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6

UNEXPECTED SCARS

Amanda

It’s good to be home for the summer.

Or it would be if I didn’t live with two stinky boys and my parents. Although technically it’s just one stinky boy. Pete has his own place, yet he’s always here.

When I walk into the kitchen, there are dishes everywhere, and Pete and Josh are dicking around.

Pete hits Josh with a spatula, and Josh playfully shoves him, only he does it a bit too hard, and Pete hits the kitchen table, sending orange juice spraying everywhere. Including onto my cute summer dress.

“Ugh. Really? Can you two ever behave?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Josh says.

I give him the finger. “I’m not your mother. In case you forgot, I’m your younger sister. And somehow the most mature one here.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Pete says, walking over with paper towels to clean up the mess.

I snatch one from him and dab at my dress .

“Says the person who still comes over to his parents’ house for every meal because he doesn’t want to cook for himself.”

“Mom likes it when I’m here.”

I snort at that. “Uh huh.”

“You’re just jealous that she likes us better,” Josh says.

He’s teasing me. I know he’s teasing me. He’s my brother. That’s what they do.

But the words cut like a knife. I know my parents love me, but those mean voices in the background love to ask if he’s right.

“Don’t be a dick,” Pete says to him.

“Hey, I was defending you.”

“And you don’t have to be an ass to do it.”

I put on my sassy, confident exterior. “I didn’t realize Josh was capable of anything else.”

He glares at me, then opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly hop over the sticky mess of orange juice on the floor and head for the back door.

“Have fun, boys. I’m meeting Rae and Jace for brunch in Binghamton. I’ll see you later!”

Then I hurry out of the house before either of them can say another word.

I’m ready to go back to campus and live with my girls again.

I’m allowing myself one full week of summer mode before I jump back into business mode.

I say that as I hurriedly type out a caption to the cute graphic I’m posting on my socials. Jace and Rae should be here any minute, but any extra minute is a minute to get things done.

Full week off my ass. I’d never give myself that kind of time unless I was horribly sick. Even then, I’d probably still be planning something . My brain never shuts up. I’m overflowing with ideas .

If someone could pay me to pitch event ideas to them and then put them on, it would be my dream job.

No sooner have I hit the bright blue button to post today’s graphic when a text pops up on my screen.

From Jamie .

A little burst of excitement rushes through me.

We haven’t seen each other since the weekend he came up for the baseball game, but we’ve texted—sometimes flirtatiously—since then. It’s easy to be flirtatious with him. Easy to let my guard down, and that’s not something I normally do. Especially not romantically. Though romantic might be a stretch. But there’s definitely something between us.

Baseball Boy: Heard you’re home for the summer. Thanks for the postcard.

Me: I thought people only send postcards when they travel.

Baseball Boy: Whatever. But seriously. You don’t write. Call. Text. Send a carrier pigeon. It’s like I don’t matter to you at all.

Me: You think very highly of yourself to be worthy of the event queen’s time.

Baseball Boy: Since I named you the event queen, I think I should jump to the top of your priority list. Don’t worry. I know how you can make it up to me.

Me: Is it something dirty?

Baseball Boy: Would you like it or hate it if it was?

Me: Depends on what the dirty thing is. I’ve never tried anal, so that might be a dealbreaker .

Baseball Boy: Jesus Christ.

Me: How red are your cheeks??

Baseball Boy: Not at all. You don’t know me.

Me: Mhm. So how dirty are we getting?

Baseball Boy: You? I don’t know. I’ll probably be plenty dirty and sweaty tonight… I have a baseball game. And since you owe me, I figured you might want to come.

I get a stupid smile on my face at that. We’ve been joking about me going to see him pitch since we first met, but knowing he actually wants me to come makes me feel all gooey inside.

But before I can respond, my phone is yanked from my hand.

“No phones at brunch,” Jace says sweetly. “Now where’s the new bestie? I need to suss out the competition.”

I snatch my phone back, then, resisting the urge to look at it or type a reply, I tuck it in my purse. “She should be here any minute. And there’s no competition. You’ll always be a sister to me.”

