“What do you think about this?” I ask, twisting and lifting the notebook directly in front of her.
My best friend pushes up in her chair and takes the book from me. Her eyes move all over the page, and my smile grows less showy and more genuine as I watch her actually give it a real look over. She’d never do anything just to placate me, though. Especially when it comes to this.
“I like it. You should bring the waist out a bit more. The shape is good in the first sketch, but it’s still just a bit too tight in the second.”
“How much?” I snag the book back and erase those specific lines before redrawing them. “Like this?”
“Much better.”
“The top is good, right? I let out the arms a bit and deepened the neckline.”
She reaches up to tighten her ponytail. The thick mass of black hair is curled, and there’s a green ribbon tied around the elastic band holding it up. It matches the Avery jersey she’s wearing and the Rourke jersey I yanked out of a box beneath my bed and threw on earlier. I’ve never worn Beck’s jersey before, but considering how much Wes has been pissing me off these last few days, this was the perfect payback.
“Yeah, I love that. It’s flirty but not too much,” she says, looking out at the field again.
Her leg starts bouncing, and I frown when I follow her line of sight to see my brother currently talking to Finn on the mound. I’ve been so focused on my sketching that I seem to have to missed the Havoc choking. There’s a player on second base giving the two of them oogly eyes while the batter twirls his bat eagerly.
Tucking my notebook between my thigh and the seat, I ask, “What’s up with him today?”
“I don’t know. He’s been shaking off all of Wes’ pitch calls.”
My brows jump. “Oh, I’m sure he’s loving that.”
“We’ll both hear about it later, I’m sure.”
“If anyone can shake Finn out of a funk, it’s my brother. I wouldn’t worry too much.”
She nods subtly and blows a raspberry. “Let’s hope so. Kellan’s planning a party to celebrate a win tonight, and it’ll be way too awkward if they end up losing.”
“Are you going?”
“He guilted me into it earlier. You?”
“And be forced to spend more time with my brother? Not a chance,” I mutter, crossing my arms.
The sun bathes my bare thighs in the jean shorts I paired beneath the oversized jersey. It feels amazing after being stuck inside the last few days.
My brother isn’t to blame for that. Rather, he’s been trying to get me to leave my apartment since the morning after the concert. He seemed to be feeling rather apologetic after learning that he blasted my personal life to all of his friends because he was too intoxicated to know better.
I’m petty, though. Too petty to accept his texted apologies the last few days. If he wants my forgiveness, he’s going to have to do more than that. Like agree to his damn birthday party dinner already so that I can no longer be the messenger between him, Dad, and Mom.
“He’s still being a douche?” Aubrey asks.
“Not entirely. I’m just making him work for my forgiveness a bit.”
That makes her laugh, even as her gaze stays fixed on the field. I reach for my diet pop and take a sip. The duo breaks apart finally, and Wes makes his way back to home plate. Finn tilts his head back and forth a few times before rolling his shoulders back and giving the ump a nod.
Aubrey reaches for my hand at the same time he throws his next pitch. I let her squeeze it as hard as she needs to while watching alongside her, praying for both our sakes that he pulls his shit together.
The stadium always empties insanely fast, considering the tens of thousands of people who come to watch the games.
There are the lingering fans who try to stay a bit later on the off chance they’ll get a random extra viewing of one of the players or just so happen to stumble upon one who’s made thepoor decision to prowl the stadium after a game. They always leave disappointed.
Tonight is no different.
I enter the clubhouse and ignore the two pairs of curious eyes that flick my way for half a second before moving away again. My brother’s orders keep the Havoc players on a pretty short leash when it comes to me. I assume it’s the same with Evie.
My lips purse when I think of her uncle and the last time I saw him. It’s been three days, yet it feels like just yesterday I had him pressing me into the wall with his hands on my body and lips so close I could almost taste them. I’ve thought about that night on several occasions since, to the point that I even debated asking Evie for his number.
