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EVENT QUEEN

Amanda

“Cheers to the birthday girl!” Rae says happily, raising her glass of bubbly rosé and clinking it against mine.

My birthday was yesterday, and we had a little family party with my parents and Jace’s family. They’ve been neighbors my whole life and are like our extended family.

Today, though, this is what I wanted. A low-key night with the girls who have become my closest friends. It’s hard to believe it’s barely been a month since I met them, but people say when it’s right, you just know. And maybe they’re referring to love, but platonic love is as—if not more—important.

I think I could probably live without romantic love if I had to, but now that I’ve had a taste of this camaraderie and support, I don’t think I could go without it. Even with my former best friends, I never had a relationship like this. Unwavering love and friendship is what I’ve wanted for a long time, and it still feels a little surreal that I have it—but I’m forcing myself to quiet the mean voices in the back of my mind, and as Mackie suggested, let them love me.

After coming up with five ridiculous nicknames for Mackie—kitty boo boo, honey stuffins, Mack attack, smacky Mackie, and MacWonderful—I gave up. With a straight face, Mackie let me repeatedly call her each one. I swear sometimes she’s too easygoing. But I’m hopeful that’ll make us good roommates. I’m fairly low maintenance when it comes to anything but my emotional needs, so it should be a good fit.

And she’ll just have to live with me jumping on the hive mind train and calling her Mackie because trying to come up with over-the-top nicknames is exhausting.

“Thank you,” I say, clinking each of their glasses. “I’m older, wiser, and obviously more beautiful.”

“Obviously,” Mackie agrees.

“We’re all going to age like fine wines,” Sarah says. “Because we’ll be laughing the whole way.”

“Oh my god, yes,” I agree. “We have to be those crazy old ladies in the nursing home who are heckling the staff and playing card games all day.”

“Sign me up,” Rae says.

“Oh, and don’t forget, eating sushi,” Mackie says, popping the tops off the containers in front of us.

If I could eat only one food for the rest of my life, it would be sushi, no questions asked. These are all a bunch of specialty rolls from one of the local places, and my mouth is watering just looking at them.

Before I can dive in, my phone goes off. While I like to be present with the girls, I’ve been texting with Marissa, the woman in charge of the event I’m running next weekend.

“Sorry, is it okay if I check it? I just want to make sure I don’t miss any important event-related stuff.”

“Go for it,” Mackie says.

I quickly check it, but it’s only a text from the florist confirming the time for set up. I text back, then set my phone to the side again.

“Your event is in Ida, right?” Sarah asks .

“Yep. That massive Victorian home they recently renovated into event space.”

“Did you want to come over to our place beforehand? We could do your hair and makeup,” Sarah says.

I blink at her. Yeah, before dances my former friends and I used to do hair and makeup together like a lot of teen girls do, but there’s something different about this. Something more.

“Uh, that’d be awesome. But I might be a little gross from setting up, so makeup might not be the best plan.”

“Do you want to bring a bag to our house and shower there?” Rae asks. “Actually… do you need help setting anything up?”

“Oh, no. I’ll be fine.”

“Mm. Let’s rephrase. Is anyone helping you set up?” Sarah asks, brow cocked like she already knows she’s calling me on my bullshit.

“No,” I say, trying to sound confident.

“How much do you have to do?” Mackie asks.

Everything.

“All the decor, oversee floral placements, make sure everything is ready for the caterers.”

“That seems like a lot,” Sarah says.

“It… is.”

Rae bumps her knee against mine. We’re sitting in a circle on my bedroom floor, all cross-legged, with the sushi like a holy platter in the middle.

“It’s okay to ask for help. You’re not being a burden. You’re relying on your support system.”

I stare at them for a second, then Sarah whispers, “Ask us.”

Then they’re all whisper-chanting it.

“Fine. Will you help me set up for my event next Friday? Please.”

“That was physically painful for you, wasn’t it?” Mackie asks.

“A little.”

“Well, we’ll just have to keep practicing it then. Like immersion therapy.” Rae smirks at me. “But we’d be happy to help. We’ll all be there whenever you need us.”

“And when you’re done, you’re coming back to our place to shower, and then we’ll do your hair and makeup,” Sarah says.

“Okay.”