She shakes her head. “That’s just because you wanted me to marry your butt munch of a brother.” She says it so smoothly, most people might not notice the hint of pain beneath it, but Jace and I have a similar shared pain. People who made us think they loved us but didn’t choose us.

My ex did it to me. Josh did it to her. Dumbass. Especially because Jace is a total catch. She’s sweet, smart, funny—not to mention gorgeous with her golden-brown hair and freckles.

“More like I wanted my brother to marry you . You were always way too good for him. I could never wish a lifetime of marriage to Josh on anyone I like.”

She laughs at that, then grabs my hand. “Oh my god. ”

“What?” I look in the same direction and see Rae walking toward us.

Then Jace starts laughing, and the second Rae sees us, she stops and starts laughing too.

“Okay, what am I missing?”

Rae strolls over, her smile as bright and warm as the sun shining on us.

“I should’ve put this together,” Rae says.

Jace turns to me. “You mentioned all the girls’ names together, so it never registered for me, but it should have.”

“What?” I ask.

“Okay, so you know how Sarah and Mackie love to pick on me about the”—she glances at Jace—“douchey guy I dated in high school to avoid my feelings for Aaron?”

“Yes. It’s part of the friend group canon.”

“I think I probably mentioned his first name—Davey—but not his last. Edwards.”

I whip my head from Rae to Jace. My best friend and next-door neighbor. Jace Edwards . Then my head swivels back to Rae again. “Wait. Your douchey ex was Jace’s cousin?”

Jace shrugs. “I love him, but… yeah. Unfortunately, sometimes he can be that way.” She elbows me. “You know how that goes.”

“Men,” I huff, then shake my head, looking between them. “Were you two close at all? I guess we probably would’ve met if you were.”

I breathe in deep and actively work to quiet the intrusive thoughts that Rae and Jace have some pre-formed bond or like each other better than they like me. It’s a shitty thing to think. I hate that it even pops into my mind. But my insecurities always come to play, even when I didn’t invite them.

Rae shakes her head. “I mean, we always got along and hung out at a couple of family gatherings, but we didn’t really have a relationship of our own.” Rae wraps her arm around my back. “I love that we have this little connection, though. Further proof that we were always supposed to meet.”

And just like that, the intrusive thoughts slip away.

My friendships with Rae, Sarah, and Mackenzie—and the collective friendship we have together—have helped stop those ugly thoughts from rearing their heads so much. When you constantly have people building you up, it’s harder for negative thoughts to tear you down. Their support has helped me feel stronger, and it’s gotten easier for me to combat those thoughts too.

“Okay, she gets my stamp of approval,” Jace says with a big smile. “Now can we please go inside? I’m starving.”

“Yes, please.”

As we’re leaving the café after eating our weight in bagels, lox, stuffed French toast, and chicken and waffles, Rae loops her arm through mine.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“No. Why?”

“I was going to go to the high school baseball game tonight with Miles and Trevor. Want to come?”

I do my best to hide just how much that makes me smile. Jamie wanted me to see him pitch. “Yeah. Sounds good. Are you still friends with anyone on the team—besides Jamie?”

“Not really, but Aaron’s helping the coach out. No matter how messy things are… I still want to support him.”

I pull her a little tighter to me. “That’s what makes you such an amazing friend. I’d love to go. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

When we get to the parking garage, we all say our goodbyes, then split off to find our cars.

Once I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, I pull my phone out and reread my conversation with Jamie from earlier. Then I send one last text back.

Me: Mm. Too bad I have plans tonight.

He doesn’t need to know those plans are watching his baseball game with our friends. And hopefully hanging out with him after.

The voice in the back of my head reminds me that maybe I shouldn’t.

But the connection between us is undeniable, and for a few months, we’re both in the same place. Would it be the worst thing to have a little fun?

Jamie

Sometimes it’s still strange being the number one starting pitcher on the team.

Since middle school, Aaron was always there. Even when he was struggling last season, he was considered the primary starter, even though I pitched more games. And with his injury, people had more questions about him than me. Sure, people paid attention to me, and to a degree, I’ve already made a name for myself—at least across the state—but this is the first year everyone’s focus is on me. The time when everyone is realizing I don’t just have a shot at the draft, but I’ll be a strong contender. No pressure.

