Page 12 of Game On

“Just shut up,” I tell her as we climb the bleachers closest to us. We go all the way to the top and away from everyone else. It’s such a beautiful day out that I actually have fun eating my ice cream and watching Rockport. Alec is the only one of the Ballers who plays another sport. Frankly, I’m surprised the rest of them let him. Chance of injury is high, made even more so when participating in this game isn’t even mandatory. A few of the baseball teams in our division, including Rockport, participate in a quarter season that starts in August. It’s to bridge the gap between the previous playoffs and next year’s opener. If Alec gets injured in these games, he won’t have time to recover for basketball.

I look over at Dawn to find her staring at Christopoulos. He’s the third baseman, and we really do have a tremendous view of his ass. “Do you even know what’s going on?” I ask her.

“Does it matter?” she says softly. “I’m looking at sweet perfection.” She finishes her ice cream and then rubs her hands against one another. “You can’t tell me you’re not attracted to that.”

A shiver runs up my spine. I’d have to be blind to not be attracted to that, or any of them. I only second-guess my sanity when they’re being so cruel I can’t stand it.

“Come on,” Dawn says, elbowing me. “You can tell me.”

I look over at her. She’s the only friend I have at Rockport. She might be the only friend I have right now period since I can’t get Tiff to text me back. I look into Dawn’s blue eyes, needing to make sure she’s not messing with me.No, I finally say to myself.There’s no way. Dawn and I met before the Ballers even knew I was attending their high school. She’s safe. “He’s hot. They’re all hot. The problem is they know it.”

Dawn looks back around and we both watch as Alec catches a flyball to end the inning. At least, that’s what I watch. I have no idea if Dawn even knows what he’s doing. And, like she says, she doesn’t care. “Vanity isn’t all together sexy,” she finally says. “But confidence is. The Ballers have that in spades.”

“Swagger,” I agree.

She makes a guttural groan in the back of her throat. I agree completely. I was an awkward middle schooler at basketball camp, but it seemed as if Ryan, Alec, Lake, Sloan, and Hayes had moves before they’d even known what to truly do with them. If that didn’t give me a complex, I wouldn’t know what would. Maybe that’s partly the reason why I still look up to them, as ridiculous as it may sound.

One second my brain is saying fuck them, the next, I literally want to fuck them.

I roll my eyes at myself. I sound like Dawn now.

“Do you really think that rumor about them not dating is true?” Dawn asks.

“You’ve seen girls all over them,” I tell her. I finish my ice cream and use the napkin I got from the Scoops counter to get rid of any evidence. “Why would they?”

A familiar voice draws my attention to the bottom center of the stands. It’s the rest of the Ballers. The same girl who was hanging over Ryan in the cafeteria is currently on his lap, kissing a line down his neck. I try not to get jealous, but red-hot heat falls over me anyway. Each of the guys has a girl with them. Lake’s sucking face with one, his hand dipped precariously just inside her shorts. Another girl has her head on Hayes’ shoulder while his arm is draped over her casually. Sloan and his girl are a little less show and tell. He taps the edge of her nose and smiles. Every remnant of the sneer he gave me earlier is completely gone.

My stomach churns. I tell myself I don’t want to be those girls, but at the same time, I’m looking at them like I would trade places with them. My head is so fucked up I don’t even know where to start brushing the tangles out. It’s ridiculous that no matter how mean they are to me, I still want to be a part of them. Maybe it’s my own determination not to let the patriarchy win. I should be down there with them, not as the trophy hanging off their arm, but as an equal.

I smile to myself. That’s exactly why I’m jealous. I don’t want to fawn over them. I want to be one of them.

The crowd cheers, and I look up to find Alec walking toward home plate, taking practice swings with his bat. Butterflies erupt in my stomach. The guys and girls below us stand, yelling encouragement at him. Well, the guys are yelling encouragement. The girls are just screaming.

But beyond that, my heart starts to flutter. It’s so close to basketball season I can feel the need to play, to walk out on the court just like Alec’s walking up to home plate right now. No wonder why he wants to play these extra baseball games as well as basketball. Playing sports is like a drug. It’s an obsession, for sure, but a drug if you’re any good at it. Competition. Camaraderie. Nothing beats a game. I take a quick peek at the scoreboard and see that the Warriors are down by a run. My leg jumps up and down. My hands itch to clap.Come on, Alec, I’m saying inside my head.You got this.

He most certainly does, too. First pitch, Alec’s first swing. He nails it. The second I hear the crack of the bat; I know it’s a good hit. I follow the ball’s arc through the sky and jump up when it goes over the fence. On instinct, I clap and yell as Alec rounds the bases. Dawn’s right next to me. She knows enough about the sport to understand Alec’s just done something amazing.

Alec rounds second and looks up into the crowd. His gaze swings up and connects with mine. His eyes flash with ice before he sweeps his stare right past me and to the rest of the Ballers and their cronies. Then, he throws his hand in the air in a fist pump before stepping on third and heading home.

My hands have frozen mid-clap. I sit as ice settles in my spine from the way he completely looked right through me like I’m nothing. Like I’m worse than nothing. If I was a casual observer, I’d never know that me and this guy—all the guys—have a history together.

“Ready to go?” Dawn asks. She’s still standing, but she looks down at me with a frown.

“Yeah,” I tell her. So ready.

8

After I drop Dawn off, I drive through the small town. The high school is empty now. There are only a few families walking the sidewalks away from the fields. I can’t shake the need unfurling inside me. Thank God basketball season is almost here. Hell, Sign-Ups is tomorrow.

I pull down the side street next to the school and take the road all the way back. I pass the baseball field to my left and keep going. Right after, there’s the track. I pull to the side of the road like I used to do with my dad. Surprisingly, there’s no one on it right now. I couldn’t even count the number of times someone came up to my dad while we were on this track training with one another. Maybe I even came down here expecting him to be here. Neither Mom nor I know where he is right now. It’s almost like he has a secret life we’re not privy to.

I push the car door open and move around to the trunk where I always keep an extra bag with a set of workout clothes and shoes. Grabbing the essentials, I slide into the backseat and do a quick change. It’s crazy how I’ve perfected this over the years. I’m easily the most talented girl out there at changing without showing any skin. Easily.

That’s what happens when you’re a girl who plays with a bunch of boys.

When I’m done, I push the backseat open and put on my track shoes. I may have lied about having only one pair of extra shoes in the trunk. I have running shoes, basketball shoes—that are separate from game and practice shoes—and one general pair of sneakers. In case.

After grabbing my phone from the passenger seat, I lock the car up and head toward the track. On the way there, I shoot my mom a quick text that I’m out running. She’ll understand. She always tells me that whatever crazy drive my dad has for basketball, I inherited it too. We’ve been known to wake up in the middle of the night to shoot baskets. There’s just something about it that’s calming.

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