Page 5

Max laughs softly from the other side of Vas, as I nod and valiantly try to hold on to a straight face. With another glance over at my friend to make sure he’s still standing, I give my attention to Coach Mackenzie.

Kayla

Heyyyyyy!

Nate

Hey yourself.

Kayla

How do you feel about baseball?? I’ve got an extra ticket and no date.

Nate

Baseball, Kay?

Snooze fest.

Kayla

Boooooo

Don’t be like that.

How about I throw in a hot dog.

Nate

Okay, I’m in.

I will never say no to free stadium food.

I can pick you up in an hour.

Kayla

No way, this is my date. I’ll pick you up, handsome. See you soon!

Cranking up a random country music top hits playlist, I strip down to my boxers and stand in front of my closet, hands on hips.

Baseball really isn’t my thing, but at least it’s outside.

I’m an outdoorsman at heart, but between classes and hockey I rarely get to spend time in the sun during the semester.

Baseball might be boring as hell, but at least I’ll get a little fresh air and sunshine.

Not to mention, spend a little time with a pretty girl. Win-win.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and an olive-green T-shirt my mom says brings out the color of my eyes, I reapply deodorant and run a comb through my hair.

A cursory inspection in the mirror confirms that I’m decent enough for a date at a ballpark.

Checking the time and noting that I’ve got some to spare, I flick off the music and walk over to my roommate’s door.

“Atlas,” I call, knocking a fist into the wood and then just walking in. He’s sitting on his floor, earbuds in and books spread out in a rainbow in front of him. He glares at me as I take a seat on his bed .

“Go away,” he says.

“Hello, sunshine,” I reply, which earns me a hefty sigh as he plucks the earbuds out.

“Don’t you have sports to do? It’s Friday.”

“I did my sports for the day, and now I’m off to watch other people sport. I got asked out on a date.”

Atlas has no reaction to this other than to shift around a few of his piles of notecards. After a few minutes of silence, he looks back up at me.

“You got any plans for the weekend?” I ask once he makes eye contact with me.

“Maybe hit up a party.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. You? Please don’t bring your date here. I need to get some sleep tonight without listening to the chorus of your sexual escapades.”

Laughing, I kick his thigh with my toe. “Fuck off. I’ll text you a warning if I’m bringing Kayla back.”

“A man of the people,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Well, hey, if you aren’t going to be doing anything this weekend, some of the guys are getting together for a frisbee golf tournament. You should come.”

Atlas stares at me in shocked silence. We aren’t really the kind of friends who do stuff together, but I feel like we could be.

I like his rude, flippant attitude and dry humor, even when it’s aimed at me and a little mean.

He’s a fine roommate—I don’t see any reason why he can’t be a friend as well.

“Uhm, no, I’m good,” he replies slowly, as though still trying to work through the offer. I shrug.

“Okay. If you change your mind, just let me know. I can text you all the details.”

Speaking of texting, my phone buzzes against my leg and I pull it out of my pocket to see a message from Kayla .

“My ride’s out front,” I tell Atlas, standing and stepping carefully over his piles of homework. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun. Use protection. Don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything you would usually do.”

“Fuck off,” I repeat on a laugh, before jogging down the stairs and out the front door.

Kayla’s Audi is idling next to the curb, and I see her wave as I walk across the lawn. Popping open the passenger door, I slide in and lean over the console to give her a hello kiss on the cheek. She grins at me.

“Hello, lovely lady,” I greet her.

“Hey, Nate, thanks for coming on such short notice.” Checking the rearview, she pulls out and flips the car around to head back toward campus.

She looks great, as she usually does: brunette hair hanging in shiny waves over her shoulder, hazel eyes, and an endearing gap between her two front teeth.

She and I dated for a few weeks during our first year here, but it didn’t work out.

Now, we’re friends who occasionally hook up when the mood strikes and we’re both single.

We have fun, and there’s no strings attached. Perfect.

“I had no idea you were a baseball fan,” I comment, and she laughs.

“I mean, I’m a fan of tight, white uniform pants.” I snort. She shoots me a sly look out of the corner of her eye. I gasp theatrically and turn to face her as much as I’m able in the cramped space.

“Shut the fuck up, Kay, are you trying to make someone jealous? Am I being used right now?”

