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SEBASTIAN
As it turns out,the world doesn’t automatically change after you decide something life-altering about yourself. In the days since I decided to quit baseball, I’ve gone to practice, made pierogi from scratch, watched three more movies with Mia (This Means War,Contact, andClueless), played a double-header in Connecticut, gone to Red’s with Hunter, Rafael, Cooper, and Evan, and researched—however briefly—cooking programs in Europe. I also tried to make soufflé, but that was the biggest failure since my infamous creme brûlée debacle. I need to brush up on my baking skills. Maybe I should bring a dessert to Mia’s family’s barbecue tomorrow.
On second thought, poisoning my hopefully future in-laws would not be a smart move.
I also need to figure out how the fuck to talk about leaving baseball. There have been some good opportunities, but whenever I’m alone with someone and the words are on the tip of my tongue, I always find an excuse to keep my mouth shut. I want to tell Mia first, get her thoughts before I approach my family, but she’s been so busy working on her presentation for the symposium, I haven’t wanted to press. When she texted me earlier, asking me to rescue her from the lab, I nearly whooped aloud.
Now, she stares at the rows of brightly packaged junk food with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “What happened to the importance of eating real meals? You went on a rant yesterday about why everyone should be buying organic eggs.”
I adjust my baseball cap. On the way to the lab, I made a plan. A nighttime adventure, complete with truth or dare. If she gives me a truth, I’ll give her one too. The right one, the only one I’ve been able to think about ever since I made the decision.
It’s the right one, but I need her support if I’m going to make it happen.
I nudge her hip with mine. “Balance is the key to a happy life.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie.”
“Thank you.”
She rolls her eyes. “This is your big plan? Stock up on snacks?”
“It’s not the whole plan. Where we’re going, we’ll need sustenance.”
“Which is where?”
“It’s a secret, obviously.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re being unusually cryptic.”
“For example, I’m weak for Doritos.” I throw a bag of them into the basket. It took a little effort to find a store that was open this late, but we managed it in the form of a 24-hour drugstore just outside downtown Moorbridge. We’re the only ones here besides the woman behind the counter, who is busy playing TikToks on her phone at full volume, and a guy making a cup of coffee the next aisle over. “I’m also partial to Raisinets.”
Her nose wrinkles cutely. I’d kiss her, but considering the mood I found her in, it’s probably best to give her time to decompress first. It’s corny to say, but she goes to another planet when she works. I still don’t know why she’s been lying to her folks about what she’s studying, but I’m hoping she lets me in on that tonight, since I’m meeting them tomorrow. My family is complicated, but Mia’s seems to be on a completely different level.
“Raisinets?” she says. “What are you, a hundred years old?”
“I’ve been told I have an old soul.”
She gives me a little shove, reaching out to throw a box of Junior Mints into the basket. “If you’re going to buy candy, at least go for something good.”
“What about the Doritos? How are we feeling?”
“The Doritos are acceptable.” She walks to the refrigerated section. “The soda pick is what will make you or break you, Seb. You’re already on thin ice with the Raisinets, so choose wisely.”
“Oh, it’s Dr. Pepper. No contest.”
Her mouth drops open. “Can I revoke our relationship on the basis of irreconcilable differences?”
I reach around her to add a bottle of Dr. Pepper to the basket. “No take backs. That’s not how it works.”
She tucks a bottle of Coke underneath her arm. “Maybe I wouldn’t have given in if I knew there was no way out.”
I back her against the refrigerator door. She shivers, but keeps that smirk on her face. From the first fucking moment, I could sense that Mia is the kind of person who would rather die than back down once she’s made up her mind about something. The trick is to surprise her, to get under her skin in a way she can’t ignore. She might be toying with me, but she has her own weaknesses. Poking her—so she’ll poke me back, and we can tussle—makes me feel alive in a way I never have before.
So I kiss her.
And like every other time, there’s a split-second of surprise. I hope that never goes away, it’s too fucking cute. I feel her frown against my own lips, and then her smile as she winds her arms around me. The cold Coke digs in between my shoulder blades. “Brat,” I murmur. “You said you love me. I heard it.”
“Excuse me,” someone says.
