Page 115 of Left on Base

CAMDYN

When a pitcher throws the ball over the edge of the plate.

I’m staring at Brynn’s glove like it just started speaking French. Actually, French would make more sense than what she just said.

The worn leather Wilson’s got the same bewildered look I probably have right now—if catching mitts could have expressions. Which, in this moment of what-the-actual-hell, feels entirely possible.

“Wait.” I grip the ball tighter, my fingers curling into the familiar seams. “Say that again?”

“I said”—Brynn shifts behind the plate in our bullpen by Husky Softball Stadium—“Inez is meeting up with Jaxon at Starbucks today.”

My next pitch clatters into the chain-link fence behind her—a sound that matches the alarm bells going off in my head.

“They’re supposed to talk or whatever,” she adds as she scoops up the ball.

I’m so confused. Like, completely freaking confused.

You know the worst part about being in a situationship?

Besides it being a fucking nightmare, but whatever. You know this already.

Anyway… here’s the worst part. One person always holds out hope it’ll turn into more, and every day they hope it’s that day. Yes, that’s me, raising my hand.

And every day I’m let down when we’re still stuck in the same confusion. It’s exhausting. You ever been so into a guy you stop making plans, just waiting to see what he’s doing first?

Right there with you, sister.

Do you wait to go to bed at night until you know he has, just in case he might text you?

If so, same. Girl. Same.

I know what you’re thinking. Or what I’m thinking, but it’s probably along the lines of:stop waiting on him. You deserve better. Live your life. Your happiness doesn’t depend on him.I tell myself that, but I can’t make my heart get on board. It keeps trying to hold on, thinking Jaxon will finally pull his head out of his ass and love me the way I deserve.

So why am I feeling like this today? Nothing’s changed in the last month—so what gives?

Because of this conversation at practice.

“She really likes him,” Brynn says, squatting back down to catch my next pitch. Thethwapof the ball in her mitt echoes off the fence. “Like,reallylikes him.”

You know what? Fuck this. This is exactly what I didn’t need to hear while watching Lexi, our all-star senior shortstop, butcher a routine grounder.

At least I’m not the only one dropping balls today.

“I guess Inez feels terrible about something that happened,” Brynn continues, and I have to bite back a laugh.

Why is she telling me any of this?

I wind up for another pitch, watching Coach Drew run infield drills. There’s something weirdly therapeutic about watching girls dive for balls while my world slowly implodes.

“She wants to apologize,” Brynn says, tossing the ball back.

My stomach twists into knots, and my next pitch goes wild, sailing over the fence and nearly taking out our right fielder. Oops. Honestly, watching her dive out of the way was the highlight of my practice.

I’m trying to focus on Coach yelling “Two! Two! Two!” during the double-play drill, but all I can think about is Jaxon meeting up with Inez.

I stare at the neon yellow ball in my hand, turning it over and over like I’m searching for answers in the red seams. Here’s the thing about Brynn—and part of why she’s never actually dated King—she thrives on drama and half the time reads situations about as well as a golden retriever writes horoscopes. For all I know, this Inez-Jaxon coffee date is just Brynn mixing up her gossip again, like that time she swore our assistant coach was secretly dating the baseball team’s bat boy, who turned out to be her cousin visiting from Oregon.

But when it comes to Jaxon, my trust issues have trust issues. I don’t know who to believe. I don’t know what we’re doing anymore, and every time we get closer to figuring it out, he pulls back. Like he’s not ready, or he’s scared of dating me again.

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