Page 22 of The Way We Swing

Gavin went to his bag; he pulled his underwear down to moon Easton while he was bending over to find a pair of shorts.

“Pull those things up,” Easton laughed. “You’re a little perv.”

“I’m thirteen, I can do what I want!” Gavin said. He jumped back in bed next to Easton, finally clothed. Easton got behind Gavin and began slowly massaging his shoulders.

I stared at Easton’s hands on Gavin’s shoulders. I looked away, trying not to think about what it’d feel like to haveEaston’s hands on me. Heat crawled up my neck anyway, like I’d sat too close to the sun. Too close to my rule.

Easton’s voice snapped me out of my trance. “Gavin looks passed out,” he said, slipping out from behind him. He moved to my bed without asking. My body rested against the headboard. He grabbed a pillow and laid on his back, his head near my feet. “Are you going to fall asleep on me, too?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. That sun was rough.”

“Tanner, we’ve played in the heat all summer. We only sat in a chair today.”

“Cheering for Gavin is hard work,” I said.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Easton said. “You’re a good brother, Tanner.”

“You’re really good with him, too.”

The air conditioner buzzed. He didn’t say anything, just shifted his head against the pillow and looked at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you came with us,” I added. “He loves having you around.” I hesitated. “I like having you around.”

Easton’s eyes darted to mine before we both looked away. I told myself it meant nothing. And then I told myself not to hope.

Easton ended up rolling over; as much as he made fun of me for being tired, he fell asleep before I did.

An hour later, a phone call from Coach Messina woke me; he was asking if we were ready to go to dinner.

We met everybody in the lobby. Gavin, who seemed to be rejuvenated from his nap, joined his teammates while Easton and I joined Coach Messina and his wife, Rose.

Over burgers and fries, we talked baseball for an hour. I told Coach Messina about our team, and he shared stories from decades past of kids long grown, their names faded but the players themselves still sharp in his memory. Easton leaned in, asking about different strategies, eager to learn. I sat back for a while, letting their conversation fill the space around me, content just to listen and take it all in.

We returned to the hotel for the night, and almost instantly, the alarm clock was ringing. I managed to wake everyone up, and, twelve hours later, we arrived back at the hotel at 9 p.m. with three more wins under our belt. Mercifully, the third game had been quick, and we’d be able to get some sleep.

Within an hour of returning to the room, we had all showered, and Gavin fell asleep shortly after getting into bed to watch SportsCenter.

“Throw some shoes on,” Easton whispered. He led me to the elevator as I texted Gavin to let me know if he woke up.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Easton hit the lobby button. The elevator was empty except for a handrail running along its walls. My reflection stared back at me from a mirror on the right.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t tired and thought we might go for a walk.”

“Cool,” I said. Most of my nerves around Easton had dissipated over the summer, but there were times when it was just the two of us that sweat started to leak onto my skin.

We stepped outside the hotel; a small breeze hit us, and Easton shivered. The coolness of the air was a nice contrast to the temperatures of the last two days, but mixed with the chills I was feeling with Easton, I wished I had packed a sweater.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” I said. “You turn seventeen in April. Shouldn’t you be going into your junior year?”

Easton laughed the laugh I loved so much—the one that seemed like his whole body was into it. “I failed kindergarten.”

“What do you mean you failed kindergarten?”

“I kind of thought I was a tiger,” he said. I snorted as he continued, “I went into class one week and started roaring at the teacher, and I’d walk around on all fours. Turns out, they don’t let you go to the first grade if you think you’re an animal.”

Our laughter hung in the cool air, words coming to neither of us. When I started to feel awkward in the silence, I said, “Nice weather we’ve got here.”Smooth.