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Guess who asked me on a date?
Bitchy little baseball player. He’s not a bitch anymore, though. He’s stepping up to the plate.
I’m so damn proud, aren’t you? And he showed up for me at the World Series. Not only did I pitch the game of my life, I was finally confident. Not just because I knew he was there, but because of him—because of what we went through, I learned to depend on myself and hold myself accountable. I realized I could do anything, with or without Jaxon in my life.
And just so we’re clear, he’s in my life now.
I keep checking the clock, even though it’s pointless. Five minutes ago, I was standing in front of my mirror debating whether to change my top for the third time, but it’s too late now. The sun’s still high, slanting through the window and making everything in the dorm look golden and kind of unreal. My hands won’t stop fidgeting with the hem of my crop top. I picked it because it says: “I’m trying, but not too hard.”
At least, that’s what I hope.
My legs are bare and I can feel a breeze from the open window brush my shins. Early June in Seattle is this weird mix of warm and chilly, like the weather can’t decide if it’s summer yet.
Across the room, Callie’s upside down on her bed, legs propped on the wall, phone on her stomach. “He literally left me on read,” she says, for what has to be the sixth time. “Like, bro, get it together. Seriously, Cam, if he texts ‘wyd’ at midnight again I’m blocking him.” She looks up when I don’t answer. “Where are you going?”
“Date with Jaxon…” I say, glancing at her, feeling that flutter in my chest. For over a year, I prayed every day I could say those words again, and now it feels unreal. Like I don’t deserve to be this happy. But I know I do. I wonder if Jaxon’s as nervous as I am. Probably not.
“Everything okay?” she asks, brow furrowed. “We’re not freaking out, right? I’m not gonna have to call the CDC on this date, right?”
“Nope,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Honestly, this feels different. Like a real shot at something good. “I’m just nervous. It feels too good to be true, you know?”
“Babes, you deserve this, don’t ever doubt that.” I smile and she glances down at her phone, frowning. “Ugh. What a brat.”
I pull on a lilac crop top that makes my tits look fucking amazing and slide my feet into my Birks under my bed. “What’s wrong?”
She sighs, flipping her phone over, rolling her eyes. “Jameson’s being stupid.”
“Wait,” I turn toward her, curiosity pulling me in. “What happened with you and Sawyer?”
“He’s… I don’t know. Dating that girl on your team. Zoey? I don’t care.” She rolls her eyes again, voice dripping with annoyance. “And Jameson is being so bratty about stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Like, we started talking again and he keeps bringing up old shit, saying he can’t trust me like he used to.” Her shoulders slump. “I don’t know why I’m even trying.”
I nod because drama has a permanent season pass in our group. We’re in college. All our relationships are complicated and, well, complicated. “Babes, you kinda led him on a few times. It makes sense he’s cautious.”
Callie stares at me. “Nooo, this is different.”
I can’t tell her it’s not. She won’t listen anyway. “Maybe he just needs some time.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
See? Told ya. She’s not going to listen to me. I know exactly what Jameson’s feeling. I’m there myself, but Jaxon showed up for me—he didn’t make it about himself. He made the whole night about me.
Callie sits up, hair a mess, like she can see straight through me. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you? About Jaxon.”
I want to deny it, but what’s the point? “Yeah,” I admit, chewing my lip. “I don’t know. What if it’s awkward? Like we forgot how to talk?”
“You won’t,” she says, softer now. “You two were always good together.”
I try to believe her, but my stomach’s doing somersaults. I keep picturing him knocking on the door, that half-smirk on his face, and me standing here like an idiot—or worse, someone who still cares too much. The hallway outside is quiet, and every time a door slams somewhere else, my heart jumps.
The air smells like Callie’s vanilla candle and leftover rain from the morning. I stare at the flickering candle on hernightstand, trying to slow my breathing. I tell myself it’s just a date. We’ve done this a thousand times. But not like this—not after breaking up, not with all this hope and fear tangled together.
My phone buzzes. Fork Guy. He’s made a group chat with me and Jaxon.
FORK GUY