Walking back in the locker room, a few of the players are still psyching themselves up, while others have already made their way to the dugout.
I pull up Jensen’s message thread one more time. Scrolling back, I see the many texts from myself and the occasional response from her. I should probably take the hint, but then I pull up the picture of her sign again. Is that…a heart for the exclamation point?
Well, that’s interesting.
“Hey.” Tripp comes up behind me with a shake to my shoulders. “You ready for this?”
I toss my phone in my bag without responding. “When am I ever not ready for a game?”
“You have got to be one of the weirdest people I know. Do you ever get stressed?”
“Fuck off, of course I do.” I shove him as I turn around to walk out to the dugout. “Just not about this. Hey, a hundred bucks says I can hit a home run this game.”
Tripp lets out atsk.“You should be studied.”
“Can’t say I disagree with ya.”
And eight innings later, I may not be a hundred dollars richer, but I’m still on fire. I’ve had beautiful line drive after beautiful line drive. Best believe I’ve started dedicating every one to Dex.
I’m pretty sure he gets a wave of regret for this bet—and our friendship—each time.
By the bottom of the ninth, I’ve all but considered our win locked down. We’re up 4–2, and even though the Rays bat last, I’m pretty sure they’ve already accepted their defeat with their first batter striking out.
The second out is a pop-up caught in outfield. The only thing standing between us now and our World Series win is one more out, and I’m going to be the one to get it.
My eyes find Dex in the dugout, and the fucker already knows.
A ground ball is hit, but that’s fine, nothing we can’t handle. Our shortstop, Mateo, scoops it up with ease then sends it my way.
My favorite sound of the ball connecting with my glove comes, followed by the ump yelling “out.”
That’s game.
Now this is a fucking high. From the fireworks shooting off, the confetti falling, and countless beers being sprayed, we’re all on cloud nine.
I let Dex have his time with Lucie and Miles on the field, but he can’t escape me in the locker room.
“What’d I tell you, asshole?” I shake his shoulders as I come up behind him.
Dex turns around with a small shove and a chuckle. “Can’t say I doubted you, but ya know, you could not be so cocky about it.”
“Everyone says cocky, I say confident—and fucking right, mind you. I want a copy of your signed contract framed on my wall.”
“You and Luce both.” Dex shakes his head, then makes his way over to his duffle. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He searches through it for a minute before pulling something out. “Now, don’t fucking saying anything.”
I cross my finger over my chest then hold my hands up. “Okay, Dad, chill.”
Dex rolls his eyes, but then holds out the ring box. “Gonna ask Lucie to marry me when we get back to Boston. Figured since you were rooting for us the most?—”
You know, I didn’t think tonight could have gotten better, but I stand corrected.
“Fuck, man, I’m so happy for you. You deserve another shot at playing, with someone in the crowd actually cheering for you. I mean, I always cheer for you, but you know I’m not the pretty blond.”
Dex gives me a small punch before putting the ring back. “I do prefer Lucie’s cheers to yours, but I appreciate you. Thanks for always being there.”
“God, Lucie’s turned you sappy,” I joke but recover quick before he hits me again. “I appreciate you too. And really, so happy for you and Luce. You guys gonna come out with us to bar hop our winning?”
“Nah, Luce said she isn’t feeling too great so we’re just gonna go back to the hotel.” Dex pulls his bag on his shoulder and claps my back. “Have fun and don’t call me for bail. You all figure that shit out on your own.”
