Page 10 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

“Ball!” Coach Lewis, the assistant for hitting, infielders, and catchers, shouts from home base as he tosses the ball up in the air and swings the bat, striking it hard in my direction.

Staying low to the ground, I quickly shift on my feet, watching the speed and direction of the ball. Once I get in front of it, I turn my glove over, sweeping it forward and catching it backhanded. Then I rapidly shift on my feet, aligning them, and throw it to the pitching net on the first base.

I catch my breath, easing from my position when he waves his hand, signaling that practice is over.

During the offseason, practice is brutal. We’re on the field six to seven hours a day, in the batting cages for an hour to an hour and a half, weightlifting to build mass, then on the weekends we have scrimmage.

It’s exhausting, but I welcome being busy. It helps me from staying in my head, especially now more than ever.

I can’t stop thinking about Josie and the hurt look on her face. Her eyes glazed with sadness, and became distant and heavy.

Because before the cliff, you didn’t know who I was, even though I knew who you were.

I feel so clueless because I don’t know what she meant by that. And she thinks I pity her—fuck, that’s not what I wanted her to feel.

They lower the music as we all gather around Coach D now that practice is over.

Angel stands next to me and bobs his head to the beat of “Moscow Mule” by Bad Bunny. Bryson subtly curls his lip, contempt flashing across his face at the music. That only causes Angel’s smile to deepen and quietly mouth the words to him.

Bryson rolls his eyes and directs his attention to Coach D.

He can’t stand that it’s in Spanish. He’s thrown fits, saying it’s unfair he has to listen to something he can’t understand. No one has ever had an issue with the music and all, minus Bryson, vibe with it.

Not sure when it happens, but I zone out staring at Bryson. When his eyes meet mine, his brows furrow but then they soften and he smirks.

I know the intention behind it. It’s the I fucked your girlfriend and she loved it smirk.

Usually, those smirks piss me off and I have to repeatedly tell myself not to punch him. But I surprisingly don’t feel anything but annoyed.

What did Josie see in him? Why him? Was she devastated when she found out Bryson cheated on her? Is that one of the reasons she wanted to end it?

“Stop looking at him,” Angel whispers.

I look away, forcing the irritation and anger away. It hadn’t been there before, but now I’m really fucking angry and have the desire to do more than just punch him.

“All right everyone, get a partner. Sparky, get us going,” Coach announces.

That manages to diffuse the resentment fueling me.

After every practice, Coach D has us stand at the line in front of one of the guys and bump chests or high-five each other.

I stand in front of Angel, smiling as he continues to bob his head and now shimmy his shoulders. But it somewhat dips as I think about Adrian and what life would’ve been like if he was here with me.

I shake out of it, knowing the guys are waiting for me.

“All right, boys, you know what to do. Go big or go home!” I shout as some of us take a few steps back and when we’re far away enough, run toward our partner who is doing the same, jump in the air, and bump our chests against theirs.

We do it a few more times, me giving them words of affirmation and enthusiasm. After all, I’m their captain.

We circle around Coach again. The atmosphere is lighter now. Even Bryson seems to be in a decent mood.

“I’m proud of all the hard work you’ve all been putting in this offseason.

From my pitchers and my outfielders to my infielders, you guys are doing an absolute great job.

I can see you’ve all been working hard, and it’ll pay off this coming season.

” Coach D pauses, a miniscule smile tipping on his face before it fades.

“Don’t get cocky; keep working hard and don’t slack off in or off the field.

Now let’s have a good lift and then we’ll call it a day. Nice work, gentlemen.”

“Bring it up,” I say as he takes a few steps back and I step in the middle, raising my hand and the guys follow suit. “ Family on three.”

“One. Two. Three. Family !” we raise our voices in unison.

We all disperse, grabbing our stuff, and head out of the field to the weight room.

“You know that saying if looks could kill…” Angel trails off as he throws the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

I nod, not sure where he’s going with that.

“You’ve never looked at Bryson that way, and today you did.

Look, I know Amanda was your girlfriend and I hate that that happened to you but?—”

“This isn’t about Amanda,” I interrupt but regret it. “I mean this isn’t about either one of them. I zoned out and didn’t realize I was staring at him.”

“You could detonate the whole goddamn world with the way you were staring at him.”

“That’s dramatic. I can’t help the way I look. Can I not make faces anymore?”

“You can. You can make all the faces you want, but that face was something else.”

“I was just thinking of something I did.”

“What did you do?” He smiles, sounding entertained.

I swallow hard. “I emailed Josie about swimming lessons.”

He comes to a complete stop, but I only slow my steps.

“You did what?” he asks, dumbfounded. “When?”

Angel catches up to me, his gaze laser focused on me, but I still don’t look at him.

“Last night,” I replied coyly. I have no desire to learn how to swim.

I don’t mind getting in the water, but I refuse getting in the deep end.

I didn’t message Josie with the intention of actually learning; I just wanted to know why she was upset at me.

I wanted to know what I did wrong because I want to fix it.

“But I was being funny. Since I don’t have her number and needed to ask her something about the class, I figured she’d reply, but she hasn’t. ”

That’s what I get for listening to Gray. Last time I do something like that.

At his silence I say, “Also, don’t tell Gray about it. I don’t need him gloating.”

Still, his silence extends, making me feel uncomfortably warm until he finally talks.

“But you’re—is everything good?” Angel sounds genuinely concerned. It throws me off.

“Yeah, why?”

He stares at me skeptically. “You’re weird about the water. How are you going to?—”

“I told you I was just being funny. I’m not going in the water, especially with her of all people.”

“But what would you do if she were to answer?”

