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“I have a six-foot height requirement. And you’re a pitcher. I can’t date a pitcher.” The real reason? Every time I’d see him wind up for a pitch, I’d think of Jaxon because he’s a catcher.
Everything already reminds me of him—I don’t need more triggers.
“Why not? You’re a pitcher.”
“Yeah and we’d always be competing about who’s better.”
He blinks, twice. “Um, I am. No question.”
I tap my pencil to my chin, a smile tugging at my lips. “It’s a proven fact softball is harder than baseball.”
“A chick must’ve done that theory.” Jameson chuckles.
“Nuh uh. It’s a fact. Softball has less reaction time.” And it’s harder on your heart, apparently. At least mine feels pretty beaten up right now.
Jameson sighs, suddenly serious. “Hey, if it means anything, I think he’s fucking up by not choosing you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know.” My cheeks warm, and I’m not sure if it’s from anxiety or just thinking about Jaxon with her. The worst part? I can’t even hate Inez. It’s not her fault. “What about you and Callie? Chocolates on Valentine’s Day?”
His cheeks turn pink and his expression softens. “My mom told me to.”
“Oh.”
He half shrugs. “I was going to, though. She didn’t look like she wanted them.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him I ate the chocolates, so I leave that out. “Soooo?”
“We’re talking again. Kinda.”
“You’ve been kinda talking for a while.” Just like Jaxon and I were “kinda” something. Until we weren’t.
“I know. Half the time I don’t know if she actually likes me or she’s bored.”
“I don’t know either.” But I get it now, that uncertainty. That constant question of ‘are we something or nothing?’ It’s exhausting.
He elbows me again. “Yo, do you know what skibidi Ohio rizz means?”
“What?” I stare at him like he’s speaking another language. “No. When did you hear that?”
“From this kid named Sage. He’s ten. Jaxon and I have been working with these little league kids and he said that to me when I told him what I did for Callie. He said, ‘yo bruh, you got that skibidi Ohio rizz. It’s garbage’.”
I fight back laughter. “Uh, I think it’s a diss.” Leave it to Gen Alpha to invent new ways to destroy our self-esteem.
“Well, yeah. I gathered that much when he said garbage.” He blows out a quick breath. “Man. Kids are ruthless.”
“You guys are helping with little league?” My heart does that stupid flutter again. Jaxon’s always been good with kids.
Jameson nods and stretches his legs, kicking the seat in front of us. “Sorry,” he mumbles when the girl looks back. “Anyway, we have to get community service hours before the season starts.”
“Oh, yeah.” I knew that. I remember Jaxon volunteering last year and helping run a tournament for the kids over the summer. He looked so happy that day, high-fiving little players and showing them proper form. I wonder if Inez has seen that side of him yet. “That’s fun.”
“It’s fine, but dang those little dudes are harsh as fuck.”
Just as we’re about to settle in, Professor Nguyen walks up to the podium and taps the mic. “Before we start, a reminder: yourfirst lab report is due next Wednesday. You’ll need to pick one organ system, describe its structure and function, and illustrate it—by hand. No AI-generated diagrams, no copying straight from the textbook.” She scans the room over her glasses, locking eyes with a couple of football guys in the back who absolutely look like they were planning on doing exactly that. “If you’re struggling with the drawing part, office hours are all week. And yes, I can tell when you trace from Wikipedia. You wouldn’t believe how many identical livers I’ve seen.” She grins, deadpan. “Make yours stand out.”
Jameson snorts. “Damn, I was gonna trace it.”
I chuckle, because yes, he’s serious.