Page 18

Inez shuffles over, clutching her notebook like a shield. “Um, Camdyn?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Could I maybe... if you’re not too busy... get a few quotes?”

She’s doing that thing where she won’t quite meet my eyes, instead focusing on some point past my left shoulder. It would be endearing if I didn’t know she’s been texting Jaxon.

“About the upcoming series?” I ask, trying to sound professional.

“Actually…” She fidgets with her pen. “I was wondering about last season’s World Series game. And um, you know, how you’re handling everything. With Jaxon supporting you and all…”

See, this is what gets me about Inez. She asks these loaded questions in this shy, innocent way that makes you feel like a monster for getting upset. Like, how do you call out someone who looks like they might spontaneously combust from social anxiety?

But I’ve learned the hard way that the quiet ones can surprise you.

“I’m focused on the team,” I say, channeling every media training session we’ve ever had. “Last season’s behind us, and we’re looking at Arizona State right now.”

She nods rapidly, scribbling something down. “And Jaxon?” The question comes out so quiet I almost miss it. “You two seem... close.”

Yeah, about as close as you can get in a shower, but I’m not giving her that satisfaction. Even if she does look like a startled deer right now.

I’m saved by Coach Drew, who materializes like my guardian angel. “Time for team photos, Camdyn.”

As I walk away, I check my phone one more time. Still nothing from Jaxon.

You’re probably thinking I’m an idiot for falling back into this situationship with him. Trust me, I know. But there’s something about Jaxon that makes all my common sense pack up and go on vacation. It’s like my brain goes: “Red flag? Nah, that’s a really pretty sunset.”

My mind’s a fucking idiot, by the way.

The purple fog from the smoke machines fills the batting cages where we’re taking photos, and I can’t help but think it’s fitting. Everything in my life right now feels hazy and out of focus.

“Smile!” a photographer calls out.

Sure, I’ll smile. Just don’t ask me what I’m smiling about, because honestly? I have no idea anymore.

The entire team is gathered together and I’m standing away from them, watching their interactions with one another.

You may have noticed this by now, but I don’t have a lot of friends.

I talk to Callie and Brynn, sometimes, and a few other friends I have at school, but I’m an introvert.

I prefer to have meaningful connections with people and not fake friendships.

I have no social media other than my athlete account on Instagram and I have DMs blocked.

Not because I don’t want to talk to anyone, but because it only creates drama and stress for me.

I hate drama. For that reason, I keep to myself when I can.

Which makes media day tough because while my teammates are doing the trendy TikToks with each other and snapping pictures of their day, I’m in the corner obsessing over why my screwball wasn’t breaking in warmups this morning.

I’m thinking about that last fly ball I hit to centerfield in our last game and wondering why I was two feet away from a home run.

I’m thinking about why my shoulder is sore after only one bullpen session this week.

And… I’m obsessing over Jaxon now that I’m in the same room with Inez.

While I’m thinking about all that, Coach Drew approaches, his smile knowing. “Why are you smiling like that?”

I blink rapidly, as if I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t realize I was smiling. “Like what?”

“Like you’re a hostage victim.”

“I feel like a hostage victim. I hate interviews.”

“Well.” He runs his hand down his graying jawline. “Don’t say anything I wouldn’t say.”

I’m going to say it. Coach Drew, our assistant head coach and way too old for me to be saying this, is incredibly attractive.

Believe me when I say our entire team isn’t mad when he’s demonstrating a drill, if you know what I mean.

He’s also married and has two adorable kids and a beautiful wife.

Still, we stare at him a little longer than we need to.

“Do I have to do this?” I ask as he’s standing next to me. I'm still in my full uniform and I’m pretty sure they turned the heat up in here on purpose because it feels like my ass cheeks are dripping sweat. “I’m not good at talking.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Coach Drew smiles and it looks like he should be the one on camera today. His teeth are perfectly aligned and bright white. I bet he has veneers. “You’re gonna be doing press all month next month so get used to it.”

I fan myself, because of the heat, not him. I swear. “Mhm.”

Brynn bounces over to us and grins at Coach Drew. “I’ll do the interview. I’m good at them. I’m also really funny.”

Coach Drew pushes her away. “You’re banned since you told ESPN you had to poop and that’s why you were late.” The way he says “poop” like it’s a forbidden word makes me burst out laughing.

