Page 51

WILD PITCH

CAMDYN

A poorly thrown pitch that lets a base runner advance.

The fluorescent lights make everyone look like extras from The Walking Dead , and there’s that distinct smell I can only describe as “hospital trying to hide hospital.” Like they’ve weaponized bleach against the stench of desperation and bad decisions.

“Did you seriously fall face-first into concrete while hiding in bushes?” The nurse cleaning my chin tries not to laugh—and fails. Her name tag says “Jackie” and she’s clearly enjoying this way too much.

“I was testing gravity,” I mutter, staring at Jackie’s microbladed eyebrows as she works. “It works.”

“Mhm.” She shares an amused look with the other nurse—Marcus—who’s been not-so-subtly watching this whole drama unfold. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the cute baseball player who brought you in?”

Jaxon, lying on the hospital bed with his feet up while I perch on the edge, lifts his head from the pillow. “Wait, you tripped because of me?”

I reach back and push his head down. “Stop talking.”

My face burns hotter than my throbbing chin. I’m trying not to think about how good he smells after practice or how his hand’s still rubbing my back, as if to say, I’m tired, but I’m here.

“Oh lord, is that a plastic fork?” Marcus asks, and we all turn to see a guy stumble into the ER with—yes—a plastic fork sticking out of his left eye socket.

Jaxon sits up, his head close to mine. “Oh, sick. That’s wild.”

“Listen,” Fork Guy says, hands up like he’s on trial, “in my defense, my roommate told me I couldn’t eat ramen while doing a handstand.”

“Wait,” Jaxon leans forward, squinting. “Bro, aren’t you in my Psych 101 class?”

“Oh hey! Baseball dude!” Fork Guy waves enthusiastically, making the fork wobble.

“Yeah, I sit in the back. Usually sleeping. Sometimes eating ramen. Not usually with utensils in my face. Although…” He pauses, thoughtful.

“This might explain why I keep failing the depth perception parts of our psych experiments.”

Jackie sighs like someone who’s seen too much. “Sir, please stop moving the fork.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He turns to me. “So what’re you in for? Also, pro tip: blame it on Mercury in retrograde. Works every time. Unless you’re talking to an astronomy major, then blame Saturn. They’re always dragging Saturn.”

“From what we can tell, she fell face-first stalking this one,” Marcus jerks his thumb at Jaxon, who’s back to looking like the patient.

“Dude,” Fork Guy nods sagely, fork flopping. “I feel that. I once climbed three floors up the fire escape to see if my ex was dating her TA. Turns out she was just tutoring him in Spanish. The restraining order was a bit much if you ask me. Like, sorry I care about your conjugations, Rebecca!”

I want to be his friend. I need to be his friend.

“Sir,” Jackie interrupts, “we really need to look at that fork…”

“Just a minute.” He pauses dramatically. “Wait, are you two like a thing?”

“No,” I say first, noticing Jaxon’s raised eyebrow. “We’re friends. Or whatever.”

“Mhm,” Marcus adds. “Is that why you were stalking him in the bushes?”

“Shut up,” I snap. “Will you just stitch me up?”

“I’m trying.” He’s not.

“One more thing,” Fork Guy turns back as Jackie grabs his sleeve. “Listen, you two remind me of my fork situation right now.”

“How exactly?” Jaxon lifts his head, and his fingers definitely, purposefully, run over the small of my back.

“Well, you’ve clearly got a thing—there’s a vibe—but you’re afraid to pull it out because what if it makes everything worse?

Sometimes you gotta yank the fork out, you know?

Yeah, it might hurt, and yeah, there might be some blood, and yeah, you might need stitches—oh hey, you’ve already got that covered!

” He points at my chin. “But at least you’re not walking around with emotional cutlery in your face anymore. ”

“That’s literally the worst medical advice I’ve ever heard,” Marcus says, grinning. “Do not pull that fork out.”

“I’m starting to think the fork isn’t the biggest problem here,” Jackie mutters, clearly done with this shift. She tugs Fork Guy away. “C’mon, Dr. Phil.”

“Okay, okay! But remember what I said about the fork metaphor!” Fork Guy lets Jackie lead him off, then turns back. “Oh, and baseball dude? That essay on behavioral psych is due tomorrow. Although…” He gestures to his fork. “I’ve got a pretty good case study if you want to collaborate.”

“Shit, forgot about that,” Jaxon mutters, glancing at me. His free hand brushes a strand of hair from my face, and I try not to lean into his touch like a cat. “You okay? You scared the hell out of me.”

The lidocaine must be making me brave. I look right at him. “Which part? The face-plant or the stalking?”

“Both?” His voice is soft, but he’s smiling. “So you were stalking me…”

I rest my head on his shoulder—partly because I’m tired, partly because it’s easier to hide my face. “Guilty.”

“Fork Guy’s right!” Marcus announces, making us both jump but not move apart. “You two either yank the fork out or leave it in, but this halfway stuff is asking for infection.”