Mackie knocks her knee against mine. “Once more with feeling.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I let out a long sigh. “I love you all. Now, can we eat? I’m starving.”

“Whatever the birthday girl wants,” Rae says.

But as I look around at them, I know I’ve already got everything I want.

I love when an event comes together.

It might sound completely stupid that I’ve wanted to be an event planner my whole life, but for me, it makes sense. I love parties. I love creating an entire theme and decor. I love making people happy. Those are all things I get to do on a regular basis.

I probably don’t need to go to college for it, but I don’t just want to do this job, I want to excel at it, which means learning everything I can, whether in the classroom or in practice. Event planning isn’t just one job. I’m part creator, part designer, part businesswoman, part counselor—helping people figure out what they actually want—and part travel agent. All while being the head bitch in charge. Event planning allows me to use every single one of my skills to perfectly organize chaos into something beautiful.

This is the first ever event I’m hosting for someone not connected to my parents. It’s still not big. It’s a small fundraiser with a silent auction, a couple of singers, and a few poets doing readings, all to help raise money for a new county arts center.

It’s being hosted by one of the board members of the county arts council, though I’ve mostly spoken with his assistant and his wife—as he put it, he has no eye for planning, just goals he wants to achieve—and I’m the one working to make it all happen.

Watching it all happen.

Having the girls help me set up made everything go much more smoothly, and I hope if I need their help in the future, I’ll be able to swallow my pride and fear of feeling like a burden and ask for it. We also had a fantastic time while they made me look polished and professional.

I’m not wearing any fancy clothes, just a pretty oversized light tan sweater with black leggings and high-quality black low-top sneakers. My hair is smooth and shiny, and the bottom strands have been curled. I feel like a badass boss, and it’s a little strange to think that’s exactly what I am. I curated this event.

I really need to choose a business name. The other day I made some social media accounts and started posting pictures of my process, but if I’m going to take this seriously, I need to figure out my branding and a website.

But that’s future me’s problem. Right now, all I need to do is make sure this event keeps running smoothly.

“Oh, Amanda!” I turn to face Marissa Henderson. She and her husband Bill have been great to work with through the event planning process.

“Is everything all right?”

She puts a hand on my arm. “It’s excellent. I just wanted to thank you again. I keep getting compliments about how beautiful and well put together everything is. I just wanted to let you know that.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

She sighs dramatically. “I appreciate you. Bill is great about a lot of things, but planning any kind of event isn’t one of them, and with four kids, I barely keep my head on straight most days. You made everything so much easier, and that alone will have me singing your praises to anyone and everyone.”

My cheeks heat a little. “Thank you. ”

“Now, if only I could find my son.”

My brow furrows. “I don’t remember seeing any kids running around.”

Because of the nature of the event, it was adults only. There will be another fundraiser in the summer that’s more family-focused which is being set up by a different board member.

She laughs. “He’s not much of a kid anymore.” My eyes must widen, because Marissa laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment of how young I look.”

“Definitely do,” I say with a laugh.

A blast of cold hits my back as the front door swings open.

Marissa lets out a sigh. “There you are.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

A prick of awareness shoots through me, but it’s not until I’m halfway through spinning around that I register whose voice it is.

Then I’m staring at him. Jamie. Jamie Henderson , apparently.

“Hey, Mom.” He kisses his mother on the cheek, then his warm gaze sweeps over me.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the event queen.” Jamie smirks as he swaggers toward me, all fiery red hair, freckles, and aw-shucks smile. He’s wearing a suit and looking… handsome. No. That’s not the right word. He looks dapper . I don’t know who even uses that word anymore, but it’s the only one that seems right.

I suck in a breath and stop staring like an idiot since his mother is standing right there.

“Baseball boy. That’s a great name, by the way. I might have to steal it. Amanda Hamilton. Event Queen. Or maybe queen of events? I’ll have to play with it, but it could really help with my branding.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“You two know each other?” Marissa asks, pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah. Rae and the girls met her at school. Small world.”

“It is a small world. That’s wonderful. Their whole friend group is great. ”

“Yes. They are. Rae, Sarah, and Mackenzie actually helped me set things up today.”

“Well, again, it all came together beautifully. Between that and you being a friend of the family, I’ll be handing out your name as often as I can.”

“Again, thank you.”

