Page 9 of Switch Pitching

Lmao

Can’t sleep

Yeah same here

Drinks were full of caffeine

Lol that’s why I’m restless ig

Wanna hang for a bit

That’s tempting. It’s late, but I’m wide awake anyway.

I’m down. Come to mine

607

Bet omw

James arrives a few minutes later with a six-pack of beers in one hand. He’s in a soft-looking hoodie and sweatpants, and, as always, he looks great.

But it is what it is. He’s attractive, sure, with his tousled hair and dazzling smile, but I’ve been through this before. Plenty of my teammates in the past were attractive, and I know how to not fall for them: keep things friendly and professional, remind myself that he’sstraight, and before long, I won’t be able to see James as anything more than a friend. Still, it’s hard not to notice the way his clothes cling to his body or the way his laugh makes me light up inside.

“Figured we could use something to take the edge off,” he says, pointing at the six-pack.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

James tosses me a beer and flops down on my spare bed. The can is cold in my hand, and I crack it open to take a long sip. Almost instantly, the caffeinated buzz that’s running through my brain begins to soften.

“So,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light, “you’re Canadian, right?”

James nods. “Yeah, I grew up in Toronto. It’s an amazing city. My parents weren’t around a lot after I started high school, but they always tried their best to make time for me.”

I nod, taking another sip of my beer. “Small town kid myself. Born and raised in Machias, Maine. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Maine? Sounds chill,” he says, his tone genuinely interested.

“It is,” I reply. “Went to Vermont for college, then moved to Portland to play in the minors.”

“And now you’re with Boston, big New England man,” James says, grinning.

I smile back. “Something like that.”

“What’d you study in Vermont?”

Shifting slightly, I adjust myself to face James. “I majored in Economics?—”

James’s face lights up. “No way, I did, too! We’re basically the same person.”

“Except for the fact that you’re Canadian, a pitcher, and ambidextrous, and I’m none of those.”

Waving his hand dismissively, James rolls his eyes. “Those are like, three things. They mean nothing. We’re the same person.”

I snort, and I can’t seem to find a way to reply. There’s a comfortable silence for a moment, the AC humming in the background.

“So, how’d you get started with baseball?” James asks.

“Well, baseball’s always been a thing for me,” I start, taking another sip of my beer. “Started playing when I was five, and I stuck with it. Got lucky with a few good seasons, and the next thing I know, I’m playing in Vermont, then Portland. And now I’m here.” Setting my empty beer down, I prompt James to give his backstory.

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