Page 44 of Love Rewritten

“You’re going to laugh,” she says.

I hold out my pinky. “I won't. Promise.”

She hesitates before taking my pinky in hers and squeezing. She stifles a nervous laugh and averts her gaze to the sky so she doesn’t have to look at me when she admits to her thoughts. Her face scrunches tightly together when she says, “This,” with her arms splayed out wide, still gripping the neck of the wine bottle in one hand.

I narrow my eyes as I try to understand. “What, sex in a park? Kinky.”

She shoves my arm. “Just outside, under the stars. All of this. You nailed it.” She tips her head toward me and smirks. “Literally.” And then she laughs at her own joke.

I hold back a chuckle and smile, hoping she doesn’t think I’m trying not to laugh at her admission. “I think that’s cute.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. “And hot.” She rolls her eyes and pokes me in the stomach, making me grunt with a final laugh.

We dress after lying in silence for a while longer, listening to nature and watching the stars flicker above us. When the breeze picks up over the pond, the blanket almost blows away, but it gets caught on a dead branch a few yards to the right. We take it as our cue to head back home.

It’s the bottom of the ninth inning, we’re up to bat, and we’re losing. Down by two. If we don’t win this, we’re done with the tournament. That’s it. No more. Unless a scout decides I still have the skill set they’re looking for, this could end my baseball career.

I think, subconsciously I’ve made my decision between baseball and the hospital. I’m not sure I’d be so antsy about this game if I didn’t think I might have a chance, if I didn’t think I could make baseball my career. It’s not looking so hot right now, though. The team we’re playing is good, and it’s showing.

Thankfully, Dante was able to return to the field for this game. I’m not sure we would have had much of a shot if he wasn’t back in. Kevin’s good, but Dante has an extra boost to his pitches that tends to scare whoever’s at bat.

I’m not up this inning. It’s probably a good thing. I’d only make the game end faster. It’s been a rough game for me. My mind has been elsewhere all day, both good and bad. Abby sits in the bleachers near the top, watching closely. From what I’ve gathered, she’s been just as worried as the rest of our team based on her facial expressions every time I look up there.

Last night was single-handedly the best night of my life. I can’t stop thinking about how she looked in that dress, and I’m struggling to keep my self-control in check. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so all over the place with my catching and hitting. Nothing’s sticking correctly. It’s just making me frustrated, which makes me struggle even more. Undoubtedly, the scouts here have caught on and are taking strict notes.

“Dallas! We need a pinch runner. You’re in for Connor,” Coach yells back to me, pulling me away from my racing thoughts. He gives me a look that screams “Get your ass moving.” He’s on edge, too. Everyone is.

I grab my helmet and head to first base, realizing Connor got hit in the knee by a rogue fastball. A string of curse words is the only thing leaving his mouth as he limps back to the dugout, arms slung around the medical team's shoulders.

Once I reach first, the ump signals to keep playing. We’re sitting at one out and one on base. A slew of foul balls keeps me in place for far longer than my nervous legs want to stay put. Most of them are obvious fouls, but one has me halfway to second before I make the trek back to first to reset my position.

He strikes out on the last pitch, still leaving me stranded on first. Dante’s designated hitter, Leo, is up next. He has the best batting average on the team. Hopefully we can get some movement on these bases. First pitch is a ball. The second one he swings at is a curveball, missing by a hair. On the third pitch, he makes contact, and the crack of the bat rings out. We both take off toward our respective bases and halt, me on second, Leo on first.

Next is Jake, our shortstop. He’s one of only two lefties on our team, which gives him an advantage in more ways than one. He smacks the ball into the middle of left field. Normally, I wouldn’t run, but with Leo on first, I don’t have a choice. I know how this will end.

I take off running as fast as my feet will carry me, dust flying behind me in a flurry. I attempt to slide into third when the ball is thrown just over the third baseman’s reach. He jumps for it when my hand hits the base. I hold my position on my stomach, waiting to hear the outcome of my hopefully successful slide. When the umpire gestures the play safe, I only let myself celebrate for a few seconds before focusing back on the game.

We might have a chance of winning if we can keep this momentum going.

Our next hitter steps up to home plate. The first two pitches end in strikes. He hits the third pitch. It bounces before the pitcher catches it and I’m only a third of the way to home plate when their catcher steps on home plate. I jog the rest of the way and let him tag me as I reach him. He lifts the visor of his helmet and extends his right hand to me. A show of honorable defeat. I offer a smile and shake his hand.

We lost.

The opposing team runs to the field and pounces on the catcher for making the final play of the game. They cheer and hug and jump up and down as they celebrate their win. Our team moves back to the dugout to lick our wounds.

I look at where two scouts are sitting and catch them leaving the bleachers, stuffing their notepads into their pockets. That’s likely the end of my baseball career and Logan’s. At the moment, I feel a bit somber from the realization. The seniors on the team gather their things for the final time and we all make our way back to the locker rooms.

Coach Charlie stops everyone before they start to clean up. “Can I get everyone’s attention, please?”

We all gather around where he stands and wait for him to continue, every one of us looking as defeated as we feel.

“I just want to thank you all for another amazing season. This has been one of my favorite years of coaching, and that’s all due to your dedication and …” he pauses, searching for the right word, “eclectic personalities.” He smirks at his own joke, and that gets a few laughs from everyone. “To our seniors, I’m proud of how far you’ve come this year and wish you all the best in your future endeavors.” Everyone claps for his little speech.

I step forward, deciding that, since I’m the captain of the team, I should say a few closing words as well. “I would like to thank everyone as well. You’ve made my senior year a blast and I wouldn’t be where I am today without a lot of you guys kicking me in the ass when I needed it.” I jokingly glare at Logan, who chuckles at my stare. “And, Coach, thank you for being the best coach I’ve ever had. And not giving up on me last year through everything.”

I give him a large hug and he says in my ear. “I’m going to miss you, fucker. You get into a bad spot again, don’t hesitate to call.” I laugh into the hug before pulling away. He looks at the group again. “All right. That’s enough sappy talk for the day. Go shower. You all stink.”

The shower feels good, and I let the cool water run down my body, taking in the idea that this’ll be the last time I step foot in this locker room. And when I’m done, I empty my locker, hoist my bag over my shoulder, Logan following behind me, and step out of the building for the last time.

Chapter 17

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