Aaron claps me on the shoulder and gives me a nod as I follow the guys out of the dugout to start the game. We’re at home, which means we’re on the field first. Some guys love hitting. That ain’t me. I live for the feeling of the mound beneath my feet as I stare down a batter, ready to take control of the game and bring home the win.

Aaron holds the state record for most shutouts, but if I play right this season, I’m aiming for most wins. Arguably a harder stat to pull. Shutouts are rarer, which means you don’t have to earn as many to hit that record. Pitching a shutout has never been my thing. Maybe I should care more, but I don’t give a fuck if one hit slips by me. I care more if someone crosses the plate because of it—and when I’m pitching, they rarely do.

“Kick ass, Jame,” my catcher, Z, says before heading to take his place.

“Thanks,” I call.

Z is a year younger than me, but pretty good. He got some training in with Miles last year, which helped. Miles is so damn good it’s hard to compare, but Z and I work well together. The team as a whole works well together. Unfortunately, that’s where it ends for me.

Maybe I should make an effort to change that, but working well as a team is what matters. I know who my real friends are, and those are the relationships I’d rather focus on.

Miles said he and Trevor would be here tonight, so as I walk out to the mound, I glance over to the small set of bleachers next to the fence, and almost trip over my own damn feet when I see strawberry blonde hair glinting in the late afternoon sun.

I pause for half a second, just to make sure it’s actually her.

Miss mm, too bad I have plans is sitting on the bleachers between Rae and Trevor, eyes locked on me. She arches a brow as she smirks at me, then flips a hand through her hair and looks away.

That’s all it takes to remind me what I’m supposed to be doing.

Knowing that she’s here kicks my adrenaline up a notch. Not my nerves. Fuck no. This is what I’m made to do, and I’m about to pitch the best game of my life to impress her.

Maybe I shouldn’t want to show off for her when there’s nothing going on between us, but I can’t help it. Seeing her in action was mesmerizing, and I stupidly want her to watch me and feel the same way.

We’re about to start the top of the ninth, and I’ve been fighting with Coach all game to keep me in. He says I should rest my arm. He says we should let the other team have a break—since we’re smoking them. Our best batters came to hit today, and I came to pitch. I’ve let two hits through, one of which was a home run, but I’m convinced that kid would’ve swung at any ball. He was fucking determined to break their no-run streak. It didn’t happen until the seventh, but they haven’t gotten another hit out of me yet.

I don’t give a fuck if my arm is a little tired. I don’t care that we’re leading them seven to one. It’s one more inning, and I’ve got three more strikeouts in me.

“C’mon, Coach. Please. Let me have this one.”

“Why? It won’t be a no-hitter or a shutout. What does it matter?”

I clear my throat and look at Aaron, who is staring back at me with one brow arched. I have no idea if he knows it’s because Amanda is here. The connection between Amanda and me is something I haven’t told anyone about—because they’re a bunch of meddling meddlers who think finding your soulmate and getting married at nineteen is just what people do. Small towns. But Aaron is perceptive as fuck, so there’s every chance he knows. He doesn’t call me on it, though. Instead, he waits to see what I say to Coach.

“It proves my stamina. I’m still pitching well, and I can close out this game. It’ll look good to anyone who’s watching me and prove what I’m capable of.”

Coach glances at Aaron, who shrugs.

“Fine. But if you injure yourself, it’s on you. Got it?”

“Got it, Coach.”

“All right. Get out there.”

I tug my cap farther down and jog out to the mound. There are a handful of cheers from the bleachers, but I don’t look to see if Amanda is one of the ones cheering.

The only thing I need to do is close out this game. Earn the win all on my own. Yeah, yeah. Baseball is a team sport. But it starts with the pitching. Hitters aren’t assigned a win or a loss at the end of the game. No infielders or outfielders have to worry if they get an extra L on their record. But pitchers do. We carry a certain responsibility for the game.

And tonight, I’m carrying us to the win.

I throw a couple of pitches with Z, then the first batter for the other team steps into the box.

Then I take a deep breath and do what I do best. My first pitch is a slider. And when the umpire calls it a strike, I smile to myself.

