My sentence dies in my open mouth when Alex turns around and her brown eyes collide with mine. She looks different than the last time I saw her, especially with a full face of camera-ready makeup. Actually, with her business attire and minimalist jewelry, there’s no hint of the surfer girl I met five years ago.
I shouldn’t be able to remember the woman in front of me after all this time, but a buddy of mine posted pictures of that night. One of them had been of the two of us smiling at each other. I’d saved the photo to my phone and looked at it withembarrassing frequency that summer. Even after being ghosted, I still glanced at it occasionally.
That night was the one time I didn’t completely blow it by bringing “fire-hose energy” when talking to a woman I’d been interested in. Time seemed to slow the minute she stepped next to me. Instead of that incessant urge to fill every second of silence with words, I waited—mostly because I couldn’t wait to hear what she’d say next.
That’swhy I recognize the narrow slope of her nose, her high cheekbones…her distractingly full lips.
I clear my throat. “Hey. Um, it’s good to see you.”
“I’m Alex Stevens,” she says, crossing to the table to pick up a microphone. “I’ll be interviewing you today. Are you ready?”
“Uh, yeah.” Why does my tongue feel like sandpaper?
“Great.”
Her impassive, professional tone should grate at my pride, but bewilderment has me in a stranglehold. Her name is Alex? All this time, I’d been calling her Rory in my head because it felt weird to refer to her as ‘surfer girl’ or ‘the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.’
When Alex comes to stand next to me, angling her body toward mine, I catch a whiff of eucalyptus that transports me back to that night. I can almost feel the thrumming bassline of the music in my chest, taste the crisp sweetness of the Sprite on my tongue.
“How does it feel to be back?”
I blink, convinced that my brain is malfunctioning. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong. Maybe this woman is simply Rory’s doppelganger.
“Really good,” I tell her, giving myself a mental high five that I don’t sound too winded.
“What’s your mindset coming into camp?”
Though the lay public calls this spring training, everyone in baseball just calls it ‘camp.’
“Um…”
I’ve never been this inarticulate in an interview. Usually, I’m cracking jokes and giving reporters more than they hoped for while not getting myself—or the team—into trouble. That’s why I’m hounded at the end of each game. I’m not going to lie and pretend I don’t love the attention, but more than anything, I just love talking about baseball.
“I, uh…” I scratch my eyebrow, trying to focus. “Build off last year. Clean up the little things. Be ready, stay ready.”
I sound like a robotic numbskull, but my mind is too busy looking for a clue.
She nods. “What areas do you feel need the most attention to make that happen?”
I’m about to dive into an answer about fundamentals and timing at the plate when I remember the wave tattoo. Faking a cough, I bend slightly to sneak a glance. Since Alex isn’t wearing socks, the ink behind her right ankle bone is on display. The fine lines are slightly blurry with age, but they’re stillvery much there.
My hand unconsciously comes up to clutch my tennis necklace as I snap to standing.
After all these years, Rory—no, Alex—is right in front of me.
And the person who gave methe best kissof my life has no idea who I am.
Chapter 3
Alex
Annoying, distracting thoughts keep tumbling through my mind as I struggle to remain professional. For example, the drop of disappointment sitting low in my stomach that Tenny’s mullet is gone is absolutely absurd. It’s not like I didn’t know that he keeps his hair in a more traditional cut now—though it’s still playful over the top. Equally obnoxious is the relief that his stubble remains unchanged, that his eyes are still the same shade of brilliant blue.
Not that I should be focusing onany of that.
Tenny releases his necklace, flexing his hand as he lowers it to his side. My gaze remains on the stones, slightly distracted. Ultramarine sapphires have always been my favorite because their blue is as deep as the ocean.
“Uh, fundamentals.”
