Page 15 of Left on Base

“Then what are you doing?” Her lips press into a hard fuck you line. “See? I knew this was going to happen when you two started sleeping with each other again.”

I don’t say anything. Truth is, Callie’s right. I think Camdyn and I both knew it could end like this. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know anything at this point. I know I miss her. But baseball is my main priority, and I hate all this drama on top of everything else I have to do.

I’m twenty years old. I shouldn’t be this stressed out all the time and hate my life as much as I do right now. Between maintaining NCAA eligibility, keeping my spot in the lineup, and trying not to fail classes, I feel like I’m barely treading water. And now this thing with Camdyn...

Okay, I’m not depressed. Don’t go calling a therapist for me. I’m fine, but in some ways, I’m not. Every decision I make has a consequence I’m not ready for. One bad game could cost me my starting position. One failed test could put me on academic probation. One wrong move with Camdyn could mean losing her forever.

“Are you leading her on?” Callie asks when Professor Blaine walks into the classroom, her coffee from Starbucks steaming in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. The scent of espresso fills the front row.

“No, I’m not.” I let out a heavy breath and adjust my hat, wishing I hadn’t chosen to sit here. I hate explaining this situation with Camdyn to people. I actually hate explaining anything I feel. When you’re a catcher, you’re supposed to be the steady one, the guy who keeps everyone else calm. Turns out, I’m terrible at it lately. “It’s just... her and I agreed we’d date other people and see what happens.”

“No,youagreed. She doesn’t want to.”

My heart starts beating faster. “I know.”

Callie blows out a heavy breath as if my life is stressing her out. I want to laugh in her face. Try squatting behind home plate for nine innings, then we can talk about stress. “Jaxon, you let this go all summer and you, I don’t know, led her on to thinkthings would change. But I’m not going to keep sitting back and letting you ruin her career for her.”

Ruin her career? Her career was one of my biggest concerns. Along with mine. The MLB scouts don’t care about your love life. They care about your stats, your focus, your dedication to the game. And college softball scouts? They’re just as ruthless.

I think about that night when I ended it with Camdyn and immediately regretted it. Still do, and that’s how the whole situationship started. It was because in the days following the breakup I couldn’t let go of her completely. I still can’t, because anytime I’m with Inez, I wish it was Camdyn. But it doesn’t mean I can give Camdyn what she deserves right now. There’s too much going on in my life, and hers.

“I’m not trying to hurt her,” I admit, knowing Callie isn’t going to understand my reasons. Nobody does. They don’t see the pressure, the expectations. They don’t understand what it’s like to have your whole future riding on how well you can throw a ball to second base or hit a curveball.

Her expression is understanding, in part. The other side wants to stab me in the eye with her pencil. “I know you’re not, but you are.”

“All I do is hurt her over and over again,” I say in defeat. “I don’t know why she doesn’t hate me.”

“She’ll never hate you, but maybe you should let her go.”

I shake my head. I make so many decisions that hurt everyone around me. Behind the plate, I’m solid. I know exactly what pitch to call, exactly where to position my glove. But off the field? I’m lost. “You don’t understand. I can’t. I’ve tried.”

“Have you ever thought maybeyou’renot whatsheneeds?”

“Yes. And I know I’m not.” I swallow again, my throat impossibly tight. “I’ve tried. So many times. But I can’t let her go.”

“Listen, Jaxon. Camdyn only wants you. She’s turned down so many guys who’ve tried to date her. She only texts you, and I don’t understand how you can’t see how loyal she is.”

That pisses me off. I know Camdyn better than anyone. Better than Callie, better than her teammates, better than anyone at UW. “Holy fuck, Callie,” I snap, annoyed she keeps acting like I’m doing this shit on purpose. “I see it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she whisper-shouts, looking around to see if anyone is watching us. They’re not.

“I can’t explain it in a way that’ll make sense. The pressure for me is different than for her.”

“Jaxon, I get it. I think. None of it makes sense. And to me, her friends, it looks like you’re using her for sex.”

“We’re not?—”

“Babes, I’m her best friend. I know you guys were hooking up all summer until a couple weeks ago.”

She’s not wrong about the hooking up. Honestly, I knew Callie knew. She walked in on us about a month ago and got a brief glimpse of my dick. Thankfully she hasn’t mentioned it since then.

She tosses her pencil at my face. “So yeah, stop hurting her.”

The pencil hits my chin and bounces off the laminate table and onto the linoleum floor. Like most classrooms in Mackenzie Hall, it’s all function, no charm—fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, whiteboards spanning three walls, and rows of tables in a semicircle facing the projector screen. The windows along the east wall would usually offer a view of Drumheller Fountain, but today they’re streaked with rain, making the morning feel even more gray.

I lean over, pick up the pencil and hand it to her. “I’m not using her, Callie. I have every intention of being with her forever. I see myself marrying her, having babies, a family, all that. Ican’t give that to her right now. That kind of commitment and baseball—it’s too much right now.”

Around us, other students filter in, shaking off umbrellas and pulling out laptops. The low hum of pre-class chatter fills the room, but it feels distant, like everything exists outside the bubble of this conversation. Professor Blaine is writing “Supply and Demand Equilibrium” on the whiteboard, but the words might as well be in another language right now.

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