“Of course. I need to go find Bill so we can keep playing host and hostess. Let me know if you need anything.” She points at Jamie. “Don’t cause any trouble.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m the well-behaved one in the family.” She narrows her eyes a little, then shakes her head as she walks away.

He leans in and whispers to me, “It’s true. I swear.”

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He subtly winks at me, a playful smile on his face, and it’s such a difference from the boy I met at Joel’s house who stumbled over his words and seemed unsure of himself.

He looks around the place, taking it all in. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you. Glad you think so. You know, when you said you wanted to see me in action, I didn’t think that meant getting your mom to hire me to plan an event,” I tease.

“Oh yeah. I was desperate before I even knew you. I heard all these rumblings about the event queen, and I had to see for myself. You should definitely steal that name, by the way. I have no doubt you’ll rise to the top.”

I look around the space. It’s an old Victorian home that’s been converted to serve as an event space. We’re in the grand entryway, but there’s a great room with a fireplace and a large dining room off this room, as well as a small access hallway to the kitchen.

“You think so?”

He follows my gaze, looking around the place and taking it all in. “You did all this yourself?”

“Well, there are caterers for the food, a florist did the flowers, and the girls helped me set up.”

“But… you did this.”

“I did. It was my vision, and I worked through every element to make sure it all came together perfectly,” I say confidently. Because this is the one area of my life where I know exactly who I am and what I’m doing. The one place where the negative voices can’t get to me—at least once an event is running. Imposter syndrome can yell at me as loud as it wants to until I’m in the middle of an event. Then I can’t hear it over the sound of success.

“Then yes. I have no doubt you’ll rise to the top. I’ve been to a lot of stuffy events and boring parties. This one has personality, but it’s not over the top. That’s hard to come by. Don’t second-guess yourself.”

I lift my chin. “Thank you.”

Then, without a second thought, I pull my phone out and change the handle on my social media account.

The Event Queen.

Logo and branding ideas flow through my mind, and my stomach twists with excitement… and pride.

This is what I’m supposed to be doing, and it’s time for me to invest in and shout from the rooftops about myself and my business.

Jamie

Amanda Hamilton is a force of nature.

She glides around the party in a pair of black leggings, fancy black low-top sneakers, and a long sand-colored sweater, making sure everyone has everything they need and every second of the night is running seamlessly.

I’ve been to a decent number of parties like this over the years. My parents come from old money, and while fancy events aren’t their preferred style most of the time, they’ll go to ones for causes that matter to them.

This fundraiser party—gala, whatever it’s called—is nothing like the ones we’ve been to in the past. It’s elegant, but it has personality. Which I’m sure is exactly what my parents wanted, but Amanda is the one who brought it all to life.

And I swear she never stops moving. When she’s on, she’s really on. It’s a turn on . Except that I’m not going there. We can banter and flirt and have fun—that’s obvious with the whole two conversations we’ve had—but I’m not going to risk the many friendships surrounding us by hooking up with her.

I’d rather have her as a friend than a hookup. She’s brilliant and has a quippy, sarcastic side that’s fun to be around. And that’s just what I’ve gotten to see so far.

As the party winds down, I keep trying to catch Amanda, grab her a drink, or see if she needs anything, but she’s always too fast for me. Though I do see her sneakily stretch her neck and her legs a few times.

I’ve played double headers and not been as exhausted as I am watching her tonight.

When all the guests have left, my parents go to praise the caterers—since they’ve been singing Amanda’s praises all night—and I go find Amanda. She’s slowly taking apart some floral arrangement.

“Hey.”

She jumps a little and spins around. “Hi.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. I was in the zone.”

“You’ve been in the zone all night.”

She laughs, her long hair swishing as she does. “I don’t get to leave the zone until everything is done and put away, so?—”

“Wait, you have to do all this yourself? I thought the girls?—”

“They jumped in and offered to help me set everything up. I wasn’t going to ask them to drag themselves back down here to work until midnight taking everything down. My brother said to call him if I need help loading my car.”

“But—”

“Jamie, it’s fine. The owners of the place live next door, and they said I could take all the time I needed, and just to text them when it needed to be locked up.”

“You’ve been on your feet for hours, and now you’re going to take down every single thing in this place by yourself?”

“Well, not the paintings. They came with the venue.”

