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A player with a strong throwing arm.
Iknow, I know. You’re excited about how last night ended, and the texting.
Well, don’t get too excited, because guess who hasn’t said anything to me all day?
Yeah: that bitchy little baseball player I can’t move on from.
I hate how excited I got when he texted me—because I freaking knew better. I shouldn’t let myself be so invested in whether Jaxon is communicating with me, but here I am.
I knew when he texted, it didn’t mean anything other than he wanted to stay friends. Or does he want the situationship back? Believe me, I can read into it and make myself crazy dissecting every word, convincing myself he wants to marry me and have my babies—like Callie’s hockey player she’s never met but stalks on Instagram.
My point is, I can fill my head with lies, but I’ve been there. I’m not doing it again.
Especially not when he doesn't text me all day or even acknowledge me when we pass each other at the Local Pointdining hall. We did the classic I-don’t-know-you glance in public. You know the one. If you don’t, let me explain, because it’s the reason dating is confusing as hell these days.
First, texting has made it so easy to talk to people, and I love that for my introverted ass. But if you’re just starting to talk to a guy, listen up: texting lets you hide behind your phone. Suddenly, you can say anything because you’re behind a screen. It’s easier to word-vomit, but there’s a downside. If you’re like me and struggle to say what you mean in person, it’s brutal. I can spout off nonsense all day that means nothing. Half the time, I don’t even know what I’m saying.
Tell a guy my feelings in person? Nope. Can’t do it. Actual anxiety. And hives. I get hives when I’m nervous—like I’m a puffer fish. I sense danger (talking about feelings) and my skin goes haywire. But seriously—I got off topic with my hives.
Jaxon and I were never like that. I could talk to him for hours in person and never get bored or struggle with what to say. We’d sit in his dorm room—him gaming, me getting addicted to drama-filled shows like DanceMoms. We never needed to fill the quiet.
Until the situationship shit over the summer, and it complicated everything.
Have you ever been in a situationship? It’s messy and confusing. You’re not dating, but you’re also not single. If that makes sense. Or maybe you are single? Maybe that’s the point? I don’t know the rules. The situationship is when it got complicated, because suddenly I didn’t know what to say to him anymore. I didn’t know what I could or couldn’t say. Sure, we were friends, but I had to draw a line and watch what I was saying.
If I had a long day, I didn’t dare tell him I missed him. I couldn’t hug him in public, couldn’t hold his hand, nothing.
If I saw him in public with his friends, I couldn’t just run up and talk like I used to. Nobody knew we were still hooking up—past tense since Inez—and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want his coaches knowing, either.
So I walked by Jaxon this morning and acted like we were nothing more than friends. I smiled, he half-smiled, watched me make my breakfast smoothie, but other than that, we didn’t talk.
He left for practice and I did the same.
Three hours later,I’m leaving the batting cages and guess who’s standing outside?
Yeah, that bitchy little baseball player.
Why does he have to look so good all the time? Have I mentioned how cute Jaxon is? He’s sexy, yeah, but he’s got this cute, innocent vibe—even though he’s far from innocent. My heart pounds as I approach him, half expecting he’s going to tell me he and Inez are quitting school to get married and have her baby. (Callie would never live that one down.)
Jaxon’s leaned against the bike rack, clearly waiting for someone. He’s in gray sweatpants and a purple Husky Baseball hoodie with the hood up over his baseball hat. He looks nervous, tugging at his sleeves as I approach.
I draw in a calming breath and try to be normal, not affected by him. “Hey,” I say when I’m about a foot away, hating that being near him still makes my stomach twist with nerves.
“Hey.” He squints into the sun reflecting off the metal racks and smirks. “Where ya going?”
I stare at his face. His eyes are friendly, like he’s happy to see me. “Shower.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder and shift my weight. “How about you?”
His jaw clenches, those blue eyes meeting mine. I can feel the tension rolling off him. He’s nervous, for reasons I don’t know—and I’m afraid to ask why. What if he’s here to tell me he knocked up Inez and he’s dropping out to raise their kid?
“Ima go feed Kellan’s dog for him.” He tips his head toward the parking lot. “He’s out of town this week.”
“Oh.” Okay, bullet dodged. She’s not pregnant.
That I know of.
Silence lingers, then he lifts a shoulder. “Ya wanna come with me?”
Great, he wants to talk alone before telling me he’s running off to marry her.