“Well, it was true.” Brynn stares at him like he’s crazy. “I did have to.”

He rolls his eyes. “The world did not need to know.”

“You know you love me,” she tells him, trying to pinch his cheeks.

Brynn shrugs. “He loves me.”

I smile and pat her shoulder. “Mhm.”

They have a love-hate relationship, but clearly I’m his favorite.

“Gurllll.” Brynn’s eyes widen. “I forgot to tell y’all about my night.” I glance around to see who she’s talking to when she says y’all but it’s just me.

“Oh yeah?”

“I met this girl at a party and she sells her panties for money.”

“Wait, what?” I turn my head slowly back to her. “Like ones she wears?”

“Yeah.” She nods, and then keeps nodding. I don’t like the way her eyes hint that she’s considering doing this herself. “She’s paying her way through college by selling her panties. She wears them to class, then ships them out to dudes on the internet.”

“Uh, like for real? Was she serious?”

“Yeah.” Brynn’s eyes widen, as if she either can’t believe it, or she’s contemplating doing this herself. “It’s genius.”

Okay, so she’s thinking about selling her dirty panties on the internet. Cool. “Uh, maybe don’t do that. You’re an athlete. Pretty sure that’s not a good idea on so many levels. The NCAA would literally kill you.”

“Well, I mean, who’s gonna know though?”

“Brynn. Be realistic here. People would know.”

“Nah, cuz like, think about it. I could do it under a different name.”

Look at her face. She believes in her plan. “Or just call myself Baddie Brynn and sell that shit.”

“Okay but your name would literally be in your profile if you did that. People would definitely know.”

She pays no mind to the logic I’m giving her. “Imagine what they’d pay for my sliding shorts after a game. She mails them in ziplock bags to seal them babies up.”

“Stop talking.” I slap my hand over her mouth, thoroughly grossed out now. “That’s disgusting.”

She pulls my hand away. “Is it though?”

“Yes. It is!”

Coach Drew returns and sighs, pointing at Brynn. “No, I don’t want to know what you’re talking about. Time for interviews.”

Honestly, I think I’d rather talk about selling panties than do this next part.

From across the room, I catch Inez hunched over her notebook, occasionally glancing up at us through those thick glasses. She’s got this way of making herself almost invisible until you realize she’s been there the whole time, catching every word.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my heart does that stupid little jump it always does when I think it might be Jaxon.

It’s not. Unfortunately.

The first portion of our media day after pictures is student-led. Which, unfortunately, leaves Inez interviewing me.

So thrilled, and incredibly nervous. I’m standing near the tables, one AirPod in, listening to music as she approaches—her phone in one hand, her notebook in the other.

My palms are already sweating and I haven’t even sat down yet.

She looks just as nervous, if not more, which somehow makes this worse.

Taking my AirPod out, I shove it back in the case and glance at Brynn, who is still next to me. “Wait, has she said anything about Jaxon lately?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. Real smooth, Cam.

Brynn leans in, wraps an arm around my shoulders, her lips close to my ear. “He hasn’t texted her since before the hockey game, as far as I know.”

I can feel the corners of my lips fighting off a smile. I don’t know why, but I suddenly want to jump up and down. Like, actually bounce around this room like a complete idiot. I smile, trying not to be too happy about this newfound information, but I can’t help it.

As Brynn walks away, there’s a fluttering, warm feeling in my stomach. He hasn’t talked to her since he texted me. That could mean something, right?

Girl, chill. Don't get your hopes up. You know him lately.

Drawing a deep breath, I sit down at the conference table as Inez does the same.

She’s meticulous about how she organizes everything.

There’s something she and Jaxon have in common.

While my bat bag usually looks like someone packed it fugitive-style, Jaxon’s looks like a brain surgeon preparing for surgery.

Everything has a place and if it’s not perfect, he won’t step on the field.

He packs everything the night before and always knows where his stuff is between innings.

I’m lucky if I can find both batting gloves at the same time.

“Hello, Camdyn.”

Her formality evokes a smirk from me. My anxiety eases slightly at how proper she’s trying to be.

“Hey.” I slouch in the metal chair. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but I already know what questions she’s going to ask me.

Not only can I see her list, but anyone interviewing me asks the same questions.

They want to know about the World Series breakdown and my relationship with Jaxon Ryan.