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7

STUPID BOY

Jamie

There’s an endless barrage of sounds around me as I stare out into my backyard. People are talking, glasses are clinking, my siblings are shrieking down by the swing set, and people are walking back and forth all around me.

It’s my birthday party, and yet I’m the least festive one here.

Of course, big gatherings plus being an introvert aren’t the best combination, but these are all people I like. And I’m having fun. I am. But the problem is I’m painfully aware of who’s not here.

It’s been almost a month since that night sitting just a few feet away on this deck with Amanda. Since I realized I had feelings for her and blew my chances with her all in one fell swoop.

I thought I had to stop things because I couldn’t have it all. When I leaned in to kiss her, I didn’t realize how deep my feelings ran. Then our lips met and everything snapped into focus. I thought it was just a crush—an infatuation that would fade in time. I thought she felt the same. But I was wrong on all counts. I had feelings for her. I have feelings for her. Worse, it seems like she had feelings for me, and I hurt her. Right after I thought I couldn’t imagine how anyone could ever let her go, I did exactly that, and the gut-wrenching heartbreak in her eyes is something that will haunt me forever.

I spent the next week trying to come to terms with that, while kicking myself for crossing that line. For screwing things up. In the weeks since, I haven’t stopped thinking about it—or her. All I want is to fix things with her, but I’m not sure what fixing it would mean. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter because she refuses to answer any of my texts. I haven’t even bothered trying to call because if she hasn’t responded to any of my apologies over text, she isn’t going to answer her phone for me.

“Hey.” I almost jump when Aaron claps me on the shoulder. He hands me a soda as he points at me. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs. “Wow. That was convincing.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re so nice to me. Now, come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Sure. But why this time?”

“Have I mentioned you’re going to be a great guidance counselor one day?” I deadpan.

That’s what Aaron is studying now, and he’s enjoying himself. It’s a perfect fit for him. He’s great with people. He’s kind, and he’s a good listener. Of course, with his friends, he’s also a shit-giving pain in the ass.

“What a shining vote of confidence.”

I roll my eyes, then look back out over the side of the deck.

Aaron grabs me by the arm and drags me away from everyone. “Seriously. What’s up? Are you bummed about turning eighteen? Usually people are pumped about that.”

“No. I mean, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’ve felt like an adult for a while now.” That’s the fun of committing your life to making it in professional sports, always hanging out with people who are older than you, and having three young siblings. You grow up faster when you’re surrounded by responsibility .

“Then what’s going on? I know big parties are hard for you sometimes, but you don’t usually look like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to punch something. Or cry. Or both.”

I blow out a breath. “I’m not that dramatic. I just… messed up. And I’m kicking my own ass about it now.”

His brow furrows. “Something with baseball?” Of course that’s exactly what he’d think. It’s what anyone would think. That’s what I get for making baseball most of my personality.

“No. With Amanda.”

I meet his gaze, watching as his eyebrows go up. “Amanda, huh?”

“Look, before you jump into meddling mode?—”

“I’m not going to jump into meddling mode. That’s reserved for the rest of the friend group. Or if you’re being an absolute idiot and need a kick in the ass.”

I rub my hand over my face. “I might.”

“What happened?”

I tell him, and the way he winces as I finish talking, confirms what I already knew. No Reddit post needed here, folks. I am the asshole.

“What do I do now?”

“That depends on what you want to happen—why you’re upset. If you’re upset you hurt a friend by crossing the line, time and space are probably going to be key in salvaging that.”

“And if I hurt my own feelings too?”

He sighs. “What do you want from her, Jame?”

Everything .

Fuck. That’s what I think every time I ask myself that question.

“I want what I can’t have.”

He narrows his eyes. “You want her because you can’t have her or you realized what you wanted too late?”

I look down, kicking at a small rock on the edge of the deck. “The second one. ”

“So, what was all that shit a few weeks ago?”

Right. The weekend after what happened with Amanda, the guys and I were going out to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, and as we do, we were giving each other shit. Aaron asked me something about Amanda and I made some dumb joke about going home with blue balls every time I was around her—not totally untrue because everything about her is a turn on—after I doubled down on the I can’t have a relationship because of baseball thing.