“That’s it. I’m staying and helping.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re right. But I’m going to. You worked hard tonight while all I did was stand around. Helping you is the least I can do.”

“This is just so you can hold it over my head until I come to one of your baseball games, isn’t it?” She bites her lip as she smiles up at me.

“Obviously. You have to see me in my element to understand how amazing I truly am.”

“And so humble.”

“So…”

“Fine. Stay and help. But just know I’ll work you to the bone.”

I couldn’t stop the dumbass smile on my face if I wanted to. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“There they are,” Mom says, walking over with my dad.

“Amanda, this really was a wonderful event. Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”

“It was my pleasure, sir.”

“Please, call me Bill. I never want to be in any kind of formal situation with people calling me sir.”

I stifle a laugh at that, but my parents ignore me.

“I’ll be passing your information along every chance I get. Do you have any business cards?”

“Not yet. But I do have a social media account and I’m working on a website. I’ll send you an email when it’s all finished,” Amanda says without missing a beat.

“Perfect.” Then Mom turns to me. “Jamie, ready to head home? ”

“Actually, I’m going to stay and help Amanda clean up. I’ll let you two deal with the rugrats—I mean my loving younger siblings.”

Dad looks at Amanda. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s only offering to help so his siblings don’t attack him the second he walks in the door.”

Amanda tries and fails at hiding a laugh.

“Okay then, I guess we’ll see you at home,” Mom says. “Drive safe.”

“I will. Night.”

They walk out and I breathe out a sigh of relief. I love my parents, but they have the occasional tendency to be embarrassing—or totally roast me. It’s all in good fun and mostly because I’m the oldest and the easy child compared to my three younger siblings.

As soon as the door is closed behind them, Amanda sighs too. Her posture changes, her whole body softening and slumping a little. Then she pulls out her phone.

“I need sushi.”

I reach for my phone. “I can pay for it?—”

“No. You’re staying to help me. The least I can do is pay you in sushi. Anything you don’t like?”

I shake my head. “I’m up for whatever.”

“Sweet. A shit ton of sushi incoming.” She taps a few more times on her phone screen, then sets her phone down on the nearby table. “Let’s see if we can get all those twinkle lights down before it gets here.”

She walks out of the room like a woman on a mission, and I follow after her, ready to be put to work.

“Finally,” Amanda says, sitting down next to me on a tablecloth on the floor, in the center of which is the mass quantity of sushi she ordered.

She hands me a bottle of fancy sparkling water, then pulls the lids off all the containers, doing a little happy dance as she fills up a plate.

Smiling, I grab a plate and add some pieces as well, watching her all the while. I’ve never seen someone so excited for sushi before.

She sighs happily once the full plate is sitting in front of her, then grabs a piece and takes a big bite, groaning with happiness. “Oh my god, yes.” She finishes chewing, her eyes slipping closed like she’s enjoying a lot more than food. “God, I’m a slut for a spicy crab roll.”

I choke on the bite I took, my cheeks instantly burning red.

“What? Are you not used to ladies swearing?” she asks with a laugh.

I take a drink of water, then a deep breath in and out before answering. “No. I just wasn’t expecting those exact words to come out of your mouth.”

She shrugs. “No regrets. Spicy crab is the best. I would do many dirty things for one of these rolls.”

She takes another bite, letting out a happy noise.

I have no idea what I was expecting from Amanda when I first saw her, but she’s somehow exactly it and nothing like it all at once. She’s fierce but playful, and there’s a calm undercutting her wildness.

“So why event planning?”

“Why baseball?”

“Baseball chose me, and I couldn’t resist the siren song of the field.”

“Think you’ll play pro?”

“I know I will. Just a matter of how and when.”

“Confident.”

“As are you. You know you’re good at what you do. I know I’m a great pitcher. That alone won’t get me there though. I’m dedicated and constantly pushing myself to be better. If that means making baseball my life until I get where I’m going, then I’m willing to do that.”

She nods as she takes another bite. “Same.” After she swallows, she continues. “I have a nonstop drive to learn and grow. And after tonight, I’m ready to fully commit to building a business. As for how I ended up in event planning, I guess that’s also similar to you. I don’t know if it chose me, but it’s where I felt at home. I’ve always loved parties. I used to throw themed tea parties for all my stuffed animals and usually forced at least one of my brothers to participate. I was always on the planning committee for events in high school. Once an idea comes to me, I can see the whole thing laid out in my mind. It just makes sense to me. Plus, it’s perfect for someone like me who always has a hundred tabs open in my brain.”

