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DROP THIRD STRIKE

CAMDYN

If the catcher fails to catch the ball on a third strike, and first base is open, or there are two outs, then the batter becomes a runner.

T here’s a layer of fog rolling in from Union Bay—the kind Seattle is famous for—blanketing Husky Ballpark in a ghostly white sheet.

The early morning sun tries to peek through a cluster of charcoal clouds hanging low over Montlake, creating a classic Pacific Northwest mist that makes everything feel a little surreal.

From where I’m sitting in the empty stadium, I can barely make out the “W” painted on the outfield grass.

I stare at the fog creeping over the warning track, wishing it would come closer and swallow me up so I don’t have to have this conversation.

The metal bleachers are cold and damp beneath me, and I’d give anything not to be in this seat, hearing this.

The purple seats around us are empty—it’s too early for anyone else to be here except a few grounds crew members prepping the field for today’s practice.

Do you see that girl sitting in the stands of the empty baseball stadium with the boy as lost as she is? The one trying not to shiver in her UW softball hoodie while the morning dew soaks through her running shoes?

That girl—she’s had a rough year, and it’s getting worse by the second.

That boy she’s sitting next to? He hasn’t had it easy, either.

His purple and gold baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes, like he’s trying to hide from the weight of this moment.

But if he’d pull his head out of his ass long enough to realize the girl next to him only wants him, this would’ve been easier to deal with.

But no, life isn’t that simple, is it? It’s complicated and messy ninety-nine percent of the time.

“We agreed we’d date around and have a new experience,” Jaxon sighs, breath puffing in the cold air. “It’s not like I’m cheating on you.”

Bitch, what?

His words sting. “No, Jaxon. You wanted a new experience. Casual dating. I only agreed because it meant keeping you in my life. I didn’t know it’d feel like this.”

This guy next to me is all I’ve ever known when it comes to love—love being the key word. I love him, even after everything we’ve been through this year. He’s right though, he’s not cheating on me, and it’s because of him. Okay, maybe because of me too.

I agreed to a situationship, thinking if I stayed close, he’d come back. But now I’m stuck—holding on when I should let go.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I can’t stop them, the cold Seattle air making them feel like ice. I’m so tired of crying over him, yet here I am, wishing he’d change his mind.

His eyes slide to mine, and I see it—the hurt, the guilt, the draw to me and the need to erase my pain.

But he knows he can’t because he’s the one who put me here.

He’s the reason we’re having this conversation at 7 a.m. on a Thursday, while most of campus is still asleep. “I don’t know what to say.”

With panic mounting, the air pushes out from my lungs and I attempt to control the sadness in my words. The morning chill doesn’t help—it makes my shaky breath more visible. “I don’t think there’s anything to say. It sounds like you made up your mind already.”

He runs his hands over his face, his purple UW baseball hat falling backward. “Everyone fucking hates me over this.” He adjusts his hat but doesn’t say any more. A seagull lands on the pitcher’s mound, completely unbothered by our drama.

I can’t control what he’s feeling any more than I can control my attachment to him. It’s just there. Undeniable. Uncontrollable, and at times, unimaginable.

I finally ask the question weighing me down. “Why her?”

At first, Jaxon doesn’t answer, and then I think maybe he’s not going to. The only sound is the distant whir of the grounds crew’s equipment.

But then he blows out a breath. “She doesn’t expect anything from me, and I’ve made so many mistakes with you. I’m constantly hurting you and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“So she’s the answer?” Is this like some kind of fucked up midlife crisis where the husband decides the wife and two teenage kids with drug problems aren’t worth it, so he divorces the wife, marries someone fifteen years younger, and starts over with new kids?

Okay, I know that’s probably not a great example, but whatever. You get the point. I think it’s a movie. Or, at the very least, a Hallmark one.

“No. It’s not like that,” Jaxon whispers. “There’s no answer for this. It’s… I don’t know. Something different for now.”

Knowing Jaxon, he probably doesn’t even know why. “Do you like her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. I wait, my heart so painful, so real. A crew team glides past on the water beyond the outfield wall, their oars cutting through the morning mist in perfect synchronization. I wish my life felt that coordinated right now.

