Page 112 of The Friend Scheme
I get into position, moving my foot forward. And then I swing. The baseball makes a really nice sound, and it lifts off. It doesn’t go much farther than last time, but itfelta lot better.
“You’re a natural,” he says.
“Don’t be condescending.”
“I’m not.”
I give him my best death stare.
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe I was, just a little.”
I laugh. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done, if you’re such a pro?”
“I can do that. Prepare to eat your words, Miller.”
I hand him the bat, and he walks up to the tee. I put down a ball and then stand behind him. His stare fixes, and he goes through the motions once. Then he gets into position, and swings.
Thwack.
The ball goes flying, up and into the darkness. If it were a real game it’d have to be a home run. He’s so good, it’s hot as hell.
I whistle. “How do you do that?”
“Practice.” He strides up to me. “Lots and lots of practice. You impressed?”
“I am, actually.”
We take turns hitting for a while, breaking the hits up by drinking beer. It honestly feels like another perfect night. I’m starting to like the taste. Soon, I’m pretty drunk, and am barely focused on hitting the ball. I’m concentrating on Jason, and how cute and hot he is. He loves baseball so much, it’s infectious. And his shirt fits snuggly against him. His muscles… I must say, they’re so great. He’s sweaty now, making his shirt slightly transparent, and it’s stuck to his back. I find myself staring at his lower back, at the muscles around his spine.
So hot.
Once we’ve hit all the balls in the bag, I go to retrieve them. I collect them all and then make my way up to him.
He smiles. “I’m just going to go grab something, give me a second?”
“Okay?”
He goes back to his car. I sit down on the first row of the bleachers and pull out my phone. Cassidy has sent me a link to a cat-fails video she thinks I should watch. I know I’ll like it, but later.
Jason returns, and he’s holding a picnic rug.
“Is this weird?” he asks. “I was thinking we might lie down on it or something? I thought it could be fun, but we don’t have to.”
“I love it,” I say. “I mean, it’s not weird at all. Same wavelengths, remember?”
“Right.”
He throws the rug down in the middle of the diamond. And then we both just stand there.
It’s not very big.
“I guess we should just lie down?” he says.
“Yeah, I guess.”
So we do.
We’re both on our backs, looking up at the night sky. Our bodies are sort of angled, so we’re leaning in toward each other. Our hands are inches apart.