She shrugs as she pops another piece of sushi into her mouth.

“Let me guess, you’re the oldest child?”

She smirks at me, then slowly shakes her head. “Nope. I’m the youngest. And the only girl.”

“Surprising.”

“Why? Because I’m not a spoiled little princess?” Her eyes dance with mischief.

“That’s not what I meant. Not all youngest kids are spoiled. My mom’s the oldest in her family and she and my dad’s older sister both have that oldest female child vibe where they’re always thinking of what needs to be done, don’t know how to slow down, try to do everything by themselves, and always feel like they need to take care of everyone else. You give off those vibes big time.”

Her smile falters—just for second—like it did when I made that stupid joke about how we were keeping her because she brought coffee the day we met.

She grabs another piece of sushi, nibbling on it before she says anything else.

“It might be the curse of being the only girl in the family, but I think it’s more because my brothers sucked the will to live—or at least be present—out of my parents. Don’t get me wrong, I can always seek my parents out and they’ll be there for me, but a lot of the time, I was left to my own devices. Or I was told to ask my brothers, which usually ended up in me doing it myself anyway. Let’s just say if anyone was going to get Home Alone ’d in my family, it would be me. Not because I’m a little shit like Kevin McAllister, but because the squeaky wheel always got the grease in my house, and I never learned to squeak loud enough.” She waves a hand like she’s trying to clear away all the words she just said. “Anyway, that was deeper than it needed to be, so back to you. You have younger siblings?”

I stare at her for a beat. She wants to move on like she never said those words, but I heard every one of them. And I saw the hurt from them in her eyes. She tries to do everything because she never had anyone to help her. She doesn’t want to bother anyone because she feels like that’s what needing help is—demanding attention. It doesn’t seem like anyone has ever looked at her and chosen her—until now. That blows my mind because she’s a masterpiece. Talented, witty, kind, and just wants to help.

Fuck .

I need to get out of that mental space right now. Because who am I? Another person who wouldn’t be able to choose her. Not the way she deserves to be chosen.

So I take a drink of my water and let her change the subject back to me.

“Yes. I have three much younger siblings. Penny is seven, Calvin is five-and-a-half, and Mila is three-and-a-half. Even though I’m used to the age difference, sometimes it still feels strange. Like I’m a mix of only child and older brother.”

“How’d you end up with siblings so much younger than you?”

“My parents are trust fund kids who went right into working the type of high-stress corporate jobs that keeps their families’ money strong. They barely paid any attention to me and almost got divorced before they realized how unhappy they were. They pivoted to careers they love, refocused on me and our family, and rekindled their love. Which led to my siblings. My parents are gross and can’t ever keep their hands off each other.”

She laughs. “I noticed that tonight. Your dad kept squeezing your mom’s butt when they were dancing.”

I groan, gagging. “Feel free to never tell me anything like that again.”

“It’s sweet. Wouldn’t you want that? To still feel insanely in love with your partner after years together?”

I have to give her that. “Yeah, I guess I would.”

“Of course, maybe you don’t want to get married. Maybe it’ll be all A-list parties and ball bunnies for you when you make it to the majors.”

“Maybe one of those A-list parties will be planned by you. We’ll see each other across a crowded room.”

She laughs. “Another story for the grandkids, right?”

“Exactly.” We eat in silence for a few minutes, but what she said before is eating away at me. “For the record, I do want that. Not the A-list parties. Love. It’s just not something I’m focused on right now. Plus, I’ve seen enough relationships fall apart that it makes me wary.”

“Your parents are still together. And clearly happy.”

“They are. But I guess I mean more with my friends. Like everyone thought Sarah and Trevor would end up together. We were all shocked when it ended.”

Amanda laughs and shakes her head. “As the newbie, that’s so strange to me because I can’t really picture them together. And maybe I’m reading into it, but I got the vibe that there’s something between her and Joel.”

“I have no idea. I’ve stopped trying to keep tabs on it. Then, of course, there’s Aaron and Rae.”

“Yeah, I feel like I’m learning something new about that every day. Seems like a bit of a dumpster fire.”

