“I did not. That ball was nowhere near you,” he says from the pitcher's mound.
“I almost died!”
He shakes his head. “Let’s try again and this time, maybe try swinging the bat.”
I glare at him before taking my position. “I swear if you hit me—”
“Trust me, I know better than that. I gave you a baseball bat and I don’t have a death wish.”
I twist the bat in my hands and nod. “True.”
“Are you ready?” he calls.
“Be patient.” I try to mirror the stance of the baseball players I’ve seen and hold the bat over my shoulder. “Okay, I’m ready!”
His arm winds back and when he releases the ball, it shoots through the air.
I dig my feet into the dirt, refusing to jump this time, and swing. I’m thrown forward, spinning from the momentum, and the ball passes me. It clashes against the fence behind me, bouncing off before falling to the ground.
Myles jogs over, laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“You really are that bad,” he says.
I hold the bat up. “Hey.”
He isn’t the least bit threatened by me. He laughs it off. “Let me help you.”
Myles stands in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders, guiding me into place. “Bend your knees more.”
I listen. “Like this?”
He nods. “Now”—he takes my hands and moves them a little farther up on the bat—“try this.”
His warm hands over mine sends goosebumps up my arms and my stomach flutters.
“Like this?” I ask, playfully hitting his shoulder with the bat.
He laughs. “You’re starting to get it.” Then he jogs back to the pitcher’s mound. “Here we go.”
His leg lifts as he pulls his arm back, and less than a second later the ball is coming toward me. It seems fast, but I know he’s going easy on me. This time I swing and the ball hits the bat, sending it back Myles’s direction. I shriek, dropping the bat. “I hit it!”
I start running.
Myles runs out into the field to grab the ball. When he finds it, he starts sprinting back to me as I pass second base.
I’m running fast. Or at least I thought I was, but in a blink of an eye he’s right behind me, the ball is in his glove, and he taps my shoulder with it. “Out.”
I skid to a stop, panting as I rest on my knees. “I was so close.”
“I think we need to practice some more.”
“I don’t know.” I lie down on the ground. “I think we should take five.”
He stands over me. “Already tired?”
I try to block the sun with my hand as I look up at him. “I’m just trying to be one with the field.”