The thump of the ball hitting my glove sends a high through me, and I’m ready to go again. It’s an easy one-two-three strikeout for this batter. Next guy up reaches for pieces of the first two pitches and fouls them off. I blatantly throw one a little high and outside, just to see if he’ll reach for it. He does. If he’s going to swing no matter what, I need to throw him one that’ll make him miss.

So I rely on my old favorite. Two-seam fastball. And when the batter leans into the swing, I already know he’s a second too late and swinging too high. When the ball lands in Z’s glove, the batter walks away, muttering under his breath.

Another round of cheers come from the bleachers, but again, I focus on the plate.

Of course, it’s my luck that the next batter up—the last batter up—is one of the best hitters on the team. He hasn’t gotten anything tonight, so he’s out for blood.

Z signals to me, and it’s already what I was planning. There’s nothing like a changeup to throw off a hungry batter.

And it does its job. It looks like a fastball coming out of my hand, but it’s much slower, and when a batter is desperate for a hit, they won’t be patient. They’ll swing like it’s a fastball and miss.

Strike one.

For the first time, I steal a glance over at the bleachers, just long enough to see Amanda’s eyes locked on me.

Two more strikes.

The next pitch is a fastball that he hits but fouls off.

And that’s the last ball he’s touching. I’m determined now. Which means it’s time to break out my specialty.

The two-seam fastball is one of my best pitches, but best isn’t the same as a secret weapon. Aaron loved to throw a screwball to throw people off. Me? I mastered the cutter.

The cutter is similar to a fastball, but a little slower, and it curves the opposite direction as a two-seam. But coming out of my hand, he won’t know that.

With one last nod to Z, I center myself, tune out the rest of the world, and throw.

“Strike.”

Fuck. Yes.

Z and my teammates come to congratulate me, but my eyes are on the bleachers. Amanda is standing and cheering. When she sees me looking at her, she shrugs her shoulders while smiling, as if to say, what’s the big deal?

I shake my head, and as I break free of my teammates, I snag a ball from Z and make my way to the fence.

Miles, Trevor, and Rae congratulate me on the game—though Rae’s eyes quickly go to Aaron standing by the dugout. Amanda stands to the side, listening as they talk, but not saying anything.

Trying to be covert, I pull the marker I stashed in my pocket at the beginning of the inning and sign the ball I’m holding.

When Rae, Miles, and Trevor go to meet up with Aaron, Amanda lingers behind, that playful smirk creeping onto her face.

“Funny seeing you here. I thought you had plans tonight.”

She shrugs. “I managed to make room in my schedule. ”

“And was it worth it?”

She tilts her head back and forth. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?”

For a moment, there’s a glimpse of sincerity on her face.

“You were amazing. I guess I get what all the hype is about now.”

I clutch a hand to my chest. “Why are you always trying to hurt my feelings?”

“Someone has to keep your ego in check.”

She’s teasing me like we always do, but the tone of her voice makes me wonder just how much she sees.

And that’s a road I don’t want to go down… so I lean further into my cocky side and hold up the ball.

“Speaking of. This is for you. Might want to hold on to it. Who knows how much it’ll be worth someday.”

I toss it to her and she easily catches it, laughing as she looks at my signature.

“You really think a lot of yourself.”

“What can I say? You showing up was an ego boost. Even if you did lie to me.”

“It’s not my fault you never asked what my plans were.”

“And if I ask if you have plans after this?”

“I do.” She leans in. “I’ll be hanging out with the Ida Warriors star pitcher.” She flips a hand through her hair. “Want me to get you an invite?”

She watches me as I drag my teeth over my bottom lip like I’m thinking about it. “You better.”

“Henderson!” Coach yells.

“Gotta go. I’ll see you in a few. Remember, hold on to that ball.”

“Wow. This is… massive.”

Amanda blinks up at my house.

“It is, but with three younger siblings running around, it has a tendency to feel small. C’mon. This way.”

I lead her around the side of the house, then key in the code on the gate that opens onto the wrap around deck. When we get around to the back of the house, I turn on the gas fire pit and flick the switch for the lantern lights.

“Hopefully, no one will bug us out here.”

