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BASEBALL BOY

Amanda

I slowly push the back door of Joel Wilkinson’s house open.

“Hello? I come bearing coffee,” I call.

It’s the first time I’ve ever been here, and Rae told me to just come in the back—no need to knock. I love how quickly this friend group has accepted me as one of them, but it’s only been three weeks, which means my intrusive thoughts are still trying to convince me it’s not serious, or they’ll drop me when they get tired of me.

Why yes, I am aware that I’m the problem.

Or the mean thoughts in the back of my mind are.

“Did someone say coffee?”

A cute redheaded boy with bright blue eyes and a big smile appears from a doorway off the kitchen.

“You must be the new one,” he continues. “I’m Jamie.”

He takes the box with multiple trays of coffee and sets it on the counter.

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Amanda.”

His hot gaze trails over me for a second, then his smile widens .

“Well, if you bring coffee all the time, we’re definitely keeping you.”

He grabs one from the box, and I do my best to keep my smile up.

I always try to be thoughtful and go the extra mile, especially for people I care about, and the girls have already made me feel at home. More than that, they’ve made me feel wanted—chosen.

I hate the insecure side of me that reminds me those nice things also help make me indispensable. No one wants to get rid of the girl who brings the coffee or the donuts or the chocolate.

Jamie tilts his head slightly, watching me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—coffee is a bonus. You know you’re stuck with them forever, right? They collect friends and make them part of the hive mind.”

His cheeks tint pink, and I find myself smiling more naturally again, partly to put him at ease.

“It’s fine. I—I’m…” Pathetic. Pathetic is the word I’m looking for.

“I don’t know if you were thinking that. I just know what it’s like to be taken advantage of by people for what you can give them. Not by this friend group. They aren’t like that. I didn’t want you to think I was doing that. Or would do that. Wow. I’m not starting off on the right foot.”

At that, I laugh. “You’re fine. Besides, what fun is it if things go perfectly smoothly? It’s a better story when we’re both stumbling over our words and acting like idiots.”

“Ah, a story for the grandkids.”

I slowly shake my head, some of the tension inside me uncoiling. “Where is—” I start at the same time he says, “What kind of coffee?—”

We both laugh.

“Sorry. Ladies first.”

I arch a brow. “I don’t know how much of a lady I am. What were you going to say?”

I swear I see a hint of color in his cheeks again, but he just smiles and gestures to the box. “What kind of coffee did you want?”

“I’ll take one of the sugar cookie lattes.”

He pulls one out and hands it to me. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“Should we come up with some sort of system? Maybe cue cards for whose turn it is to talk?”

“Some kind of script would be really useful, so I don’t say anything else dumb.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other.

“No. I believe in us. We can do this.” We lock eyes for a second, then I clear my throat. “So, where is everyone?”

“Downstairs arguing about whether to leave the table they always play cards on down there or bring it up here.”

“Sounds productive.”

“There’s a reason I jumped at the opportunity to come up here when you came in.”

“Aw, it wasn’t just to meet little old me?”

“That sounded like I needed an excuse to force myself up here, didn’t it? See, I really need a script.”

“It’s fine. It’s like a bonding activity. Plus, with all the sarcastic responses to the dumb things we say, we’re really getting to know our sarcasm compatibility, and I find that’s incredibly important for a healthy friendship.”

He laughs. “I suppose that’s a good point.”

My gaze snags on a pile of tablecloths on the counter. “So, if they’re arguing, what can we do?”

He shakes his cup. “Drink coffee.”

“I can drink coffee and get things done at the same time.”

He arches a brow.

“I’m an event planner. And a smidge type A. Something always needs to be done, and I’m here to help do it.”

“God, you sound like Thomas the Tank Engine. Must be a really useful engine .”

“Random reference. ”

“I have three much younger siblings. I know more about Thomas, Daniel Tiger, and Bluey than I do about anything else pop culture related. Unless it involves baseball.”

“Shocking. Another baseball boy.” I grab the pile of tablecloths and head toward what appears to be the dining room. “Come on!”

After a beat, he follows me. “So, an event planner, huh? I thought Aaron said you’ll be the girls’ suitemate next semester.”

“I will. But I’m not waiting until I have a degree to dive into doing what I love. Plus, event planning is hands on. The more jobs I do, the more I learn. I have my first solo job—other than stuff for my parents’ friends—in a couple of weeks, and I’m treating it as the start of my business.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Thank you. Now come on, baseball boy. Help me with these tablecloths.”

