The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,12

memory.

Once we got there, he took the space next to me, not too close, of course. Not like he’d been the one to give me the most amazing kiss of my life. At least as far as he knew.

“So,” I began, taking out my notepad and pen, trying to pretend like this was just another interview, nothing special, no reason to be embarrassed. “How long have you played baseball, Archer?”

I watched as one corner of his mouth twitched.

“Since I could walk,” he said, leaning back. “Never really wanted to do anything else.”

“Have you always played with your brothers?” I asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. Mom and Dad loved the game and passed that love down to us. Baseball has always been a big part of our family.”

“So everyone in your family plays?”

“Well, not my little sister,” he said. “She’s always been a bit of a rebel, but all five of us boys play.”

“Five,” I repeated. “You have another brother who’s not on the team then?”

“Oh yeah, Finn, my youngest brother. He’s seventeen, still in high school.” Archer nodded. “He’s not as into baseball as the rest of us, more of an academic type, but he throws a mean curveball.”

“Speaking of which,” I said, “did you know this is the first time the University’s had four brothers playing on the same team? That’s a lot of O’Briens.”

“Yeah,” he said, “there are quite a few of us. It can be hard to keep track sometimes.”

My brow furrowed, wondering if he meant something by it, but he went on.

“Luckily, we’re all so different, and our personalities kind of match our positions.”

I leaned in, forgetting to take notes. “Oh, how do you mean?”

“Take Dex,” he said, and I looked to where he was gesturing. “He’s up to bat right now. Kind of a hothead, but that works if you need someone who’ll go up to bat and isn’t afraid to swing, even at a nearly unhittable pitch.”

I watched as the pitcher threw, and the batter, Dex, got a piece of it, landing it right in center field.

“That was a line drive.” Archer pointed to the pitcher now. “And Chase is almost always perfect. He’s was born for this, one of the main reasons we’re in contention for a national championship. If you wait for him to mess up, you’ll be waiting a long time.”

Another batter stepped up to the plate, and I watched as Chase pitched him three strikes, one after the other. It was the same story with the next batter. The last one just stood there dumbfounded.

“Up and down,” he said. “My brother is a beast on the pitcher’s mound. Which brings me to his other half.”

I knew there was only one name left I hadn’t heard and waited to see what position he played.

“Baylor isn’t like the other two,” he continued. “He’s a little…unpredictable. Some would even say wild.”

When the next batter came up to the plate, he did this odd little dance, where he hit one shoe then the other with the end of his bat, swung it around once and then pointed to the outfield. There were groans from his teammates. He was the one who’d done the keg stand, I thought.

“Let’s go, Chase,” Baylor said from the batter’s box as he finally assumed his stance. “I’m not getting any younger over here.”

“Cocky, too,” Archer added.

The pitcher, Chase, just shook his head at his brother’s antics. Took his time, readying the pitch, and fired it off. The sound as the ball collided with the catcher’s mitt was loud.

“Strike!” the Grouch said.

“Oh, come on, Bear,” Baylor said. “It was high. Anyone could see that was a ball.”

“It was a strike,” Archer called out. “Stop being such a baby, Bay, and get ready for the next one.”

Baylor, for his part, just shot his brother the bird, muttering under his breath as he got back into position.

“Maybe if you hadn’t spent all night partying,” Chase called, “you’d be able to get a hit off me.”

“Oh, I’ll get a hit,” Baylor said. “Just need you to throw me a clean pitch.”

“Stop playing around and bring me in already,” Dex shouted from first.

The pitcher shook his head, and as I looked on, he threw a strike right down the middle. The third pitch was fouled out to right field. Each time, Baylor seemed to settle in a bit deeper, leaning in a little more, looking more determined.

“And this is where things get interesting,” Archer said to me.

“Really why?” I said.

“Because Baylor hates to lose. And besides