“Your parents don’t seem that bad.”

I give her a skeptical look. “Trust me. They’re wild cards. Plus, if my younger siblings see you, they’ll have a billion questions to ask. Especially Penny.”

She sits down on an oversized outdoor loveseat, and I take a seat next to her.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting them someday. If you were cool with it. Penny sounds fun.”

“She is. Even if she knows exactly how to push my buttons. And I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

She tilts her head. “You know, that sounds like you’re playing off the answer she’d love to meet me. But I said if you were cool with it.”

“I’m cool with it.”

Amanda slips her shoes off and extends her feet closer to the fire, wiggling her toes.

After the game, we went for dinner with Aaron, Rae, Miles, and Trevor, and I had to spend the whole night pretending Amanda wasn’t across the table from me. Keeping myself from staring at her was a challenge. She draws me in. I’ve never felt like that before. This insatiable pull to be near her. Not to mention she’s hot as fuck, sarcastic, and witty—which are also turn ons.

I want her. I want her when maybe I shouldn’t. This can’t go anywhere, can it? In three months, she’s back at school. In a year… fuck, I don’t know where I’ll be. Aiming for a D1 college or headed for professional ball? I still don’t know which path to take. So metimes I think I’m sure what would be better, then I wake up and think something else.

Amanda runs her finger down my arm, jolting me back to reality.

“Where’d you go?”

I look down at the flames. “In my own head. Introvert problems.”

She laughs. “I don’t know. I’m pretty extroverted, and I do that a lot too. I have a pretty entertaining internal monologue. Easy to get lost in.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

She shrugs, smiling brightly. Mischief dances in her eyes, and I want more. I want to know more.

“So, tell me something about you.”

She gestures to herself. “What you see is what you get.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve seen everything yet. What do you do for fun? What’s a secret you don’t tell many people? I don’t know, I just want to know more.”

I want to know everything.

Saying that feels dangerous though.

“Okay, for fun… Rae and I started doing kickboxing together in January and I love it. It’s been great for my strength and stamina, but also my mental health. My favorite thing to do before I go to sleep is curl up under my blankets with a cup of tea and read. Total granny hobby, but the relaxed side of me is a bit of a granny.”

“It’s good to have balance.”

“I’m striving for that. I tend to overwork myself and not slow down. Hanging out with the girls has helped with that. For how much they have going on, they’re surprisingly good at balancing it all.”

“So kickboxing, reading, reigning as the event queen. What else? Do you spend a lot of time with your family?”

“What those three things aren’t enough? Actually, make it four. I also play volleyball. I played in high school and I do a rec league during the summers. I’m excited for it to start this year. As for my family… I don’t know. We’re close, and we do a couple of family trips each year, but with my oldest brother out of the house now, a lot of that stuff is few and far between. I know I can always rely on my parents, but we don’t seek each other out to do stuff other than monthly family dinners.”

There’s something haunted in her eyes when she talks about her family. Even though it quickly fades, I want to know more.

“I hate seeing that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

“It’s like a deep, permeating sadness. It never lasts long, but I get the sense it’s always inside you.”

She clears her throat. “That’s very perceptive.”

“That’s the story of an introvert. We’re always watching what’s happening around us, even when we aren’t saying anything.”

“It makes me wonder what else you see.” So much . But she continues before I can say anything. “I’ve had my heart broken, and it leaves unexpected scars.”

I don’t know who the fuck would ever break her heart, but they must be the biggest idiot on the planet. How could someone not know what they have when they have her? She’s so honest. So genuine. And while all of her is gorgeous, her heart is fucking stunning.

“What about you, baseball boy?”

I stare at her for a beat longer, then let go of the rest of the questions I want to ask her.

There’ll be time for those later.

Or there won’t be, in which case, it’ll be better that I didn’t ask them.

“What about me?”

“What drives you?” She sighs heavily. “Let me guess. Baseball?”

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m a simple man.”

“Boy,” she teases .

“I’ll be eighteen in three weeks. Man .”

“But baseball boy has a better ring to it.”

“I’ll always let you call me that, event queen.”

She tilts her head. “I think I just like queen . Ooh, or you can call me Your Majesty .”