I always feel more at ease when I’m doing something. Being busy keeps my brain focused and doesn’t let me overthink. Jamie seems like a nice guy—not really surprising seeing as I don’t think Rae and the girls would hang out with someone who was an asshole. Though the girls regularly like to pick on Rae for dating some douchey guy when she was really in love with Aaron. I can’t imagine he was that douchey, though. Rae’s a force to be reckoned with.

Speak of the devil. She blows into the room, coffee in hand.

“You are amazing. Thank you for bringing caffeine.” She greets me with a kiss on the cheek, then looks at the tables. “What does your event planning eye say?”

“You guys do this every year. I’m sure you know what works.”

Rae shakes her head. “It used to just be the six of us. It’s slowly grown, but this year will be the biggest year. Give me all the suggestions.”

Well, she asked. “Okay, well—actually, what can we move? Do we need to worry about Joel’s parents? ”

She snorts a laugh. “They’re never around. Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay. Then I think we should move these two folding tables to the kitchen and make a buffet line with them and the kitchen counter. We can set up drinks in the dining room so people don’t get caught up in the line for the buffet if they just want a drink.” I peek over my shoulder. “And I think we should move the couches to the side in the living room so people can dance and move around more easily. If that sounds good to you.”

“You are amazing! I’ll go tell everyone else.”

She flies out of the room, calling something to Joel.

“Wow,” Jamie says. I almost forgot he was standing there. “You came up with all that in like thirty seconds?”

“I was thinking about it since I first walked in. My brain never shuts off.”

“Well, I hope I get to attend an event you plan at some point. That was badass.”

I smile, cheeks heating at the compliment. I’m not sure anyone has ever called my planning skills badass before, but then again, most of the things I’ve helped plan have been anniversary or retirement parties for people in their fifties and sixties.

“Maybe I’ll have to come see you… baseball sometime?”

He laughs. “Pitch. I’m a pitcher.”

“It’s a deal then. If you sneak into one of my events, I’ll sneak into one of your baseball games.”

“Amanda!” Rae calls from the kitchen.

I turn to head for the kitchen, but Jamie calls after me. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

I glance back over my shoulder. “Whatever you say, baseball boy.”

“So, what’s the protocol here?” I whisper to Sarah and Mackenzie. We’re at the edge of the room, watching as Rae smiles and tries to pretend she’s happy after having a fight with Aaron twenty minutes ago.

“Protocol?” Sarah asks.

“This is the first Aaron and Rae fight that I’ve been present for. How do we help? Go try to cheer her up? Remove her from the situation? Kick Aaron’s ass?”

“He’s kicking his own ass,” Mackie says, nodding toward where Aaron is downing another shot. I cringe.

Aaron has been nothing but nice to me, but as someone already feeling deeply protective of my little girl tribe, I’m low-key pissed at him right now. Rae walked away in tears, and while Jamie and one of their other friends went after her, I want nothing more than to uplift her now.

“Rae’s tricky,” Sarah says. “She doesn’t usually like to talk about it until she’s ready. But she could use some cheering up. Come on.”

We follow Sarah over to where Rae is standing as one of their friends tries to convince her to dance.

Sarah wraps her sister in a hug, then whispers, “Brownies and hot cocoa?”

“With caramel,” Rae murmurs.

“I’ve got it.”

I hurry into the kitchen and grab a plate, quickly filling it up with brownies. Then I find the salted caramel sauce and drizzle it over the top. Then I pour some hot cocoa into cups before digging around the kitchen like a rabid raccoon looking for a tray.

“Come on.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Aaron slurs, and my anger at him fades. He’s clearly heartbroken.

Joel and Miles help him up from the makeshift bar in the dining room and drag him toward the basement stairs. I focus on putting everything on the tray I found, trying not to stare at them .

When I turn around, I find Jamie staring at the stairway to the basement, arms crossed over his chest.

“You okay?” I ask.

He turns around, the surprise on his face quickly fading back to frustration.

“I hate seeing him do this. Getting drunk doesn’t fix his problems. It only makes it worse. There are a lot of ways I’ve wanted to follow in Aaron’s footsteps over the years, but I never want to be the person drinking to solve my problems.”

I nod. “He probably needs extra support right now.”

“Or a kick in the ass,” he mutters. Then his eyes meet mine again. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for having feelings. You’re human. Not a robot.”

“Thanks.” He glances over my shoulder at the tray on the counter. “Go take care of Rae. She needs support too.”

Then he turns and makes his way down the stairs.

After a second, I turn around too, and grab the tray to go find the girls, even though something inside me that I don’t understand wants to follow Jamie and make sure he’s okay.