneaky picture of me and Ethan walking home, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. The “reporter” took the liberty of adding a red circle and an arrow. Ethan huffs. “It isn’t news and I doubt anyone reads this stuff.”

Will lets out a laugh. “Apparently, some people do. This already has a couple thousand views. You guys are trending.”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t help the slight grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Man, people will write about anything these days.”

Ethan shrugs, not letting it get to him. “Whatever. Let them talk.”

Will chuckles and pockets his phone, still amused by the whole thing. “Well, just thought you’d want to know. You’re famous for more than baseball now.”

“Great,” I mutter sarcastically, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. If anything, it’s kind of funny.

Ethan and I exchange a look, both of us silently agreeing to brush it off. I don’t need a gossip magazine to tell me that we’ve got a solid friendship.

“Right. Let’s focus on the game,” Ethan says, his tone shifting back to serious as he finishes adjusting his gear.

“Fine by me.” We’ve got another game ahead of us, and that’s what matters right now.

11

ETHAN

MAY

The bus ride from Midway into Chicago takes way too long, but I’m buzzing with excitement. It’s my first time here, and it’s cool to travel with the team on our first long road trip of the season.

I stare out the window, watching the skyline rise up as we approach the city center, crawling the last couple of miles to our hotel. We eventually arrive, file out, and grab our bags. I crack my shoulders, trying to loosen them up as the coaches handle room assignments.

One of the coaches calls out, waving two keycards. “Sullivan, Hernandez, you’re rooming together.”

“Seems like you’re stuck with me, no matter what,” James says.

“Oh no, living with you is gonna suck, how will I survive?”

James laughs and punches my chest before grabbing our keycards and heading for the elevators. I follow him, eager to get some rest.

“Not bad,” James says, surveying the modern, sleek room. The windows stretch from floor to ceiling, giving us a partialview of the city. James drops his bag onto the luggage rack, clearly satisfied with the setup.

“Which bed do you want?” I ask. At least we have two in this room. They look decently comfortable, too.

James fixes me with a sly expression, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Whichever one you’re in, babe.”

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