I bite back the first thing that pops into my head.

Only in the bedroom.

Because fuck. I should not be thinking of Amanda like that. Except I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to. I’d rather beat off to thoughts of her for the rest of my life than ever look at porn again.

Amanda elbows me. “Come on. Tell me something. What’s your secret? What don’t you share with your family or the chaos of the hive mind?”

“Okay,” I say slowly. I don’t really talk about this with anyone. I probably should, but it’s hard for me to not act totally confident about baseball. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

She turns on the loveseat so she’s facing me, tucking her feet underneath her.

“What do you mean?”

“I have a lot of decisions to make about baseball over the next year, and it’s scary as fuck. I have no idea where to start or how to handle it. I read blog posts and shit online, but it mostly confuses me more.”

“What are you struggling with the most?”

“Whether to go to college or hope for—push toward—the draft.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’m not sure that matters.”

Her brows pull in. “I think that’s the only thing that matters.”

“Not necessarily. It needs to be the best career decision for me.”

“Do you truly believe—throw that cocky shit in the fire because I need the real Jamie to answer this. Do you believe you can make it to the majors either way?”

“Yes.” Because no matter what path I take, I will learn and grow and prove myself. I’m committed to this dream, and I’ll see it through on any path.

“Then it’s not really about a career decision. It’s about what will make you happy. So take some time and figure out what you want. Only you can decide that.”

I stare at her for a moment. “That’s very wise.”

“Obviously. I’m brilliant.” She gives me her biggest smile.

“You’re something.” But brilliant doesn’t begin to cover it. I let out a long breath. “Thanks for coming to watch me play tonight.”

“Thanks for inviting me. I would’ve come either way, and I’m glad I did. Watching you play tonight was fun. Special. Your talent is clear, but it’s the way your love of the game shines through that sets you apart. I’ve seen Joel play and Aaron coach, but this was different. You belong on the field.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Because I’m such a die-hard baseball fan?” she deadpans.

I shift closer, my gaze roaming over her gorgeous features. Her eyes are light brown with a shimmery bronze glint. Like everything else about her, they captivate me.

Her question, though playful, dances in my mind with varying answers. The bantery, flirtatious answer or the serious one.

When I look into her eyes, it’s impossible to give her anything except total honesty.

“Because you’re passionate. You work hard at what you do, and there’s no doubt you’ll achieve every goal you set, then raise the bar higher. That you see something similar in me means a lot.”

Her eyes lock on mine, and slowly, she moves closer to me, like she’s caught in my orbit and can’t help but be pulled in.

When she speaks again, her voice is low. “You’ve only seen me at one event. I’m not sure that’s enough to know?—”

“It is. Take the compliment. I mean it. You know what I thought as I watched you flawlessly run that event?”

“Hm?”

“That you were mesmerizing. And you were. Brilliant and charming and one step ahead of every problem.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I keep going. “But at the event isn’t the only thing I’m talking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tonight, at dinner, I noticed you tapping away on your phone, and when I caught a glimpse, I realized it was a lengthy to-do list. Then, I noticed you scribbling some design on a piece of paper you dug out of your purse. You’re always thinking, always planning, but you’re also paying attention. You were constantly glancing at Rae, making sure she was okay, making sure she didn’t need you to jump in or change the subject, and I saw every time you reached for her hand or said something to make her laugh right when she needed it. I saw you reach for Trevor’s hand when he was talking about a possible future in baseball and how sad he is that his dad is missing all of it. Yes, you’re passionate about what you do, but you’re also passionate about the people in your life. You care about them. And everything you do is done with intention. That’s rare. I hope you see that.” I lift my hand and tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I hope you know how special you are.”

Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she stares at me.

“You noticed all that?” Her voice is soft and raw.

Her gaze connects with mine, and I’m moving closer without realizing.

“It’s impossible not to notice you. You stand out, like a shining light in the darkness. Like a bold splash of color. My eyes are always drawn to you.”

I comb my fingers through her hair as my eyes drop to her lips.

Her fingertips dance over my arm, lighting a fire beneath my skin. A fire that burns through my whole body, propelling me forward, until her breath is on my lips.

