“It didn’t seemfine, Ms. Blunt,” he snaps back.
My head cocks to the side because I’m not quite sure I heard him correctly. Wesley Chambers isn’t only loyal and hardworking and kind. He has a spine.
A shiver runs down my own.
“It just seemed like maybe you were uncomfortable and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I gather the last of my things, staring down at the shiny black finish. “He’s just being friendly. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I don’t know why I’m defending Richard. The words feel so rote, I can’t stop them.
“But thank you,” I say and I mean it. “For wanting to make sure.”
He nods.
“You’d better go soon,” I tell him.
“I...uh...what?”
I make a show of checking my watch. “Our first softball practice is tonight, Mr. Manager.”
“Oh.”
His eyes get wide in panic. “I have to go change. I have to gostretch.”
He walks out, his hair brushing the top of the doorframe. Warmth, like hot honey, fills my chest. I’m in trouble.
Chapter 15: Wesley
All dugouts smell the same. Like sweat, and soil, and a little bit of metal. The sounds of dugouts change, though. Some sound like the crunch of gravel under my cleats and the ringing of chain-link fences for walls. The dugout at the field we’re renting for our team practice is a cavernous cement hole that echoes and feels damp and cold even in the heat. Which is fine. It’s the smell that makes it feel like home.
The dugout ceiling is low enough that as I stand I have to hunch a little. “So...should we get started?”
No one acknowledges me. I clear my throat to try again.
“It’s...our first team practice.”
Maybe I should have clapped to get their attention. I raise my hands but let them drop. The idea of their attention makes my mouth a little dry. Part of me almost wishes I were back in that conference room this afternoon, watching Ms. Blunt kill it in front of all those execs. At least there, no one was paying attention to me.
“Wes, those pants are adorable,” Marisol says, throwing her bag down beside mine. “Where did you find them?”
I glance down at my tight pants, my socks pulled up and the matching jersey. “I, uh, still fit into my high school team uniform.”
“Of course you do,” she says, reaching up to pat my head. We both fall silent as Mark tries to give Emily pointers on her batting stance. She seems only mildly annoyed until he comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around hers and holding the bat on either side of her hands. His hips press in close to hers and her face turns red. I leap the steps out of the dugout and clap my hands together.
“Can everyone gather up over here for a team meeting?”
Emily pushes Mark off her and says something to him I can’t hear. But from the scowl on his face I hope it had something to do with fucking himself.
Everyone stands around in various athletic wear. Only a few have brought their own gloves.
“If you need gloves, I brought extras.” I point to the equipment bag at my feet. Dust kicks up as everyone rushes it. “But most are on loan so please return them to me as you found them,” I say over the din of people fighting for the best gloves.
“Who put you in charge, Chambers?” Mark sneers.
“I did.”
Ms. Blunt stands at the edge of the group. This is the first time I’ve seen her outside of the office. She seems smaller in the outdoors. Or maybe that’s just because she’s wearing running shoes instead of heels. She holds a shiny new glove in her hand. The tag still dangles from the web.