He nods again as the wind picks up, sending a burst of cold air off the lake through the stadium.

A chill rushes through me and I curl my arms around my waist. “More than me?” Shivers work through me as the wind doesn’t let up, and I pull my UW softball jacket tighter around me.

“Cam, come on.” He pushes out a quick breath and rubs his hands together, blowing into them. “Don’t ask me something like that.”

He may not have admitted anything, but the implication hits. “Why not?”

He looks offended and I want to smack him upside the head and say, What the fuck about me, dick hole? The same way I wanted to when I saw them together this morning, him buying her coffee.

“We’re just hanging out. I don't know how I feel.”

“Oh.”

What if he does like her more? What if he falls in love with her?

I can hear my heart thumping in my chest. Strong, yet weak and fragile. Everything I am in his presence.

“It’s just...” He pauses and blows out an unsteady breath. “There are no expectations with her. It’s casual. She doesn’t want anything from me.”

I raise an eyebrow, my heart in my throat. “And I have expectations?” He’s making this worse with everything he says. A few more grounds crew start trickling from the dugout to the field, and I wonder if they can feel the tension radiating from our section of the stands.

“No. Well, yeah. I feel like all I do is hurt you and let you down. I’m always fucking everything up.”

Then don’t, dumbass.

I try to draw in a breath, hoping he won’t notice, but it shakes, and he looks at me.

The morning fog has settled into a thick blanket now, making the buildings beside the field disappear completely.

I know he feels the effects he has on me, but does he know I’d love to jump into the pockets of fog and disappear completely?

“Do you think she’s better for you?” I want to take it back the second I ask. My words come out pained, wavering. I’m vulnerable, my emotions on display, and I hate the advantage he has over me.

“No.” He draws in a breath. “I think it’s easier with her right now.”

“Oh.” Again, what else can I say?

“Cam,” he groans, and his head falls forward, his leg bouncing in the stadium chair next to me. The purple seat squeaks with his movement. We don’t look at each other and instead keep our eyes on the baseball field secluded in a layer of morning fog. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I picture them together this morning in the Starbucks line. I’d been playing softball in Mexico for the last week, only to return to find Jaxon talking to another girl. The pain came instantly when I saw the smile he gave her was real.

“Act like I’m telling you it’s over forever. It’s not.”

“It feels that way. It feels like you’re ending it because you want to date all of a sudden.” The sound of cleats on concrete echoes from the dugout as more players arrive.

“We agreed we would try it.” His words are quiet again, as if he doesn’t want me to hear them over the growing field maintenance noise, but says them anyway.

My body trembles, and not from the damp cold seeping through my clothes. “Yeah.”

“It’s just for right now.” His voice is soft, almost a mumble. “It’s not forever.”

“It’s been going on a year. Someday I’m going to stop waiting around for you, Jaxon.” A rock flung from the lawnmower in right field clinks against a railing, making me flinch.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I keep putting it off because I don’t want to hurt you even more. And if I know you’re sad, I’m not going to do this. It makes it harder.”

“Harder?” I draw in a shaky breath, trying to control the wave of emotions drowning me. The morning chill isn’t helping—my whole body feels frozen, inside and out. “Why? Why does it even matter what I want anymore?”

“It always matters. I don’t want to hurt you, Camdyn.”

Too late.

“You know, we were together last week,” I remind him, feeling even more confused. “Remember?”

Had he forgotten the insanely hot sex we had in my dorm room before I left for Mexico?

“I remember.” He nods, his eyes following the path my tears make down my cheeks. The morning light catches them, making them glisten like the dew on the outfield grass. “But we talked about this and I thought we agreed we would be friends for now.”

“We did.” Did he honestly believe us sleeping together all summer wouldn’t result in me feeling confused? And now he’s talking to another girl. What the fuck?

“How can we know if we’re meant to be if we’ve only ever experienced this?” He motions between us, his bright blue eyes catching the weak sunlight trying to break through the clouds.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only answer I have. I shouldn’t have suggested a situationship. The crack of a practice bat makes me jump—someone’s already in the batting cages behind the dugout.

He keeps saying he doesn’t want to hurt me, but he keeps doing it.

I wipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks, my fingers nearly numb from the morning chill. “I’m fine.”