Page 2 of Left on Base

“Cam, come on.” He pushes out a quick breath and rubs his hands together, blowing into them. “Don’t ask me something like that.”

He may not have admitted anything, but the implication hits. “Why not?”

He looks offended and I want to smack him upside the head and say, What the fuck about me, dick hole? The same way I wanted to when I saw them together this morning, him buying her coffee.

“We’re just hanging out. I don't know how I feel.”

“Oh.”

What if he does like her more? What if he falls in love with her?

I can hear my heart thumping in my chest. Strong, yet weak and fragile. Everything I am in his presence.

“It’s just...” He pauses and blows out an unsteady breath. “There are no expectations with her. It’s casual. She doesn’t want anything from me.”

I raise an eyebrow, my heart in my throat. “And I have expectations?” He’s making this worse with everything he says. A few more grounds crew start trickling from the dugout to the field, and I wonder if they can feel the tension radiating from our section of the stands.

“No. Well, yeah. I feel like all I do is hurt you and let you down. I’m always fucking everything up.”

Then don’t, dumbass.

I try to draw in a breath, hoping he won’t notice, but it shakes, and he looks at me. The morning fog has settled into a thick blanket now, making the buildings beside the field disappear completely. I know he feels the effects he has on me, but does he know I’d love to jump into the pockets of fog and disappear completely?

“Do you think she’s better for you?” I want to take it back the second I ask. My words come out pained, wavering. I’m vulnerable, my emotions on display, and I hate the advantage he has over me.

“No.” He draws in a breath. “I think it’s easier with her right now.”

“Oh.” Again, what else can I say?

“Cam,” he groans, and his head falls forward, his leg bouncing in the stadium chair next to me. The purple seat squeaks with his movement. We don’t look at each other and instead keep our eyes on the baseball field secluded in a layer of morning fog. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I picture them together this morning in the Starbucks line. I’d been playing softball in Mexico for the last week, only to return to find Jaxon talking to another girl. The pain came instantly when I saw the smile he gave her was real.

“Act like I’m telling you it’s over forever. It’s not.”

“It feels that way. It feels like you’re ending it because you want to date all of a sudden.” The sound of cleats on concrete echoes from the dugout as more players arrive.

“We agreed we would try it.” His words are quiet again, as if he doesn’t want me to hear them over the growing field maintenance noise, but says them anyway.

My body trembles, and not from the damp cold seeping through my clothes. “Yeah.”

“It’s just for right now.” His voice is soft, almost a mumble. “It’s not forever.”

“It’s been going on a year. Someday I’m going to stop waiting around for you, Jaxon.” A rock flung from the lawnmower in right field clinks against a railing, making me flinch.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I keep putting it off because I don’t want to hurt you even more. And if I know you’re sad, I’m not going to do this. It makes it harder.”

“Harder?” I draw in a shaky breath, trying to control the wave of emotions drowning me. The morning chill isn’t helping—my whole body feels frozen, inside and out. “Why? Why does it even matter what I want anymore?”

“It always matters. I don’t want to hurt you, Camdyn.”

Too late.

“You know, we were together last week,” I remind him, feeling even more confused. “Remember?”

Had he forgotten the insanely hot sex we had in my dorm room before I left for Mexico?

“I remember.” He nods, his eyes following the path my tears make down my cheeks. The morning light catches them, making them glisten like the dew on the outfield grass. “But we talked about this and I thought we agreed we would be friends for now.”

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