“Jamie…”

The desperation in her voice makes me lose all control, and I slant my mouth over hers, doing what I’ve wanted to do since that night we sat on the floor eating sushi.

Her lips move against mine, then her tongue drags over the seam, and I take the invitation.

And when her tongue touches mine? Holy fuck.

I’ve kissed a lot of girls. It’s no secret I like to hook up.

But this?

No. This isn’t kissing. This is cracking my ribcage open and exposing what’s beating inside there.

And that’s something I’ve never felt. Never done.

Her soft lips move against mine, her tongue playfully teasing me, and all I can think is that I want more. So much more.

More of her. More of us.

Except. Fuck me. There isn’t any us. There can’t be any us.

What the fuck am I doing?

I can’t give her what she deserves. I can’t give her all of me.

Which means I shouldn’t be doing this.

Amanda

Jamie’s satiny lips violently tear from mine.

When I lift my eyes to meet his, the cozy warmth I was surrounded in shatters and falls away. Coldness seeps in, and before he can say I word, I jolt backward.

He extends a hand toward me. “I’m sorry.”

And even though I told myself I knew nothing could happen. Even though I was ready to just have fun… those words break something inside me.

“I shouldn’t have…” He opens and closes his mouth a few times, searching for something to say, but it’s pointless. “You’re incredible,” he stammers. “But baseball has to be my focus right now. I don’t have anything else to give.”

I nod as I stand and smooth out my clothes, holding my head high and keeping my face a stoic mask to hide the pain shooting through me, aiming straight for my heart. I don’t know when I got so caught up in him, but it was a mistake. Fuck crushes. Fuck people who make you think they want you, then change their minds. Fuck love. I’ll stick to hook ups. That’s what I should’ve done this whole time. The second I felt anything for Jamie, I should’ve put distance between us. That’s on me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Kissing me when he knew he wouldn’t choose me is on him.

I glance down at him one last time. “No. You shouldn’t have.”

Then I walk away, keeping my shaky legs strong.

“Amanda,” he calls after me, but I don’t look back.

He may not have been trying to hurt me, but I got the message loud and clear. There’s chemistry between us, but chemistry is nothing compared to love. His first love will always be baseball, and there’s no chance I’d ever compete with that.

I’m exhausted when I get home. Thanks to the makeup wipes I keep in my purse, I don’t look like a raccoon anymore, but my eyes are still red and puffy. I hate that I cried over him. That I gave him that power.

It takes me a minute to climb out of the car. I just want to magically teleport to my bed where I can wallow for the night, then get up in the morning, put my big girl panties on, and move forward.

None of the friend group needs to know about this. Even though it’s unlike me to keep things from the girls, I kept my crush on Jamie a secret because that whole group likes to meddle—not that I can say anything, I meddle for them too—and I didn’t want to deal with that.

It’s for the better now. We can move on. I can play the friendly part when I have to with Jamie. Otherwise, I don’t plan to talk to him anymore .

When I get in the house, the first thing I hear is my brothers talking.

Ugh. The last thing I want is to deal with other humans right now.

“That’s what you get for being a dick, Joshy,” Pete says, laughing as Josh swears at him.

They’re splayed out on the living room couches playing video games.

“Hey, Mands,” Pete says, but when he looks up at me, his brow furrows. “Are you okay?”

Josh looks up too, and it’s a fifty-fifty chance on whether he says something that makes me want to punch him or if he threatens to beat someone up for me.

And I can’t handle either one, so I turn around and walk out the back door, down the steps, across the lawn to Jace’s house, then climb onto the doors of the storm cellar like I’ve done hundreds of times, and knock on Jace’s window.

The latch unclicks, and that’s all the invitation I need to open it and climb through.

I shut it behind me, then slip off my shoes and climb into bed next to Jace.

“What happened?” she whispers.

“Remind me to stop catching feelings for people who don’t actually want me.”

Jace rolls over and wipes a tear off my cheek.

“If they don’t choose you, they don’t deserve you.”

She squeezes my hand then rolls onto her back again. I repeat those words over and over as I stare at the ceiling, trying to reinforce my self-worth. But as I drift off to sleep, it’s the thrumming ache of rejection that surrounds me.