Page 31 of Switch Pitching

“Are you coming to dinner with the team?” he asks.

I finish fighting with my shirt, smoothing it out as James waits for my answer, casually leaning against the wall with that same smile still tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I say, glancing down at my phone to check the time. Dinner is in thirty minutes. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Some pizza place near the hotel. We’re in Chicago, so, it’s deep dish.”

We head down to the lobby and Will spots us coming down, giving us a wave. Most of our teammates already arrived, and the group heads out as soon as James and I arrive.

It’s a pretty short walk to the restaurant from where we’re staying. The weather is so pleasant that I’m almost disappointed once we arrive.

As soon as we’re all seated, Gabe switches places, planting himself right across from James, with a mischievous grin on his face. “Alright, Ethan,” he says, leaning forward and dropping his voice like he’s about to spill some serious tea. “What’s it like living with this guy?” He nods at James who narrows his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow, knowing exactly where this is going. “It’s fine,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I mean, it’s James. He’s easy to live with.”

“Come on, man, don’t sugarcoat it,” Tim cuts in from the other side of the table. “We all know what James is like. Let’s hope you have thick walls at your place!” He raises a glass in some kind of toast that I don’t return.

Gabe’s eyes glint and I can tell he’s getting carried away. “Yeah, I bet tonight’s gonna be crazy, huh? You two are sharing aroom, and I’m calling it now: Ethan’s getting sexiled.” He laughs, clearly enjoying himself.

I open my mouth to speak but Tim beats me to it. “Or better, Ethan should pick up a girl tonight and beat James back to the room! Let him know how it feels for once.”

“Yeah, I’ll pick any of the women who are brave enough to approach me when I’m surrounded by all of you,” I fire back. “But honestly, James is chill. You guys need to stop acting like he’s some kind of player.”

“Oh, come on,” Gabe chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “I’m just saying, if you do pull that move, James might feel outdone and try to join you two so he can keep things even. Eiffel Tower whatever lucky chick falls into bed with both of you.”

I choke on my water, coughing as I try to swallow. The comment catches me off guard, and it makes me cringe as I shut out the image of having a threesome with James. I don’t need that right now. Luckily, James takes over the defense and slings his arm around my shoulder.

“What do you say we cut out the middleman tonight? Just you and me taking inspiration from those gossip magazines,” he quips.

The table bursts into laughter. I guess the idea of anyone on the teamactuallybeing gay is inconceivable enough to be taken as a joke.

After that, dinner goes smoothly, just a bunch of guys eating too much pizza and throwing around banter about who’s going to choke first in the game tomorrow. After we finish, the team filters out of the restaurant and splits up, with most people heading back to the hotel.

“Alright, boys,” Will says, clapping his hands together as we gather by the door, “no wild shit tonight, okay?”

There’s a chorus of mock groans, but we all know the drill. Don’t mess up the game. As we step back out into the warm night, James walks beside me, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk and clear our heads before tomorrow?” he asks.

I look over at him, surprised. He seemed exhausted toward the end of dinner, and I thought that I’d be the one to drag him back tonight as some kind of payback for that night in Tampa.

“Sure, sounds good.”

We hang back and then turn right, walking through The Loop. James is quiet, which rarely happens. Maybe something’s up with him.

“You good?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer right away, and sighs instead. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ve been thinking. About a lot of stuff.”

I glance at him, trying to read his face. “Like what?”

“I’ve been thinking about how weird it is sometimes. Like, I’m always putting on an act for who I’msupposedto be.”

James pauses, his pace slowing down a bit. “As much as I complain about people seeing me as a fuckboy, I know I act like a typical athlete with everyone, which doesn’t help the stereotyping. But with you, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t feel any pressure to be someone I’m not, and that doesn’t happen with just anyone.”

“I don’t get it. It isn’t like I’m the most talkative person out there.”

James stops and then sits down on a bench facing the Chicago River. “Sure, but you’re you,” he continues. “I honestly can’t tell what it is exactly, but you don’t judge. You’ve never given me shit about the rumors, and no matter what I do, I know you’re gonna be cool with me.”

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