Page 92 of Left on Base

murder those sun devils for me yesterday?

I delete it before sending.

She needs sleep more than my random thoughts. Instead, I shoot off:

on the bus

text when you’re up

“You know,” Jameson says, somehow still talking, “between your stalker journalist and Cam, you’ve got quite the—OW!” He rubs his head where my protein bar nailed him. “Uncalled for.”

“So is your existence, but here we are.”

I close my eyes, letting the bus and the bullshit fade. My phone buzzes again—probably the team chat, but I check anyway.

Camdyn

bring me back In-N-Out or don’t come back at all

I grin, typing back:

i gotchu

“Yo,” King is suddenly standing in the aisle, staring at me. “When freshie falls asleep, grab his phone and take a pic of your cock.”

I stare at King. You think he’s joking. He’s definitely not.

“Why?” I finally ask, because I know he won’t leave unless I do.

He shrugs and leans into the seat in front of me. “Why not?”

I look back at my phone. “Because I don’t want my dick on his phone.”

“He won’t know it’s yours.” He raises an eyebrow and winks. “Or will he?”

“Fuck off.” I kick his shin. “You do it.”

“Nah.” He flops down next to Ollie, probably trying to talk him into it.

I’ve said it before—Kingston’s fucking weird. Wildcard. You never know what mood he’ll show up in, and unfortunately, it sets the tone for the team. If he’s in a bad mood, we all feel it.

Today, he’s in a good mood, so maybe this twelve-hour bus ride won’t suck too much.

The USC lockerroom hits different when you’re the visiting team. Everything’s too red, too polished, too... them. But it’s the massive poster of Camdyn outside the locker room that stops me dead. There she is, larger than life, frozen mid-pitch at last year’s College World Series finals—form perfect, as always. The Trojans went all out for their Super Nationals promo.

I want to rip it off the wall. Why the fuck do they have that outside the baseball locker room? So their guys can stare at her?

The thought makes me want to puke.

“Gawdamnnn.” Nash whistles, dropping his gear bag with a thud. “Cam’s looking bad as fuck on that wall.”

I pretend to busy myself with my cleats, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. I know how good Camdyn looks in her uniform. She looks even better out of it.

The rest of the guys file in, a few pausing to stare at that poster. Yeah, she’s breathtaking in uniform. Trust me, I’m painfully aware half the conference has probably daydreamed about her. The idea of Nash looking at her like that sends a spike of anger through my chest.

He says something to Ollie I don’t catch, then smirks at me. “You still hitting that, Jax?” Nash jerks his chin at Cam’s poster. “Or is she finally available for the rest of us on the roster?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, buying time. “What do you mean?”

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