Page 15 of The Way We Swing

“Really?”

“Hell no.”

Then in the outfield, a football thudded against Silas’s chest and bounced to the ground.

“Nice catch, princess!” Maddux shouted. “Did your boyfriend teach you that?”

Laughter. It was just noise to them—a throwaway line, really. But it confirmed what I’d known for ages—that there was zero chance they’d accept me being gay.

I saw Easton’s jaw shift slightly, just for a second.

I pretended to adjust my cleat. I didn’t look at anyone, but these comments weren’t unique. They were why I had to hide who I was. In the minds of my teammates—my best friends—being gay meant being weak, second rate, inadequate.

Zach’s gaze lingered on me as I processed the comment. “Let’s head back to the dugout,” he said. “Time to take game two.”

The second game went much better than the first. We started off the top of the first with five straight hits, including a bases-clearing double by Maddux.

We tacked on some insurance runs and won 9-2, so my mood was much better when we left the field.

Easton and I walked toward the Durango, our bat bags strung over our shoulders. Zach was still talking to Coach Berrios; he had screwed up a couple of signals, and they both wanted to make sure they were on the same page before they left the field.

The sound of cleats on the gravel echoed everywhere as I opened my trunk.

“You were right,” Easton said.

“About what?”

“The lineup. The positions. Everything, really.” He tossed his bag in then looked back at me. “You really do have a PhD in Coach Berrios.”

“Told you.” I smiled at him. The door handles clicked open, and we entered the car. The sun had been pounding into the car all afternoon, making it feel like a hotbox.

“I keep thinking I have to prove something. Every practice and now in the games. Prove that I belong to you. To Coach.” His voice was soft.

“Well, you proved something today,” I said. “Three doubles, and that one in the fifth was an absolute missile.”

His eyes left me, drifting out the window. “It’s still as if I’m just borrowing someone’s spot. Like I’m a rental.”

“It takes time,” I said. “You’re going to be one of us—I already feel like you are. The other guys are getting there, too.”

He paused before finally meeting my eyes. His eye black was smudged, and sweat streaked down his face. He looked exhausted, but there was something raw in his expression. “Thanks, bro,” he mumbled. “I don’t think this would work without you.”

I wanted to say more—that he already had a space in my world, even off the field. But how do you say that to another guy without saying something more? As Maddux’s offhanded comment had proven, saying more was impossible.

Zach broke the silence when he opened the back hatch and yelled at Easton for taking shotgun. They bickered all the way home.

My brain looped with the same questions that had filled it since Easton had shown up.

How did he make my heart race this much without even touching me?

Why did it terrify me that he’d never notice?

Why did it terrify me even more that he would?

CHAPTER 6

Fourth of July finally came, and I couldn’t have been more excited. Our small town came alive on this holiday. There were events all day, and adrenaline filled me at the thought of Easton being part of it all.

The day started with the annual wiffle ball tournament at the softball field. Anyone could play as long as they attended that morning’s workout. It had been the most attended workout for the last three years.