Aaron told me not to sideline the rest of my life for baseball, and that’s part of what made me text Amanda my fourth apology—and also sent me spinning over the fact that maybe I can have what I want. That I can have more than baseball. I’ve spent the past three weeks turning that over and over, feeling like a dick, wondering if there’s even a sliver of hope, and living with the ache of missing Amanda.

“Me being a dumbass.”

“Clearly.”

“Again I ask, what do you want from her?”

“I want to be with her,” I mumble.

“You’re going to need to sound a hell of lot more certain than that if you talk to her.”

“I want to be with her… but is that crazy? We’re apart most of the year. Who knows where baseball will take me this time next year? How can I get wrapped up in a relationship that’s destined to be difficult from the start?”

Aaron stares at me for a moment, then folds his arms over his chest. “Did baseball come easily to you? Did you immediately know you wanted to be a pitcher? Were you automatically the best?”

“Of course not. You know that.”

“And yet you’re one of the top high school pitchers, not just in New York, and you have a strong chance at being drafted next year. How did you get from there to here?”

“I worked my ass off.”

“And was it worth it?”

“Obviously, it was worth it.”

His arms drop to his sides. “Just like anything worth having is.”

Damn.

That was a perfect four-seam fastball right in the middle of my zone and I totally fucking missed it. Hell, I didn’t even swing.

“If you want to be with her, you have to fight for that. You can build a relationship over distance—in a lot of different situations—every single day. But you have to want to. And all those people out there who say relationships mess with your head? Fuck that. Not good relationships. Not healthy ones. And if you build it right, that’s what you’ll have. You’ll have something—someone—that bolsters you as you step on the mound each time. But you have to decide whether that’s what you want, and if you’re willing to put the work in to have it.”

“It’s annoying that you’re always right. How do you do that?”

He grins at me. “Easy. By fucking up and learning along the way.” He smacks my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go take your mind off it. I can rally everyone for a wiffle ball game.”

“Yeah. Okay. That sounds fun. Thanks. I’m going to run inside for a second, but I’ll meet you out back.”

“Sounds good.”

He heads for the deck stairs, while I open the sliding door, walk inside, and take the stairs down to the lower level.

When I get to the bar area downstairs where there’s another refrigerator, I pull it open and smile to myself.

I look around, then quickly pull one of the cupcakes off the stacked trays in the fridge, and lick some of the icing off as I close the door.

“You’re not supposed to eat those until later.”

I clutch a hand to my rapidly beating heart as Penny stands there, arms crossed.

“Give me a heart attack, kid. Jeez.”

“You’re breaking the rules. ”

“It’s my birthday. I can do what I want.” She stares at me. “And if I give you half, you’ll have no reason to tell anyone.”

She stares at me for another beat, then breaks into a wide smile as she holds out her hand. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I hand her half the cupcake. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

We walk over to the nearby couch and sit down, both licking at the frosting on our cupcakes.

“So, why are you sneaking cupcakes?”

I shrug. “I was feeling sad and wanted something to make me feel better.”

“Mm. Yeah. Cupcakes are good at that. But why are you sad? It’s your birthday. Did someone steal one of your presents?”

I chuckle at that. “No. I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“I hurt Amanda’s feelings.”

Penny’s brow furrows. “Well then, you should feel bad.”

“Yeah. The thing is, I really hurt her feelings, and she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you apologize?”

“I tried, but she won’t answer me.”

“Why did you fight?”

I run my free hand through my hair, then take another bite of my cupcake. “That’s complicated, but?—”

“Did she want to date you?”

I frown at that. How is she so perceptive?

“Maybe. The thing is, I did something I shouldn’t have?—”

“Did you kiss someone else?” she asks, horrified at the thought.

“No, but… it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I want to date her, but now she won’t talk to me.”

“Hm.”

She takes another bite of her cupcake, and I do the same. We eat in silence until we’re both finished, then she brushes the crumbs from her hands, dabs her mouth with a napkin, and stares me down.

“You need to grovel.”

I choke on a laugh. “What? Where did you learn that word?”

