Page 7 of Meet Me Under the Lights

He shrugged. “Just think it’s funny that a farmer put together a team. What’s he know about baseball, anyway?”

“A hell of a lot more than you. He and his brother helped build Crowley Park.”

“Yeah?” He smacked his friend’s shoulder to get his attention. “Then why’s it not called Fulton Park?”

I didn’t have time for this kind of shit.

I moved toward the sliding door, and he quickly hurried to block my path.

“Oh shit. I knew I recognized you. Weren’t you the kid who blew it at the UNC showcase last year?”

I clenched my fists. A low ringing hissed through my ears.

Caveman, Cop Guy’s friend, joined in. “I heard he didn’t make it past the first round.”

“You guys play?” I asked.

“Left field.” Caveman straightened up and pointed to Cop Guy. “He plays first.”

“Reed!” Ben yelled, throwing open the door. “What’s good?”

I kept staring at the idiots in front of me.

“New friends?” Ben asked, getting in between us before he slapped the cop’s gut. “You lost a few buttons there, officer.”

Oil, meet my friend Fire. “These guys play for the Crowley team, Ben.”

“No shit?” Ben lifted up his mask. At five-foot-ten, he stood a couple of inches shorter than me, but he towered over both of them. “You two can actually run the bases?”

“Better than you.” Caveman took a step closer.

Ha. Ben had the fastest time in the sixty-yard dash last season back home.

“Bet.” Ben smiled and grabbed Caveman’s drink before he slowly poured the beer onto the deck.

Caveman grabbed Ben’s collar.

Cop Guy and I stepped closer, fists out, but then a couple of girls called out to the Crowley crew. One of them hurried over and started to drag them both away. “You’ll regret that,” Caveman said.

“Nah, I won’t.” Ben waved at both of them before turning to me. “I’m gonna go grab one more drink and then we’ll head out. You good?”

I watched Eliza ease into one of the swings, then said, “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

After Ben went inside, I shoved my hands into my pockets and strolled across the yard toward the swing set.

Eliza looked up from her phone and sighed. “Are you following me?”

“Nope. Just needed some air.” I sat on the swing next to hers.

“Was the air not good enough on the deck?”

“Actually, no. I hate the smell of pot.”

“Same.” She went back to reading on her phone.

I twisted my swing back and forth. “If you’re so bored, why not leave?”

“Can’t.”