The inning ends, and Reece jogs to the dugout with his team. I watch him disappear from view, and thirty seconds later, my phone buzzes.
Reece:Told you I’d pitch better.
Me:Show-off.
Reece:Your show-off.
I read the message three times, and the warmth spreading through my chest feels dangerously close to something I promised myself I wouldn’t feel.
When he takes the mound again in the seventh, he strikes out the first batter on three pitches. The crowd roars, chanting his name.
But before he winds up for the next pitch, his eyes flick back to my section, and his smile is just for me.
The other shoe is going to drop eventually.
And I’m starting to think I might not care.
Chapter Nine
Reece
Three weeks into this thing with Ava, three weeks of dating, or not dating if she has anything to say about it, and tonight she’s coming to my apartment for the first time. It has never looked cleaner.
I’ve wiped down the counters twice, fluffed pillows I didn’t know could be fluffed, and checked the refrigerator four times to make sure I have the oat milk she likes. Mack would never let me live this down if he could see me now, stress-cleaning before a girl comes over.
Except Ava isn’t any girl. She’s the reason I’ve been pitching career-best numbers, I smile at my phone during team meetings, and why I’m currently debating whether my apartment smells too much like the candle my mom sent me for Christmas.
My phone buzzes with a call.
“I’m downstairs. This better not be a trap.”
I grin, heading for the intercom. “It’s not a trap. It’s dinner.”
“You said you’d cook.”
“I can cook.”
“Athletes always say they can cook. Then it’s burned steak and undercooked pasta.”
“Ye of little faith.”
I buzz her in and prop my apartment door open, waiting by the elevator. Whatever smart remark I had prepared dies completely when the doors slide open.
Ava steps out, wearing a baseball cap pulled low and sunglasses, despite it being seven at night, and we’re indoors. She’s got her hands shoved in the pockets of an oversized hoodie, looking for all the world like she’s about to rob me.
“Subtle,” I say, fighting back a laugh.
“I’m incognito.” She pushes past me into the apartment.
“You look suspicious.”
“Same thing.” She pulls off the sunglasses, glancing around. “Nice place. Very… clean.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’ve seen locker rooms. My expectations were low.” She wanders toward the kitchen, running a finger along the counter. “But this is almost impressive. Did you hire someone?”
“I cleaned it myself, thank you very much.”
