We head out early on Saturday morning, hoping to get to the park around nine. The drive is about two and a half hours from Camp Prairie Star. We take Brynn’s crossover SUV, the group winnowed down to Matt, Brynn, Olivia, and me after a couple more coworkers ditched last minute.
Brynn’s driving, with Matt beside her in the front seat. Olivia and I are in the back, and, according to Matt, are way too animated for this early in the morning.
“It’s annoying,” I insist again to Olivia, “how in soccer games you never really know when it’s going to end because the timer counts up instead of down.”
“You know when it ends! Each half is forty-five minutes. When the clock gets to forty-five—”
I interrupt, “It could still be another ten to fifteen minutes of this stoppage time. Nobody knows!”
She laughs. “Yes, the referees know.”
“But they don’t share that information. There’s no timer of the stoppage time that adds it up throughout the game for the spectators to see.”
“At least we have timers. In baseball, y’all don’t time anything. That’s why the games are so damn long!”
“We do now! There’s the pitch clock,” I say smugly.
She lifts her sunglasses onto the top of her head to make sure I can see the incredulity in her eyes. “You actually like the pitch clock?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She shakes her head. “I’m surprised, especially with your stance on the designated hitter.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s bringing the DH into this? “Okay, that’s a whole other thing—”
“Here he goes—”
“Back in the day—”
“Oh lord, when he starts with ‘back in the day’—”
“—every baseball player had to be good at their positionandat bat, even pitchers.”
“Wow, I really got you going now, didn’t I?”
“Don’t talk to me about the designated hitter, Olivia. You know better.”
She pats my thigh. “I do. I do know better.”
We grin at each other, and I’m tempted to kiss her right here in the back seat of Brynn’s car.
Matt turns around. “You two have the weirdest dynamic. If you’re not making out, you’re arguing.”
“We don’t argue,” I protest.
“We debate,” Olivia finishes.
“Well, whatever you call it, can you keep it down please? I’m trying to nap before we get there.”
“Sorry,” Olivia whispers.
She lays her head on my shoulder and shuts her eyes.
I smooth a hand over her shoulder. “You going to rest, too?”
She yawns. “Maybe a little.”
Putting my mouth close to her ear, I tease her. “What, did you stay up too late last night or something? What were you doing?”