“I overheard my teacher talking to one of the other teachers during lunch. Her boyfriend did something really bad, and she said if he was going to get her back, he’d have to grovel. So I think you should probably do that.”

Damn . I’m starting to think everyone else in this family—or my life—is smarter than me.

“Any suggestions on how to do that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. But not flowers. My teacher threw those in the garbage and then grumbled something about how he didn’t even show up in person.”

Wow. I’m a little worried about her teacher right now. Maybe I should mention something to Mom about getting the teacher some chocolate from Penny. Seems like she needs it.

Which brings me back to Amanda.

I need to apologize to her in person. The question is, how do I do that when she refuses to see me?

“Can I go back and play now?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the advice.” I hold my hand up for a high five and she smacks it.

“Any time.”

Then she runs out the back door, leaving me to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Out back, I see Aaron and Joel setting up the bases.

Nothing like baseball—or wiffle ball—to help me figure it out.

I run upstairs to change into some more comfortable clothes, and as I’m walking through the kitchen on the way back to the deck, something on the bulletin board catches my eye.

An event invitation for this Thursday, and at the bottom is Amanda’s name and a logo with the words Event Queen .

We connected while deconstructing an event together. If we’re in that small of a space, she can’t avoid me all night. I can apologize in person. Then I’ll help her take everything down, buy her more sushi, and apologize some more. Looks like I better find a good suit for Thursday night.

Amanda

I love being in the middle of an event. My brain settles in the chaos, picking apart every little thing that needs to be done and handling it. I go into a weird kind of autopilot and just do all the things. It makes me feel powerful and makes time pass in a second. Yeah, I’ll crash tonight like I always do after an event, but hey, at least there was room in the budget to hire setup and take down for this one so I can just focus on running it.

When I got the call about the event from a friend of Marissa’s, I was instantly on guard, wondering if Jamie had something to do with it—since it happened less than twenty-four hours after that night on his deck. It quickly became clear it had nothing to do with him, though, and I’ve been grateful ever since. This has given me something to focus on for the last month that doesn’t have to do with baseball or a stupid boy who plays it.

That’s what I changed his name to in my phone. Stupid boy .

Something kept me from blocking him, even though by his third apology attempt I wanted to.

Who apologizes over text?

People who don’t mean it.

I tend to think I’m the problem a lot. I blame myself when I shouldn’t and think there’s something wrong with me.

Slowly, over the last few months, I’ve gotten better about not doing that. Having a big supportive friend group helps, but I also have a fuck around and find out button, and when someone pushes it, I go into angry, cut-a-bitch mode. My glare could kill you from across the room, so watch out. Most of the time it’s for my friends, but when someone really hurts me, that hardened version of me takes over to protect myself.

It’s not that I carry myself angrily, but when the person who hurt me comes around, my walls go up. As much for their protection as mine.

A quick check-in with the caterers tells me everything is going well there, so I head out to the main event area to check in with the host. This is the launch party for a small, female-owned legal practice, and I’m honored to be a part of it. They were trying to plan the party themselves before they threw up the white flag and called me. Apparently, Marissa had been recommending me for months. I should send her a thank you note, since I don’t think they’re here tonight.

But when I spin around, I second-guess that and everything else. Because staring at me from across the room, looking stupidly hot in a suit, is Jamie Henderson.

I close my eyes, take a breath, and steel myself. Walls in place.

He can’t hurt me. I don’t know why he’s here, and I don’t care. I have a job to do, and that’s more important than a stupid boy.

The only thing I hate about event planning is having to squeeze in time to eat. If I don’t eat regular meals, I turn into a raging monster until the inevitable blood sugar crash that leaves me shaking and nauseous. Unfortunately, power bars taste like dirt and leave me feeling hungry thirty minutes later, so I usually end up hiding in the kitchen and stuffing my face during a lull in the event.

Super sexy, but it’s better than me losing my shit or fainting because my blood sugar is dropping to the bad place.

One of the catering crew sets a bottle of water in front of me and gives me an understanding smile .

“Thanks,” I murmur as I reach for it, then glug down half at once.