Down the hall, Fork Guy shouts, “THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING!”

“Marcus!” Jackie calls. “Stop giving fork-based relationship advice and help me here! And you—” presumably to Fork Guy—“stop eavesdropping and let me fix your life choices!”

“But I’m invested in their story!” Fork Guy protests. “It’s like Grey’s Anatomy but with more stalking and less medical accuracy!”

When they’re gone, Jaxon’s still behind me, I’m still using his shoulder as a pillow, and we’re both pretending this isn’t making things more complicated.

“You been talking to Nathan still?” he asks quietly.

“No… You been talking to Inez?”

His face brushes mine, and it’s so tender I could cry. His voice is soft. “Not how you think. She found me after practice, but I’ve been ignoring her texts for weeks.”

I hate how hopeful those words make me. “Why?”

“Well…” He kisses my temple. “She’s not you.”

I blow out a breath. “What if Fork Guy’s right and we’re both walking around with plastic utensils in our faces?”

“Mmm.” He laughs, and I feel it in his chest. “That guy’s definitely concussed.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” Marcus returns with what looks like the world’s largest needle.

“I... don’t know.” I lift my head, eyeing the torture device Marcus calls medical equipment. “But I’m suddenly very sure I had one yesterday. Maybe two.”

Jaxon laughs behind me. “Sure you did.”

“Nice try.” Marcus preps my arm while I try not to hyperventilate. “But if you can’t remember, you’re getting one.”

I pull my arm back. “What if I write you a compelling essay about why I don’t need it?” I grip Jaxon’s hand tighter.

“Nope.”

Down the hall, Fork Guy yells, “Pretend it’s a tiny fork!”

“Not helping!” I yell back.

“That’s worse,” Jaxon points out, shifting to block my view of the needle, his free hand cupping my face. “Look at me instead.”

I search his eyes, unprepared for the ache in my chest. I want to kiss him. “I am not a fan of needles,” I say, as if my death grip on his hand wasn’t obvious. “Like, strongly opposed.”

“You know what’s worse than needles?” Jaxon asks, thumb stroking my cheek.

“Lockjaw,” Marcus adds. “Which you’ll get if you skip this.”

“That’s debatable right now—ow!” I yelp as Marcus sneaks in the shot while I’m distracted by Jaxon’s face. “That was cruel and unusual punishment.”

“All done,” Marcus announces. “See? Barely felt it.”

“I’m filing a complaint with HR,” I mutter, still holding Jaxon’s hand. He looks at me like I’m something precious, even with tears in my eyes.

“No you’re not,” Jackie says, dropping off my discharge papers. “We witnessed your bush-diving adventure and have photographic evidence.”

“You took pictures?”

“Hospital documentation,” she winks. “Very official.”

Fork Guy pokes his now fork-free head in. “Did someone say pictures? Can I be in them? This could be a great album cover.”

“Out!” Jackie points to the exit. “Or I’m calling your RA again.”

“Fine, fine.” He starts to go, then turns back. “But seriously, you two? Don’t wait for someone to stick a fork in their eye to figure out what matters. That’s my TED Talk for the night.”

I look up at Jaxon, who’s still watching me with that intense expression. “He’s kind of wise for a guy who tried to eat ramen upside down.”

“Even a broken fork is right twice a day,” Jaxon says, then laughs at himself. “Fuck, that was terrible, wasn’t it?”

“The worst,” I agree, but I’m grinning, even though my chin hurts, and I squeeze his hand tighter.

Marcus returns with my final paperwork, humming “Love Story” under his breath.

I glance at Jaxon and sigh. “This place is weird.”

“Your chariot awaits,” Callie says as I slide into her car, immediately grabbing the melting ice cream and noticing Jaxon at the window. “And yes, I got the good stuff. Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked heals all wounds.”

“Even dignity wounds?” I dig in anyway, ignoring Jaxon tapping on the window, the chocolate numbing my chin. Or maybe that’s the lidocaine.

“Girl, you haven’t had dignity since freshman orientation when you?—”

“We don’t speak of orientation!” I wave my spoon. Jaxon taps the window and I roll it down. “Thanks for waiting with me.”

“No problem,” he mumbles, leaning in. “I?—”

I cut him off with my spoon, pointing. “Hey, isn’t that Boat Dude?”

Jaxon shifts his gaze to where I’m pointing—a guy near the crosswalk, having a heated conversation with a parking meter.

“Oh my god,” I sit up, “that’s him!”

“Who?” Callie asks, always ready for my chaos.

“The guy! The one?—"

“Holy shit,” Jaxon laughs. “How’s he still alive?”

Callie stares at him while reaching for her pepper spray. “You know him?”

“Unfortunately.” Jaxon looks at the guy with a mix of fascination and horror. “He cooks Boat in his tub.”

“What even is Boat?” Callie asks, watching as Bus Stop Guy tries to woo the parking meter.