CJ rolled his eyes. “Your goal in life is to be the most irritating person in the room, isn’t it?”
“Room, field, continent. I don’t like to limit myself.”
CJ shook his head, and they fell into an easy banter as they stretched. He barely noticed the rest of the team trickling onto the field, but when Evan stepped into his periphery on his way to the bullpen, CJ lost his focus on what he was doing. He didn’t turn his head to look. He just kept stretching his right arm acrosshis chest, nodding at something Rizzo said but not really hearing it. CJ and Evan’s greeting, when it finally came, was barely a nod. Really just a shift of the chin. Then Evan turned away and headed toward the bullpen mounds to stretch with the pitchers.
Belatedly, CJ realized Rizzo had stopped yapping to watch his short interaction with Evan, and he braced himself when Rizzo made a noise low in his throat.
“That,” he declared, pointing between CJ and Evan with a dramatic flourish, drawing the eyes of a couple of the guys nearby. Rizzo had sense enough to lower his voice before continuing, “That has BDE written all over it.”
“Jesus, fuck,” CJ said on a sigh. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Big Divorce Energy,” Rizzo said with a smug smile as he tossed a baseball from hand to hand. “My parents had it for a while too.”
“Please stop talking.”
“Like, not fresh divorce,” Rizzo continued, ignoring CJ completely. “More like five years post-divorce, but you’re both still pretending to hate the fact that you share custody of the dog.”
“I swear to God?—”
“Also, you both still have feelings, but neither of you can say it because it would be a whole thing?—”
CJ grabbed the baseball out of Rizzo’s hand and chucked it toward the infield. “Fetch.”
Rizzo jogged after it without shame. “See? This is why I like you. You’re fun in the mornings.”
CJ didn’t trust himself to answer.
A full weekpassed before Rizzo brought it up again. A full week where CJ naively and stupidly let himself believe that the other man had dropped the interrogation. CJ could see now how suspicious it was that Rizzo had gone completely quiet about Evan after that first conversation on the field. He figured Rizzo had taken the hint, or forgotten, or the universe had finally gifted CJ a small mercy. For seven days, Rizzo talked about everythingexceptEvan. He brought up batting practice, new protein bar flavors, and the number of scorpions he suspected were living near Field 3. He cracked jokes during drills, chirped at pitchers when he hit them out of the park, and dragged rookies into wiffle ball competitions in the player lot to keep their minds off the cuts being made. And somehow, he found time to keep CJ laughing enough to let his guard down.
CJ should have known better. Nothing was that easy. Rizzo was a lot of things, but forgetful wasn’t one of them, and he didn’t seem like the type to be done with something just because he went quiet about it. It was disarming, actually, that someone who behaved like an overstimulated golden retriever could also be the most perceptive son of bitch in the clubhouse. And when he showed up at CJ’s locker one evening as the clubhouse began to thin out and dropped into the chair next to him, CJ’s stomach immediately clenched.
“Hey, you busy?” Rizzo’s voice was too casual, and CJ cursed as he realized Rizzo had lured him into a false sense of security.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you sound like someone who’s about to get me into some kind of trouble?”
“Wow. Hurtful.” Rizzo clutched his chest with a fake wounded expression.
CJ didn’t buy it. “What do you want?”
“What if I just want some quality time with my new best friend?” Rizzo asked innocently. “Is that a crime now? ShouldI let legal know?” CJ stared at him, and Rizzo dropped the act. “Come on. Let’s get food.”
“No,” CJ said, grabbing his shoes. “Absolutely not. You’re planning something, and I don’t want to be involved.”
“I’m planning tacos,” Rizzo said with a roll of his eyes. “And maybe a drink. And maybe some light emotional bonding if the opportunity arises.”
“No,” CJ repeated.
Rizzo sighed dramatically, then lowered his voice as he leaned closer to CJ. “CJ, man…you haven’t gone out once since camp started. All you do is come to practice and go back to your motel. I’m worried you’re going to become one with the carpet in your room.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” CJ sounded snippy even to himself.
“Doesn’t it?” Rizzo tilted his head. “Because I swear to God you had carpet fuzz on your shorts yesterday.”
“You’re so fucking weird.” CJ dragged a hand down his face before glaring at Rizzo. “You just want to continue our conversation from last week, even though there’s nothing going on, and we agreed you wouldn’t bring this up again.”
“No, you threw a ball and told me to fetch, and then changed the subject so I wouldn’t keep talking about it.” Rizzo smiled. “That doesn’t mean I agreed to drop it.”
“You pretended to let it go so I’d let my guard down.”