The event wraps up in a little under an hour, so this is the last lull.

Once I’ve finished eating and drinking, I take a few deep breaths, use the nearby bathroom, and touch up my makeup, but when I walk out of the bathroom, I collide with a hard body, and when hands land on my arm, I don’t have to look to know who it is.

I jump back, shield firmly in place, and glare up at Jamie. “What are you doing here?”

I get his charming boyish grin in return. “I was invited.”

“Your parents were invited.” I know because I checked the list, so I could prepare myself if his name was on it.

“Well, I borrowed their invitation and came in their place. Penny had a dance recital tonight, so they couldn’t make it.”

“That’s nice for Penny. I’m sure she’d rather you were there too.”

I go to move past him, but he shifts slightly so he’s in my path again.

“Actually, she wanted me to be here.”

I snort at that. “Really?”

“She wants me to make up with you.”

“Uh huh. Look, I need to get back?—”

“She does. Because she knows how much it means to me. How much you mean to me.”

“Well, I’m glad your sister knows. Does she also know you’re a liar? Because how you acted doesn’t say I mean anything to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for kissing me? Or sorry for leading me on and making me feel like you wanted me when you didn’t?”

“Both.”

“Great. We’re done now. Bye.”

I shove past him, but he grabs my arm and spins me back around .

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m sorry for kissing you the way I did—without thinking it through first. Without realizing how much you mean to me.”

I bite back a bitter laugh as I clench my hand into a fist. “So now that you don’t have me anymore, you suddenly realize how much you want me? You know Passenger wrote a pretty great song about that. I’m pretty sure they still play it on the radio about a billion times a day. Let Her Go . Give it a listen, cry your feelings out, then move on. Because we’re done.”

“You don’t understand.” He shoves his hand through his hair. “Fuck. I thought we were having fun. Until I kissed you, and realized the feelings I have for you could never just be about fun. So I stopped it because I didn’t want to lead you on. Baseball has been my focus for most of my life. I didn’t think it was fair to you to offer any part of me if I couldn’t give you all of me. I thought it had to be either or.”

“And you chose baseball.”

“Yes, but… baseball is a part of me. But every day I go without talking to you, I realize how much you became a part of my life. How much I looked forward to every conversation with you. Every glance from you. Every touch.” He takes my hand, and for some stupid reason, I let him. “I thought I had to choose, but I realized I don’t want to. I can’t promise you it’ll be easy, but I want to try. Let me take you on a date. Please.”

I stare at him for a moment, then yank my hand away. “So, let me get this straight. You had to kiss me to figure out you wanted me. Then you had to miss me to realize you wanted to date me enough to make room for me in your life. Now you’re crashing the event where I’m working , begging me to go out on a date with you because now you know what you want?”

“And to apologize,” he says quickly.

“I don’t need your apologies. You cannot just come here in the middle of an event that I’m running and bring in all this personal shit. How would you feel if I stormed the mound in the middle of a game? Would that be okay? ”

He looks down. “No.”

“You’re damn right it wouldn’t. You had a month where you could’ve come to see me in person, but all you did was text me. Not even a phone call. So forgive me if your apology doesn’t come off as sincere.”

“But it is. I know I made a mistake. I know doing this would be complicated, but I’m in. I’ll do whatever I have to do. Please, give me a chance to fix this. To show you how much you mean to me.”

I slowly shake my head, channeling every bit of strength I have to keep from crying. “I did this once. I fell for someone who could never quite choose me. Not the way they were supposed to. I believed all the pretty words she told me, and I ended up with a shattered heart because of it. You can say you’re sorry a hundred more times, and that’s not going to make me believe it. Your words don’t mean anything to me anymore. If you want me to believe you’re interested in me, you’re going to have to prove it with your actions.” He opens his mouth, but I straighten up, hardening my expression. “But it won’t be tonight. It won’t be here. I have a job to do, and you need to leave.”

Then, like I did a month ago, I walk away with my head held high, because I am done with stupid people playing stupid games. I’m better than that. I deserve more than that, and I’m not sacrificing my self-worth for some pretty words. If his heart is hurting and he wants me that badly, he can man up and prove it.