Page 28 of Fake Dates and Home Plates (Way Off Base #1)
Chapter Twenty-Six
Theo
The next few months fade by quickly. Finals week is hell, like always, but it’s followed by the holiday season. For once, I don’t have to celebrate alone or at one my parents’ social commitments.
I spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Harkin family, who have welcomed me with open arms. Once training starts in February, even that seems to fly by. Every moment in between classes and baseball practice is spent with Henley.
Or inside Henley.
She continues to train, working toward her first half-marathon in just a couple of months, then on to a full marathon at the end of the summer.Now that baseball season has officially started, I don’t get to run with her nearly as much as I’d like.
Dakota’s been quiet lately, which surprises me. Part of me wonders if he’s planning something or just moved on to another target. When Henley mentioned how her teammates were being harassed, I made the decision to hire a private investigator.
It’s been weeks, and all the updates I’ve gotten have been mostly vague, but he was recommended by Finn, who offered to pay for half. I declined, knowing this was all my idea to pursue in the first place.
I throw my headphones in my ears while sitting on one of the locker room benches.
It’s the same playlist I’ve listened to for months, the one I had Henley send me when we ran together the first time.
The song is upbeat, and the lyrics talk about some sort of escape; I can visualize Henley singing it in my passenger seat.
All my teammates fill the space around me, some doing their own pre-game routines, others acting like idiots. There’s a new energy in the room today, though. The team has been working hard, and I know it’s going to be an incredible season.
My last college opening day.
The spring weather is a little chilly, but I know once we’ve warmed up out on the field, it’ll be fine.
When Bash takes a seat next to me, I give him a cocky smile. “Did you let Sunny pick your walk-up song again?”
He nods. “I’ve been doing it since Little League, and no matter how embarrassing the song is, I still let her do it again.”
Bash’s walk-up songs have been a variety of cringeworthy pop songs, but it always gets a laugh from the crowd.
“What did you pick?” he asks me.
I mimic zipping my lips. It wouldn’t matter anyway; Bash only listens to rap music or songs that would be played at the club.
There’s only one person I care about impressing, and I know it was one of her most listened to songs last year. My girl prefers music that’s at least a decade old, but I don’t mind it one bit.
“You’re so whipped,” Bash tells me with a laugh as he buttons his jersey.
I shrug, unable to deny it. Refuting an obvious fact is pointless. “So?”
Bash might be my best friend, but he has no idea what it’s like to be so fucking gone for someone, you’ll take any moment you can be with them. Of meshing your life with theirs so that even when you’re apart, you’re constantly reminded of them.
“I guess even though you’ve had a crush on her for years, it’s still weird to see one of us tied down.”
I’d absolutely love to be tied down by Henley, with literally anything.
As if he can read my dirty thoughts, he laughs, “Get your head out of your girlfriend’s bed and focus on the game.”
Coach Connor steps in, and the noise ceases. He gives us last-minute reminders of how the West Coast Falcons will likely play today. I listen intently, focused on his observations so I know what to expect at bat. Then, he grabs Bash and our backup pitcher, talking over strategy for them.
Walking out of the tunnel, I breathe in the smell of the field—the freshly mowed grass, the smell of newly-painted lines, and the reddish colored dirt we’ll all be wearing by the last inning.
Then, the sound of the crowd comes through. The school spirit here at HVU runs deep, and the student body shows up for us just as much as every other sport.
We take the field first, and I settle into my spot at first base. The sun is bright for our afternoon game, warming my skin as it shines over us.
As the first batter takes a couple of practice swings away from the home plate, I look over to where I know she should be sitting.
Then, I see her.
Our eyes meet briefly, and she smiles before winking at me, but my focus is on the jersey.Custom-made in black and pink, she wears a Knights jersey with my number on it. She stands, showing off her legs in her black cut-off shorts, but my eyes are fixated on her back as she turns.
My last name sits on top of my number, the pink ‘22’ taking up most of the jersey.
Fuck, I do not need to be getting hard in my protective cup.
I hear the umpire call a strike and refocus my attention on the game. I bend my knees, ready for the play if the batter manages a hit off one of Bash’s throws.
Our turn to bat comes quickly, Bash easily striking out three players in the top of the first inning. We jog into the dugout, ready to follow the batting order posted on the wall as one of the coaching staff stands, ready to give us advice as we wait to warm up.
Ezra is first, followed by one of the sophomore guys who doesn’t see a lot of field time but is a fucking wizard with the bat. When my turn comes around, we’re up by one run with two players on base and one out.
The Simple Plan songs play as I swing my bat in the direction of her seat. I can’t see her face clearly from here, but I can make out two figures dancing to the lyrics, and I know that must be Henley and Lily.
I watch as the pitcher communicates with the catcher behind me before he bends and winds up. I know before I’ve even finished swinging that it’s a strike.
“Strike!” the empire confirms.
Rolling my neck, I step back into my stance. This time, the four-seam fastball doesn’t have quite as much speed as his last attempt. When I swing, I hear it connect with a loud thud. Then, I’m dropping the bat and hauling my ass to first base.
It’s a double, and the Knights get two more runs as a result.
The game continues for what feels like forever, and my skin feels itchy with need.
Our backup pitcher takes a turn at the mound as Bash watches nervously. We give them a couple of runs before the Knights take the field again.
Eventually, we pull off the win and celebrate loudly on the field and in the dugout. When we’re in the locker room, the joy and excitement take over as everyone talks about their plans. Everyone decides to head to one of the guy’s houses to celebrate, but my mind is elsewhere.
After the fastest shower of my life, I send a text to Henley for her to meet me.
Because if I don’t get my hands on her while she’s wearing my name and my number on my fucking field, I’m going to lose my damn mind.