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Jeni had been two seconds away from setting her stuff down at the end of the row, but now took a step forward. “Excuse me.”
Stacy looked up. “Oh, hey, Jeni.”
Jeni gave her a tight smile and sat down right between them. The spot was barely enough for a person to squeeze into, and her thighs touched theirs on either side.
Stacy let out a small noise of irritation or amusement, Jeni couldn’t be sure, and stood. “See y’all out there.”
Jeni and Logan sat there alone. They were surrounded by noise and people, but it felt like they were in their own little world.
Logan remained silent for a moment.
“You can’t do that,” he finally said. He hadn’t moved so much as a centimeter away from her. He smelled wonderful, and Jeni wanted to bury her face in his neck.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Act jealous. You don’t get to do that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorted. Still, he didn’t scoot away, and they remained like that, side by side with arms and thighs aligned, until the game began.
They won the first game relatively easily. The second was a struggle.
By the final inning, their team was up by one, and Jeni stood on the pitcher’s mound. It was after nine p.m. and probably barely above forty degrees. Her breath puffed out as white mist, but her body was warm and energized.
Two outs, two strikes. A beefy man with thick arms and hard eyes stared her down from home plate, bat clutched between his fingers, no doubt pissed off that he was about to be taken down by a girl.
If she struck this guy out, they’d win the game.
Logan’s voice carried from his second-base post behind her. “Come on, Jeni.”
She glanced back at him, and the look in his eye as he gazed back at her sent a shiver down her spine. It was the same way he’d looked at her that night she asked him to sleep with her, just before he gave in and kissed her.
Jeni brushed a few stray wisps of hair back with her forearm and turned back to focus on the batter. She gripped the ball in her right hand, tight and steady. She touched the ball to her glove, straightened, and took a deep breath. She swung her arm back and rotated, feeling her body naturally move forward, keeping her arm straight without being stiff. Her down swing was fast, and she snapped the ball free, the power from years of honing the perfect pitch evident in her delivery. The second she released the ball, she knew what would happen.
“Strike three!” the umpire yelled.
Her face split open in a wide smile, and it only took two seconds for her to feel herself lifted from behind, strong arms around her waist.
“Atta girl,” Logan said from behind her.
He set her down but kept his arms around her waist, and she turned to face him. Several other players surrounded them now, patting her on the shoulders and back—and one on the ass. She almost whipped around to find the culprit, Curt first on her list, but Logan’s fingers tightening around her waist focused her attention on him.
He dipped his head and spoke into her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there. “You’re amazing.”
She closed her eyes and slid her arms around his shoulders, relishing in the feel of being pressed up against him. This was more than a congratulations for a stupid recreational softball championship, and they both knew it.
But they’d pretend that’s all it was.
It was better that way, for both of them.
* * *
It was a week and a half later before Jeni saw Logan again. She’d kept her phone nearby at all times, thinking he’d text her at some point, about something. She wracked her brain for excuses to reach out to him but talked herself out of it every time.
This was her decision, and it was the right one.
Didn’t make it easy though.
