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I forget about Jake, my attention immediately snapping to her. “What isthatsupposed to mean?”
Lennon shrugs, sending me an infuriatingly serene smile. “Awfully easy to just sit on the couch and get fawned over all night.”
“Jealous, Matthews?”
“You wish, Winters,” she scoffs.
I do. I’d love to know she cares.
“I should have known that’s exactly how you’d act,” she continues. “Enjoying the attention.”
“Well, we can’t all be like you, Lennon. Not needing anything. Oranyone.” Yeah…that was the wrong thing to say. Lennon’s expression hardens into a glare.
“Come on, Winters. Let’s just head to the field. We can’t play without you.” I’m fairly certain Jake is regretting lulling me out here under false pretenses by this point.
“Maybe I didn’t want to need someone who was about to leave for who knows how long,” Lennon retorts, ignoring Jake.
“Yeah, how dare I go to college,” I snap.
Lennon breaks eye contact with me and looks at Jake. “Actually, I will play.”
I know Jake’s serious expression isn’t faked this time. He looks to me, panicked, and I know Lennon catches it. She snorts and strides back inside the house.
“Fuck,” I curse. “Let’s go.”
The couple dozen guys Jake already drafted for the game are waiting on the lawn to head over to the field, but once it becomes clear I’m playing, the house pretty much empties out.
It’s only a five-minute walk to the high school, and I’m hit with another powerful wave of nostalgia when we arrive at the baseball field.
I haven’t been back to Landry High since graduation. The sight of the brick building brings back a lot of memories. Not all of them involving baseball.
Jake designates himself one captain, and I’m offered up as the other. I pick Colt first; Jake picks Luke.
Almost everyone from Luke’s house made the trek over to the field, meaning the pool of prospects has grown with the number of spectators. Jake gives me five chances before he picks Lennon. I’m sure that’s her preference, and I’ve already experienced enough rejection from Lennon Matthews.
We grab equipment from the shed tucked between the bleachers and the school, and then the game begins. My team takes the field first, and I’m automatically designated as pitcher.
It’s strange, stepping on to the mound I’ve spent so much time atop. Like coming home, only to realize it’s a place I’ve outgrown.
Robin Jones is the first one up at bat for the opposing team, her eyes as wide and inviting as they were on the couch. “I just swing and hit it, right?” she calls to me.
I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek to hide the smirk that wants to form when I see Lennon roll her eyes.
Robin swings, but she doesn’t hit the ball I send flying her way. Colt is playing catcher, and I know he’s capable of handling anything I throw at him.
They’re nowhere near what my arm is capable of, but I lob two more pitches fast enough I know Robin won’t be capable of connecting with them. She flashes me a disappointed yet sultry smile before handing over the bat to Ryan James.
Normally, I’m ambivalent toward Ryan. I’ve sometimes gotten the sense he’s envious of me. But this time is different.I’mjealous ofhim. I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to make him look like a fool after watching him chat Lennon up in the kitchen like they’re old friends.
The first pitch I throw isn’t quite my top gear, but it’s close. Much closer than a late-night pickup game warrants. Colt notices, raising one eyebrow before tossing the baseball back to me.
Ryan swung two seconds too late on the first throw. I can tell he’s a bit wary of my next pitch based on the way he takes his time setting up his stance. He’s a decent athlete, but I’m better. And we’re playingmygame.
Rather than pitch another fastball, I send the curveball I spent junior year perfecting over home plate. Ryan’s reaction is faster this time, but his angle is wrong. The ball whizzes past the bat and lands in Colt’s glove with a satisfying smack. The most beautiful sound in the world.
Ryan’s angry now. It’s obvious to me. And it’s obvious to everyone else watching. I allow myself a small grin behind the shield of my glove before I toss another fastball his way. Not my top speed, but almost. And more than enough power to ensure he doesn’t have a chance to connect.
“Guess you did earn that scholarship, Winters,” Ryan spits out.
