CJ’s mouth tilted wryly. “It’s…a trip. Like you said, we played in college together and then spent a couple of years chasing each other up the ranks of the minors. But I never thought we’d end up in the same clubhouse again.”
“What was it like playing together in college?” This came from a national reporter.
“Anyone who watched college ball back then knows CJ covered half the outfield himself,” Evan said, shifting on his stool. His knee nudged CJ’s thigh with a small, accidental, devastating touch.
“And Evan was such a steadying presence behind the plate. He’s always been able to calm pitchers down and bring their focus back to where it’s needed.” CJ swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.
“And off the field?” The reporter continued before anyone else could jump in. “Were you two close?”
CJ went very still, and Margo took a step toward them, pausing when Evan raised his hand slightly to stop her.
“It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t look at CJ when he said it.
“We were roommates on road trips,” Evan continued. “We spent too many hours in film rooms and batting cages, ate way too much gas station food, pulled all-nighters on buses studying for tests. When you’re trying to get drafted, you latch onto the guys who are grinding just as hard.”
CJ wondered how long he’d had that answer ready.
Someone on Zoom chimed in, voice tinny through computer speakers. “CJ, anything you remember about Evan from those days that still describes him now?”
Too many things, CJ thought.
“He’s stubborn,” CJ said. Next to him, Evan’s head whipped around. “In the way you want your teammates to be. He never quits on a game or a play or a person. He’s the guy you want in your corner if your back’s against the wall.”
Evan’s breath stuttered so quietly that CJ knew no one else noticed, but he couldn’t look at him.
A voice rose from the back of the room. “This is a big narrative online: college teammates, drafted the same year and now reunited as veterans. Is it emotional? Nostalgic? Weird?”
Evan let out a half-laugh. “A little of everything?” He looked at CJ, who nodded in agreement. “When you’re twenty, you have all these big dreams about making the show and maybe even getting there with your best friend. Then baseball does what baseball does, and suddenly, you’re on different teams, in different leagues, and all the moving parts make it hard to stay in touch. And eventually you figure the window’s closed on the dreams you had as a kid.” He shrugged, knee bouncing faster. “So yeah. It’s surreal. And it’s not something I’m taking for granted.”
CJ’s pulse skipped.
“So, no awkwardness?” someone else asked.
CJ shot the guy a look and rolled his eyes. “It’s spring training. Awkwardness is part of the package for everyone.” Therest of the room laughed, and Margo looked relieved as another reporter jumped in.
“One more for Evan. Last season, you spoke about your first year in the league, and you mentioned learning some lessons the hard way. Does that experience change how you see reunions like this? Old teammates now veterans together?”
Evan kept his expression neutral. “I think it makes you appreciate longevity. The fact that we’re both still here, competing at a high level? That’s the part that matters. We took different paths, but we kept showing up. That’s the reunion story.”
Margo clapped her hands together. “And that’s our time. Thank you both.”
She motioned for them to stay put while the reporters packed away their cameras and recorders and slowly filtered out of the room. The moment the last reporter cleared the doorway, Margo swooped in and plucked the microphones from their hands.
“You guys were fantastic,” she gushed, already tucking the mics into her back pocket. “Seriously, they were thrilled to be able to talk to you together. The college reunion angle is absolute gold. We’ve got so much planned for you two this season. It’s going to be so much fun.”
Based on the way she said “fun,” CJ was pretty sure she was going to schedule them for photo shoots and interviews until they dropped. Before he could ask, she waved vaguely in their direction and swept out of the room, eyes glued to her phone, typing with the speed of someone who lived on caffeine and adrenaline.
CJ slid off his stool, joints cracking after sitting so stiffly. He shot a sideways glance at Evan, half-smiling. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Evan stood with a quiet groan, rolling one shoulder. “Wait until the articles come out.”
CJ’s mouth twitched with badly contained amusement. “I can see the headlines now.Barracudas’ Golden Boys College Reunion, probably with some old photo they dug up where we look like we’re twelve.”
Evan groaned. “Fuck. You’re probably right.”
CJ laughed because he could already picture the exact photos: baby-faced, awkward, freshman-year versions of themselves, with forced smiles and uniforms they didn’t quite fill out yet. “You know they’re gonna use the one from that preseason tournament. The one where your hair was?—”
“Don’t,” Evan warned, pointing at him.
