Page 8 of Switch Pitching

The team races back to the dugout and we all celebrate excitedly, recounting the highs of the game and congratulating each other. Ethan is getting a ton of compliments on the catch he made in the ninth, and he looks a lot happier than he did earlier in the evening. I offer a few praises of my own before heading into the clubhouse for a shower.

We’re all done showering in no time. Since we have the morning off tomorrow, some of the team veterans are already rounding us up, their sights set on what they call a go-to spot near the ballpark. We head over to the bar and order, but I’m not going too hard tonight. The team still has a mandatory practice tomorrow afternoon, and I don’t want to show up feeling like shit.

As I take a sip of my beer, Ethan slides up next to me holding a glass of something carbonated. “You crushed it out there tonight,” he says with a grin.

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just keeping up with the team. That catch you made in the ninth? You saved our asses out there.”

Ethan gives a small laugh. “Group effort?”

Sheesh. He’s humble. With his skills, most guys would brag endlessly, but I haven’t seen anything get to Ethan’s head.

Taking another sip, I reply. “Seriously, though. You’regood. We’re glad you’re on our side.”

Ethan flashes a smile and we clink our glasses together.

Gabe, one of our catchers, leans across the table unexpectedly. His eyes are drooping and he’s clearly already a couple drinks in.

“So, James, you wrangle up any girls yet? Figured you’d have a few lined up by now,” Gabe says with a smirk, clapping my shoulder with a bit too much force.

The table erupts with a mixture of laughter and “knowing” glances. My stomach tightens. This whole rumor that I’m dying to fuck wherever I walk is getting old.

Pressing my mouth into a tight line, I throw a look at Ethan, and he’s cautiously suppressing a smile.

“James probably has a group waiting for him back at the hotel,” Ethan says. He gives me a grin, but his eyes don’t meet mine.

I laugh it off, shaking my head. “Nah, I’m just here to chill with the team tonight.” This whole thing bothers me, even though I’m trying to stay chill about it. Knowing that even Ethan’s heard my fuckboy rumors hits harder than I expected. He wasn’t there. Nothing happened, but that isn’t how everyone else saw it.

I’m not that kind of guy. I don’twantto be that kind of guy.

Sure, I hooked up back in university, but it was nothing crazy. Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t a fuckboy. Hell, between classes, studying, and games, I barely had time to sleep.

I’m unusually quiet for the rest of the night as I nurse one beer, keeping my face set in what’s hopefully a neutral, not-pissed-off expression. I’d prefer not to be seen as a player, especially by my teammates, and definitely not by Ethan. But once you get a label, it’s hard to shake.

5

ETHAN

Practice is finally over for the day. It’s been almost a month since I arrived for spring training, and my muscles aren’t screaming at me every afternoon, so I’d like to think that I’m getting the hang of things. I wipe sweat off my face with an icy towel and head to a table where a team intern is unloading a bunch of cups. Without a second thought, I grab one of the bright, neon-colored drinks and chug.

The team clears the table in seconds and James heads out. Right as I’m about to follow him, I see Will eying all of us like we’re crazy.

“Did you all drink these?” he asks.

We all gesture at our empty cups.

“You know those things are loaded with caffeine, right? I go to the bathroom forone minuteand you guys end up drinking what’s basically an energy drink.”

I check my watch, and it’s already six. Normally, I’m a one-coffee-a-day guy, so this is way too late to have caffeine. Oops.

As the team devolves into chaos, Will walks up to me. “Yo, Ethan,” he says. “If I were you, I’d take an allergy pill from the welcome kit before bed, it’ll cancel out the caffeine.”

I offer a polite smile and turn away. Tomorrow is gonna suck because there’s no way I’m getting much sleep tonight.

I stare up, tracking the flashes of light from passing headlights as they move across the ceiling in an almost predictable pattern. It’s past midnight and I’m still wired. That allergy pill was completely useless. I drag myself out of bed to grab another one, and as I’m about to take it, my phone buzzes. It’s James.

JAMES HERNANDEZ

Yo u up

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