Page 66 of Left on Base

yes?

That bomb won’t be the only thing I’m hitting tonight

Oh my God.

I press my lips together, trying not to smile like a psycho. His cross is warm against my neck, like it knows.

“Now that’s my brother being smooth,” Emerson laughs in my face. “I can tell by how red your ears are.”

This time when I kick, I don’t miss.

“Sooo.” Emerson leans in. “It’s going better than you let on.”

I smile and flip my phone. “Just friends still.”

“Bitch, whatever. He’s texting you and I saw him looking at you in the stands. That’s not just friends.”

Wait. Is she serious? What kind of looks was he giving me? Yes, I’m asking you, because I didn’t see any besides glances.

I look down at Jaxon’s texts.

There’s a spot for me in his life, and I don’t know what it means yet, but I know it’s there.

CHAPTER 11

PLATE APPEARANCE

CAMDYN

A stat that records every time an offensive player finishes their at-bat, no matter what the outcome.

It takes hours before another text comes through from Jaxon, and Callie ditches me. I end up meeting him outside the athletic hall, where the brick building towers against the night, its windows glowing like eyes in the darkness.

Nervously, I wait as the players file out. Jameson and Kingston both high-five me in passing. We don’t say anything, but it’s nice to be acknowledged.

Jaxon comes out with two other guys I don’t know. They part ways in the parking lot and Jaxon smiles when he sees me. He’s clearly showered and celebrated with his team—his hair’s still damp, curling at the ends, and he’s got that post-victory energy radiating off him.

He tosses a ball to me, and I catch it, the leather warm and slightly scuffed. “What’s this?”

“Home run ball.” He winks, and my stomach does that stupid flip again. Ugh. Why is he so cute? “It’s the grand slam one.”

“Oh, that’s cool they gave it to you.” They rarely hand out game balls for home runs. I turn it over in my hand, remembering another ball from years ago. The memory makes my chest tight. “I can’t believe you hit a grand slam!”

His face is flushed with excitement, his eyes bright and alive in a way that makes it hard to look directly at him because I’ll fall in love with him. Oh, yeah. Too late. “Pretty tough, huh?”

“So tough.” I laugh, and he smiles—a real one, not those careful ones he’s been giving lately. The parking lot lights catch his features, turning him golden, and for a moment I see what everyone else sees: the star athlete, the campus hero. But they don’t know him like I do. They don’t understand the raw talent burning inside him, even though tonight they all got a glimpse. There’s so much more to him.

I hold out the ball to him. “When did you change your walk-up song?”

“Mmm.” There’s a smirk playing on his lips, his cheeks still flushed as he pushes the ball back toward me. “Last week?”

I nod, my smile growing wider. “It’s the same as mine.”

He pulls me in by my hips, his hands warm through my leggings. “I know.”

“Don’t you want this home run ball?”

“I want you to have it.”

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