“No, of course not.” She flaps a hand in my direction. “I invited you because we’re friends, and I haven’t seen you in a bit, so I thought it would be nice to catch up. ”

“Mm-hm,” I hum, not believing a word she’s saying. “And while we are catching up at a baseball game that neither of us are interested in, what else will we be doing?”

“Okay, fine, so I might have a thing for the second baseman, and I might need your help getting his attention. Maybe make him a tiny bit jealous.”

“I am so not in the mood to be punched in the face,” I muse, which makes her laugh.

“Nobody is going to punch you in that pretty face. I’ll protect you,” she promises, patting my knee.

“Brandon invited me to come watch the game today, and then last night he posted on social media from a party he was at and he was with another girl. So, I thought, maybe a little bit of jealousy won’t hurt.

I’ll put a selfie of us on socials and write something vague about spending time with those we love. ”

“Diabolical. But okay, I’m down. And then when he calls you on it, what? You’re going to act innocent and say we’re just friends?”

“I’m going to tell the truth, which is that we’re just friends,” she says smugly.

“Girls are nuts,” I comment fondly, shaking my head.

Reaching campus, we park and trail a small crowd of students to the entrance of the ballpark. Kayla hands over our tickets and dutifully leads me over to the nearest concession stand to get my promised hot dog. When she goes to pull out her wallet, I stop her.

“I’ve got this. What do you want?”

“This is my date,” she reminds me, wrapping an arm around my waist and squeezing.

“All right, sugar mama. Buy my love.”

Snorting in a distinctly unladylike manner, she orders two hot dogs for me, one for herself, and a bag of peanuts to share.

We make it all the way to our seats before realizing we are probably going to need water to offset the amount of salt in this meal.

I head back to grab some drinks, and am just sitting back down beside her when the warm-ups end and our team spreads into the outfield for the first inning.

“Full disclosure, I have no fucking idea what happens in baseball or what any of the positions are called,” I tell Kayla around a mouthful. I love this fake dating thing—I get to hang out with someone I like, but don’t have to worry about finding an attractive way to eat a hot dog.

“Those people are going to try and catch the ball, and hit the other team’s runner,” she says, pointing to our outfield and basemen.

“You’re thinking of dodgeball,” I correct, and she bursts out laughing. “Show me Brandon.”

She points him out, and I make the appropriate “oh wow, he looks very handsome” noises that are necessary when someone shows you their crush. As though she knows I’m bullshitting her, Kayla rolls her eyes and sticks an elbow into my ribs.

“What about you? Interested in anyone these days?” she asks, and my stomach clenches like someone squeezed it in their fist. Marcos.

“No, not really.” I shrug, and try to waylay further conversation by shoving the rest of the hot dog into my mouth. It’s not lost on me that it’s a remarkably phallic-shaped food item, which brings my thoughts right back around to the place they’ve been stuck for over a week: Marcos.

“Hey, Nate,” a timid voice says from my right, saving me from any further interrogation from Kayla. I look over to see Max Kuemper standing in our row, a few seats away. I try to speed up my rate of chewing.

“Hey, Max,” I reply once I’ve swallowed, gasping. “What’s up? Here for some baseball?”

He steps a little closer, fingers playing with the hem of the gigantic shirt he’s wearing. “Yeah. Hi, I’m Max.”

“Hello! Kayla,” Kayla introduces herself, leaning around me to get a better look at him. She gestures to the seat next to me. “Are you meeting anyone? You should sit with us.”

Max thinks about this for a second, gaze bouncing around the open seats. I’m just opening my mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to sit with us if he doesn’t want to, when he steps forward and plops down into the seat next to mine.

“Hot dog?” I hold out my remaining dog, but he shakes his head. “Peanuts?”

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry,” he refuses politely.

“All right, well, just let me know. I can go get us more sustenance at intermission.”

“Oh, there isn’t an intermission,” Max says, face guilty as though he feels a little bad for having to correct me.

“The entire game is like one giant intermission,” Kayla muses from my other side, reclined back in her chair and watching the field. I laugh and we share a knowing look. A love of hockey was what brought her and I together in the first place.

“Who are you here for, Max? Or are you just a baseball fanatic?” I ask, taking a bite of hot dog number two and chasing stray mustard with my thumb.

“Well, I’m here to watch my…friend. Luke.” He points him out. “And my best friend, Marcos, plays too. He’s the catcher.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the name and send a chunk of hot dog bun into my lung. Coughing, I lean forward in my seat and try to catch my breath. Kayla pats my back as though she’s trying to burp a baby.