The music slowly fades out, leaving only the soft chatter and buzz from the crowd.
I dig my cleats into the dirt, tap the plate twice, and nod to the pitcher.
I’m ready.
Grayson sends a fastball barreling toward me. I swing... and miss.
Strike One.
The crowd groans in unison, and I bite back the curse that so desperately wants to break free.
This is a family show. Keep it cleanI remind myself as I instead focus on what’s coming up next.
With another roll of my shoulders I tighten the grip on the bat.
The next pitch is thrown. Another fastball right down the middle.
And I swing with everything I have. The loud crack of the bat spills through the air. I hold my breath, and for half a second everything seems to freeze except the ball as it soars up, up, and continues to climb until it clears the fence.
The stadium erupts, and I toss the bat and take off on my victory lap around the bases. My heart is pounding as adrenaline surges through me. And because I can’t help myself, I throw in a quick cowboy two-step and spin as I head toward second.
My attention is diverted as I round the base toward third and spot Hollis. Instead of celebrating with my team who is going crazy along the third-base line, her arms are folded, trying to look unimpressed—but that small, barely there smile gives her away.
I up the ante. Reaching third, I fold my arms, shimmy my shoulders from side to side, then point out toward the stands, before lowering my finger until it’s pointed directly at her. Then,for good measure I wink, because why the hell not? I deserve this.
Her lips twitch, and it's obvious she’s doing everything she can to fight off a laugh.
I could live in this moment forever, but as my team joins me from along the sideline, we finish the run together toward home plate. The second my foot stomps on the base, I’m surrounded and hoisted into the air.
Hitting a home run will never not feel amazing, but this particular high is new as they carry me toward the dugout.
I’m congratulated by pretty much everyone on the team, along with our coaches and staff. The best being Easten and Mateo, as they try to convince me they’d believed in me the entire time.
Despite all the extra attention, my gaze keeps finding Hollis, who seems to be going out of her way to keep some distance between us. Not that I believe that’s actually what she wants. Pretty much every time I steal a glance in her direction, she's looking too.
The frenzy eventually dies down, and Mateo finally takes his turn at bat, giving me a much needed moment to recover as a bottle of water is shoved in my hand.
I should be heading back into the dugout, but I’m a man on a mission. I swerve toward Hollis, who thankfully seems to be over this wholekeeping her distancething as she meets me halfway.
“You ready for our date?” I ask.
“I suppose I have to be,” she shrugs, her arms securely crossed.
“Whoa there!" I hold up my hand. “Try not to sound too excited.”
“And who says I’m not?"
I raise a slow, dramatic brow. “Well, for starters, this.” I motion toward her defensive posture. “Plus, enthusiasm hasnever really been your thing when it comes to well, anything involving me. Or us, or particularly us together.”
“Well, given what I saw out there tonight, it seems like miracles are in fact possible.”
“In that case, how about tomorrow?”
Her head snaps back. “So soon?”
I won this date fair and square, and I’m not about to let her get in her head and change her mind. So the way I see it, the sooner this happens the better.
“Why not? I’ve been waiting for this moment for quite some time. If anything, tomorrow still feels like an eternity away.”