My lips pull flat. “To say the least.”

“You okay?”

My eyes flit to hers. “Yeah. Just frustrated with how Aaron has been acting.”

“Well, from what I’ve learned from the girls, it wasn’t just on him.”

“No. It wasn’t. But I hate seeing this downward spiral he’s in.”

“Have you talked to him since the Christmas party?”

“Yeah. I went over the next morning and pushed him… gave him a little shit. I don’t know. It’s how we’ve all always been with each other. I just want him to pull himself out of this space and fight.”

“In my experience, you can’t decide that for someone else. They have to decide that for themselves.”

“Wow. That’s very wise.”

“Well, I am nineteen now.” She playfully flips her hair.

“When was your birthday?”

“Last week. January sixth.”

“Happy belated birthday. Now I really wish you would’ve let me pay for the sushi.”

“You helping out is more than enough. Thank you.” She looks around. “We should probably get back to it unless we want to be here all night.” She carefully pushes herself off the floor, but I wait a moment, watching her.

Even though I shouldn’t, all I can think is that I wouldn’t mind staying here all night as long as I’m with her.

Thoughts like that are destined to get me in trouble.

“Look at that. Completely finished, and it’s not even midnight.”

I shut Amanda’s car door after loading the last box of stuff in the back .

“Only because you offered to help. I’d probably still be unstringing lights if you hadn’t let me put you to work. So, thank you.”

“I was happy to do it.”

She stares at me for a second, then pushes onto her toes and wraps her arms around me in a hug. Everything about her is soft and warm—comforting.

I gently wrap my arms around her back. “Does this mean we’re friends now?” I say the words, praying they don’t come off like a douchey guy trying to friendzone a girl he’s led on but isn’t actually into. I genuinely like Amanda, and since romance isn’t on my radar right now, I hope we’ll be friends.

She laughs as she lands back on flat feet. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Our eyes meet, then we both laugh awkwardly.

“So, friends usually have each other’s phone numbers, right?” I ask.

“They do.”

Continuing our trend of being weird and awkward, we swap phones and add our numbers.

When we swap back, I keep my hand on hers for a moment. There’s something about her that draws me in. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, and I don’t know what to do with it.

I know what I want to do, but that would lead to a messy can of worms being spilled everywhere, so I remind myself of the important word here. Friends.

“Well, I should probably get home and unload all my stuff.”

“Do you need any help? I can follow you.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can.” Her eyes land on mine. “But that doesn’t mean you should always have to.”

“You’re sweet.” She stares at me for a beat. “That cocky, confident thing you put on, that’s an act, right?”

That catches me off guard. It is an act. Other than the people who know me well, no one ever notices that .

I bite my lip and try to play it off. “What gave me away?”

She shrugs. “I’m good at reading people. And… I don’t know. We don’t know each other well, but I’ve only seen you slip into it around bigger groups. When it’s just the two of us, you’re quieter. Still playful, obviously still confident about baseball, but everything else falls away.” She tilts her head as she looks at me. “Introvert?”

I laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah. And you’re right. That mask is one I slip on to help myself feel comfortable when I otherwise wouldn’t. It’s easy enough to do, but it’s not the real me.”

Her eyes flit to mine again. “I can see that. It’s in your eyes. You’re happier now. More peaceful.” A mischievous smile dances on her lips. “Glad to know I make you feel that way.”

Oh, it would be easy, so easy, to lean into that. To flirt with her. To test the tension sparking between us.

It would also get me in trouble.

“You’re easy to talk to, be comfortable with. I appreciate you letting me see a little behind your mask tonight too.”

“That’s how friendships form, right?”

“Right.”

She looks around the frosty night air. “Well, I should get going. Thank you for your help tonight. It means a lot.”

“Take care of yourself. And if I don’t see you before you go back to campus, have a safe trip.”

“Thanks.” With one last look, she walks around her car and pulls the driver’s side door open. “Have a good night, baseball boy.”

“Night, event queen.”

The last thing I hear is her laugh as she climbs into the car. I step back onto the sidewalk and watch until she pulls away from the curb and makes it to the red light at the end of the street.

Hopefully tonight was the start of a solid friendship, even if the tension between us is going to make being friends with her more difficult than any other friendship I’ve ever had.