“Yeah?” I lean deeper into my lunge. “What’s that?”
“Something about your NTC. Apparently, you were in Olson’s office all morning.” He rolls out the shoulder of his throwing arm.
“Not sure who leaked that. My agent and publicist will be pissed,” I say dryly. And they will be. Second time I went in there without telling them. “But yeah. I was in there. Those rumours are true.”
“Be a shame, if you went and waived it.” He shrugs.
“Why’s that?” I shift my legs, digging a fist into the palm of my glove.
“You’re the best in the league. Would suck, to replace you. But the obvious aside—” He cocks his head. “Gave my seats away today to someone who’s a really big fan of yours. Needed two tickets for her and a friend. She’d probably be disappointed if you went and disappeared mid-season without so much as a word.”
I dig my elbow into my thigh before walking my feet together to stand. “Don’t think I have that many fans.”
He snorts, clapping my shoulder before he tips his chin towards the stands. “Voters inSports Illustrated’s hottest athlete contests and the girl from the game say otherwise.”
I don’t have to look to know who he’s pointing to. Sun’s brighter over there.
My chest constricts, but not in that life-threatening way it used to when it tried to choke me with the ever-growing absence of Matt. And not even in that way when she was growing—blooming—in there.
In this way that, I think, feels a bit like hope.
“Déjà vu, right?” Joel smiles before he flashes his palms. “Don’t worry, I know her name isn’t girl from the game. Was just trying to get your attention.”
“Uh, yeah—thanks,” I mumble, rubbing a hand absentmindedly over my chest. I glance towards the banner for the first time in months and notice the ends lifting in the breeze, in permission, maybe. Swallowing, I grip my chin and turn back to Joel. “I’ve, uh, liked playing with you. Would be a shame to leave early before we see what happens.”
He nods before he starts jogging backwards towards the pitch, arms wide. “Agreed. Would be a real shame not to see this whole thing play out, too.”
I don’t have to look to know they’ve switched from whatever advertisements they were playing on the screen to me, either.
But I don’t look up there, and I don’t look towards her right away, either.
I look back at what’s left of him here in this stadium.
The bottom of the banner flutters again, and I know what he’d do right now. It’s probably a figment of my imagination, but I feel his hands on my shoulders, and I can hear him pretty clearly. “Never thought I’d see the day. Proud of you.”
The corner of my mouth kicks up, the backs of my eyes burn, and I lift my glove before I jog towards the brightest spot in the entire stadium.
Entire world, probably.
“Hi.” She digs her teeth into her bottom lip, nervous, and raises her palm. She stands, adjusting the hem of her denim shorts, knees I think I’ll spend the rest of my life kissing better knocking together when she does.
“What are you—uh, what are you doing here?” I run a hand along the back of my neck.
“I need to talk to you.” Ren flashes me a watery smile, pointing towards my cleats, digging into the field. “You’re off base.”
I cock my head. “Game hasn’t started yet.”
“I told you that line didn’t make sense.” Imani crosses her arms, slumping down in her seat.
Ren throws Imani a flat look before she wrinkles her nose at me. “Should I start over, then?”
“Nah, you can keep going.” I crack a grin, dropping my forearms down on the infield wall, and my chest cracks open too, for an entirely different reason than it did last night.
She pulls a neatly folded piece of paper from the back of her denim shorts. “I made you this.”
“Oh yeah? What is it?” I lean across the wall, but she jerks it back towards her chest.
She frowns at me, but her eyes shine. “Ren’s List of Things She Wants to Try with Miller.”
