“Real classy, guys!” Colby shouts, cupping her hands to make sure her voice carries.
“Why is it always the preppy kids who can’t stand losing?” I say when I turn back to her.
“Because they don’t get why daddy couldn’t buy the win for them,” she teases.
Colby led the softball team to an undefeated season, and she hit the game-winning home run that knocked the Allen Hills softball team out of the playoffs a few weeks back. She and I have always had a grudge against their teams, and for no good reason, really. We decided somewhere along the way that the rich kids would be the bad guys. It’s probably something we picked up from a teen movie in our youth. Regardless, the good guys won again today.
Iwon.
“I gotta go for pictures and shit, but wait for me. I want to tell you something.” I jog backward, a nervous grin tucked between my teeth as Colby eyes me suspiciously.
“As long as we get dinner after. Go on!” She waves me off and takes a seat in the front of the stands.
This is the day I’m going to kiss this girl. I’m going to kiss her and tell her I’ve been wanting to kiss her for years, and then . . . well, fuck, I don’t know. I guess I hope she kisses me back. But if I don’t put it all out there now, I might not ever get the courage. Time to ride this winning streak.
I dive into my team as they cluster, still celebrating. The state director is protecting the championship trophy off to the side, which is probably for the best. I don’t think this group of guys should be allowed around nice things.
We push and shove, name call and laugh and pose for photos for about half an hour. Coach makes one hell of a speech too, and then he hands me the game ball—which I promptly hand to Zach in an act of grace. I’m buzzing with the strangest feeling. It’s a cocktail of confidence and pure joy, and for the time being, I feel invincible.
I linger on the field, talking with the local reporters who showed up as well as the recruiting rep who came out to watch our game. I’m already locked in for LSU in the fall. I think he just came for the show. Once the only stragglers left hanging around are basically strangers, I make my way back to the seats behind our dugout—to the girl.
And my heart starts pounding outside my body.
“You’re popular today,” Colby says, stepping up from her seat, hands tucked into the front of her hoodie, hair blowing across her face from the breeze. The golden hour sun kisses her lips and traces her profile as if she were sent from heaven.
“They only like me because I caught a ball,” I say, playing it off and doing my best to sound modest.
“I mean, that’s whyIlike you,” she teases.
I laugh and tuck my chin in, the sudden warmth creeping up my neck making my pulse kick into overdrive.
“I figured. I mean, what else is there to like?” I glance up at her. She bites her bottom lip, and my eyes zero in on the soft pink skin held hostage by her sharp incisor.
“I was kidding, Jayden. There’s plenty to like.”
My fingers tangle with hers.
“Yeah?” My head falls to the side a smidge. Her eyes crinkle along with her nose as she breaks our locked gaze for a beat, looking out to the field before coming back to me.
“Yeah. There’s a lot to like. A lot . . .Ilike.” She inhales, and my gaze drops to her chest, waiting for her to exhale. She doesn’t, though. At least, not as long as I look. And when my eyes scan their way back up the curve of her neck, to her chin, then her lips as they part, I know my time has come.
“Colby, I . . .” I move my hand to the side of her face, my thumb stroking the roundness of her cheek. I sweep the strands of hair blowing across her face away with my other hand, then cup her face gently as I step forward the last few inches.
“Jayden,” she says my name, her mouth curving into a bashful smile that forces an equally coy one onto my mouth.
My eyes focus on hers as I draw her my lips closer to hers, and when her lashes flutter, I close my eyes and let my mouth fall against hers. Her lips are so sweet, so soft and plump, and I crave more of her the moment we connect. My hand slides into her hair, caressing the back of her head as I find a way to bring us closer, tilting her chin up to deepen our kiss, and her mouth widens as my tongue meets hers. I suck in her top lip, holding on to it for long, quiet seconds, wishing I didn’t need air to breathe. Breathing is an interruption, and I don’t want this moment to end.
The lights on the field dim just as we break apart, and the scurrying feet of the cleaning staff rustle around us.
“I think they’re trying to get out of here,” she utters, her hands clawing their way up the front of my jersey. She graspsfistfuls of my shirt and shakes her hands against my chest, and I pull her into a hug that feels unlike any hug the two of us have ever shared before.
“You promised dinner. Meet you at Pete’s Fish and Chips?” she says. I snag her hand in mine and kiss the inside of her wrist before letting go. I still have to gather my shit from the locker room before the bus pulls out and leaves me here.
“And prom,” I add as I back away.
Colby nods. It was probably a given that we’d go together anyhow. As friends. But now, maybe—maybe—we go as something else. Something more. Something with a future, and with more kissing. And maybe more than kissing.
I snag my gear bag from the dugout and jog toward the outfield exit that leads to the locker rooms. I pull my phone from the side pocket to read the texts from my mom. She learned how to send images recently, so the first several texts are memes and fireworks, and a lot of hearts. I hate that she had to miss the game because of the hospital’s staff shortage, but Coach made sure our stream was up and running. I call her before I reach the locker room, hoping she’s on a break, or at least not so busy that she can’t pick up. I get her voicemail, though, so I tell her I love her and hope she got a good view of my catch on the video stream. I hope someone got a good shot of it at least. I want to save that clip for posterity. What if I never make a catch like that again?
