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Alive in every sense of the word, Lauren put her hands on her hips. With an unflinching gaze, she challenged Sylvie.
Finally finding an outlet for her clenched fist, Sylvie punched the inside of her glove. “Let’s do this.”
Exhilarated, Lauren adjusted her position on the base. If by some off chance her cousin Andy managed to hit the ball, she’d be ready to bolt for third. Considering that he hadn’t managed to get on base before, Lauren expected to spend the inning with Sylvie.
Standing next to Sylvie, who was resting her hands on her knees ready to spring for the ball, she smirked. Maybe the softball game wasn’t such a stupid exercise after all.
Buzzingand dripping with venom like a million wasps had stung her at once, Sylvie focused on the batter. Judging from prior experience, the scrawny guy at the plate wouldn’t pose much of a threat, but she needed to escape Lauren’s presence.
“Beautiful day to lose, huh?” Lauren droned. The mistress of the stinging insects unleashed another swarm.
Sylvie tried to ignore her but she was only human. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy losing. There’s comfort in routine, right?”
Lauren’s throaty laugh was a finger in her eye. Sylvie buried her hand in her glove, grinding her fist into the warm leather.
“It’s good to see you’ve stuck to your guns. Maintained that delusional personality all these years. I’m glad you took all that advice scribbled in your yearbook and didn’t change for no one,” Lauren taunted.
Rolling her eyes, Sylvie shifted her weight from one bent leg to the other. As soon as she did, her backside ached, reminding her of the bruise she’d probably have later. Lauren was forever a figurative pain in her ass and now she’d made it literal too.
She’d never wished for a Machado hit, but right then she’d take a home run if it got Lauren away from her.
“You’re such a child,” Sylvie spit like the words were covered in dirt.
“Says the thirty-something adult who blocked the plate.”
“Get over yourself. It was an accident,” Sylvie shot back, annoyed that the batter struck out without moving Lauren to third base. The inning was determined to last forever. Some kind of cosmic punishment.
Lauren laughed again. Everything was always so freaking funny to her. “Sylvia Aracely Campos doesn’t do anything by accident. What good villain does?”
Refusing to look back at Lauren, even when she invoked her full name like the melodramatic loser that she was, Sylvie watched the batter. “Ha! Me? The villain? I guess you see yourself as the hero in your story. Lauren Maria Machado.” She could play her stupid name game too.
“What do you see me as?”
Sylvie shot a look over her shoulder. Lauren, her dark eyes gleaming in the sun despite the baseball cap, was leaning back on her heels. With her arms crossed over her chest, it was clear that she didn’t expect the batter to hit the ball. It was like she’d forgotten they were playing a game all together.
“What?” Sylvie forgot why she’d looked at her in the first place, so she saved face by putting an irritated spin on her question.
Lauren’s full lips quirked, exposing the dimples that would’ve been lethal to her resolve if she found her the least bit attractive. Averting her gaze to her godmother kicking at the dirt in center field, she reminded herself that she most definitely did not find that kind of thing attractive.
“In your story. Who do you see me as?” Lauren’s face shone as if she were having the time of her life.
Wishing she had one of the water bottles from the dugout, Sylvie bemoaned the scratchy dryness in her throat. Gathering herself up, she attempted to be IDGAF personified.
“I don’t see you as anything,” she explained flatly. “You don’t exist to me.”
Lauren reacted like a gleeful toddler being snatched by the tickle monster. “Oh, sure.” She let out a bark of laughter. “I take up so much space in your brain I have squatter’s rights. I’ve been there so long I have a claim to the property title.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sylvie snapped, turning her back to the pitcher’s mound. “You’re such a freaking narcissist.” Heat traveled up her neck and warmed her cheeks. “Thinking that everyone finds you so amusing. Guess what? Not everybody thinks you’re cute Lauren.” She hit the R hard and with feeling.
Dropping her arms to her sides, Lauren flashed a smirk. “I don’t know about amusing, but I certainly have you worked up.”
Before Sylvie could disabuse her of the false notion, a metal bat dinged after making contact with a ball. She spun around as Lauren tore off like a shot.
Shit!
A new batter Sylvie hadn’t noticed had managed to get a hit. Uselessly, Sylvie watched it sail over the infield and well over her godmother’s head. Even if she’d been ten feet tall there was no way she could’ve caught it.
Throwing her glove to the ground, all Sylvie could do was curse as Lauren sailed triumphantly across home plate.
Cheaters. All of them are freaking cheaters.
For the fourth year in a row, the Machados stole another victory. Drenched in sweat, her butt sore, and her skin prickling with an uncomfortable farmer’s tan, Sylvie resisted the urge to throw things.
It wasn’t fair. Nothing that involved the Machados was ever fair.
