We do it, again and again. Sometimes I catch the ball and sometimes Adler does. Sometimes neither of us does and Coach scrubs a hand over the back of his own neck in frustration. “Forsyth, you’re out of position,” he calls.
So is Adler. But I scramble back to where I’m supposed to be standing on the field. I can run a clean route to the ball in my sleep, if nothing else.
“All right, boys, last one.” Coach hits the ball again.
I race in; Adler runs diagonally. This time when I yell, “I got it,” he pulls off…too late for me to slow down. I catch the ball, and we go down again, me on top of him.
But the ball stays in my glove. Success, or some success, anyway.
Adler’s under me, laughing up from the grass. “If you wanted to tackle me, you could have just said so.”
“Mostly, I just want to rub your face in the dirt.”
Adler’s mouth does that infuriating smirk. “Kinky.”
“Fuck you.” I clamber off him as fast as I can.I’m not— We weren’t—Denying something out loud only makes it worse, even if Adler is still lying in the grass, smirking up at me. His T-shirtis rucked up, revealing a few bare inches of his torso. Coach is clearly watching us. I need to prove to him I’m ateam player, even if I want Adler off this team. So I extend a hand to help him up.
For a moment, Adler looks like he might knock my palm away. Then he takes it, pulling himself to standing. Only he doesn’t drop my hand once he’s there. He turns my wrist over, examining the back of my arm where I have a long, now-healing red scratch. “Lose a fight?” he asks.
“No.” I yank my hand back. It’s not like I’m going to tell him the truth—that the scratch came from Savannah’s demon cat, who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.Just like her mother.
“Get a new cat?” Adler says it knowingly.
The scratch on my arm starts to throb. “Yeah,” I admit. “Savannah wanted one.”
“You didn’t?”
“I pay for its food and upkeep.” Because if I did nothing else good this week, handing Sav my card and letting her run amok at the pet store at least…didn’t feel bad.
Adler raises a dark eyebrow at me. “And that makes the cat yours?”
I don’t like the way he says it, but I don’t like the way he does most things. “Generally, that’s what taking care of something means, yeah.”
For a moment, he just frowns at me as if I’ve said something weird. “Well, you be sure to take care of that cat.” And as he walks off, I swear I hear him say,Or someone else will.
Chapter Nineteen
Savannah
A few minutesafter the game ends—the Peaches scraped out a win over Washington, Brayden with a single, a hit by pitch, and a long fly ball that died a few feet short of being a home run—my phone buzzes twice.
Brayden: I’m going out
Not exactly surprising. From a few chairs away, Lexi is gathering her things. She pauses occasionally to peer over at what I’m typing. Well, that’s one way to stay informed about team business. I try to discreetly cover my phone with my hand as I type.
Me: k
Brayden: You want to come?
Well…that’s new. I’m not dressed to go out. I did my hair and makeup, but I’ve been watching the game in lounge pants andsneakers. I don’t know what Brayden’s like when he’s at the bar, but he’s probably not hanging out with girls in sweatpants.
My phone buzzes again—Brayden rescinding his offer? I glance at the sender, then cover my phone a little more with my hand.
AA: How’s the head?
Me: Still attached
AA: How’s the headache?