I think about it for a moment but shake my head. “I highly doubt she will.”

The next day, I pull into the parking lot of the trail we’ll be walking today. Because it’s the first, Professor Carleson said we’d start with something light, nothing too exerting. But said as the semester progressed, the trails would be longer and steeper.

Josie is already here. She’s standing by her car, camera in hand, staring at the ground. She must be deep in thought because she doesn’t look up when I approach her.

“Hey, Jos.” I dip my head, smiling down at her.

She doesn’t acknowledge me and pushes away from her car when Carleson makes us all gather around him. He goes over a few rules, the same ones he went over in the classroom, and then he’s guiding us into the trail.

We all walk side by side with our partners. Most of them are talking amongst each other or listening to Carleson as he explains the history behind the trail and marvels at the beauty of it.

I’m doing neither. It’s hard to focus on a thing he’s saying because all my attention and energy is generated towards the girl next to me.

She’s staring straight ahead, still hasn’t talked to me, and I believe she’ll spend the rest of the trail ignoring me until she looks up at me thirty minutes later.

Aggravation mars her face. Her eyes are hardened, mixed with anger and irritation.

“What are you playing at?” she accuses.

My brows draw in confusion. “What are you?—”

“Swimming lessons? Are you serious?” she scoffs patronizingly. “Is this some joke? Who put you up to it? Was it Bryson?”

“What, no. Bryson didn’t put me up to anything.” I detest him, but I don’t tell her that.

“Isn’t it funny how he and his dumbass friends have said the exact same thing on the subject line of the email.” Fury springs in her voice. Her jaw is ticking, and her lips are set in a tight line.

Dammit. I knew I should’ve gone with something different.

“It’s not like that. Matter of fact, I don’t really talk to Bryson, and he didn’t put me up to anything. I—” I pause, my heart hammering fast. “I don’t know how to swim,” I voice quietly.

“Right,” she drawls. “Are you going to tell me your member also needs help floating?”

“Member? What are you?—”

Her gaze draws down below my waist. I grind my teeth, swallowing down my frustration, not at her but at Bryson.

I grab Josie’s arm and pull her to the side. Thankfully, we’re all the way in the back, so no one notices we’re not following along.

She jerks her hand back, fury brimming in those pretty brown eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I don’t give a damn that you’re six foot five, I’ll beat your ass if you touch me again.”

I need to focus but I’m still stuck on the fact she knows exactly how tall I am.

“You stalking me?” I smirk at the realization in her eyes.

“Wh-what?” she stammers. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You don’t touch a girl without her permission, ever, Garcia.”

And now I’m stuck on the way she said my last name. Why did that sound hot?

Focus.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to know I have no part in whatever that piece of shit has done or said. But if he or any of this friends try that again let me know and I’ll?—”

She folds her arms defensively. “I’m not helpless. I don’t need your help.”

“I never said you were, but you don’t have to handle it alone. And I want you to know, I’m not pretending to care or doing this out of obligation. I want you to know that I’m here for you.” I smile at her.

Her gaze locks in on my lips and for a moment she softens but it’s only brief. She goes quiet then sighs. “I didn’t mean for you to witness that moment at the cliff, but you need to let it go. I’m not dead, and we’re not friends. Colors and names don’t mean shit. So do us both a favor and move on.”

“Why? What’s so bad about me, we can’t be friends?” I challenge.

She must’ve not expected that because she looks surprised. “Because…because…” she groans exasperatedly. “Why are you so insistent? If you’re trying to save me because you think I’m some broken?—”

“Because if I’m not, who will be? I just want to be here for you. That’s all.”

Her brows hike up, stupefaction written all over her face. She glances down, drops her arms, and twirls the ring around her finger. She grows quiet, and I almost break the silence until she looks up at me.

“You’re so fucking…”

“I’m so fucking what?” My lips tempt to curl upward.

“Fucking frustrating. You and your goddamn insistence.” She quietly groans.

Now I can’t stop them from lifting all the way up. She glares at me, and I only smile wider. “Would it make you feel better if I told you?—”

“No, no it wouldn’t.” She sulks.

I laugh. “You didn’t let me get it out.”

“I don’t need to hear what you have to say.” She huffs. “Do you really not know how to swim, or are you messing around?” She stares at me intently, inquisitively.

I mask the shock at her question. “I really don’t know how.”

“I don’t work with adults or men because I teach the lessons at my house.”

Thank God. I didn’t want to go through with this. “I get it. You really don’t?—”

“If you pull anything weird, I’ll break your arm. And don’t test me, Garcia, because I will,” she threatens.

It’s harder this time, but still, I manage to somehow conceal my shock. Holy shit, it’s happening. Wait no. This is a bad idea. A really bad idea. I’m a mess in the water.

“You really don’t have to?—”

“You’re not getting this offer again.”

I don’t want to do this, but spending more time with her wouldn’t hurt.

“I’ll just be wasting your time. I don’t think I’ll learn and?—”

She raises her hand for me to stop talking when she pulls her phone out of her black belt bag. She types something and then I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my shorts.

“I texted you my address.”

She didn’t have to do that. I memorized it the moment I left her house. Just in case she ever needed me. It was a reach, and I know she never would, but it’s good to be prepared.

“You don’t have to worry about it.” I plaster on a playful smile, hoping she can’t read between the lines and see and feel my trepidation. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. Knowing how to swim is important. I’m going to teach you and then we’ll go on about our lives.”

I know what she means by that. We’ll never interact with each other once it’s over. And I realize this is probably her way of returning the favor.

Except I don’t want anything in return but for her to be happy, safe, and okay.