that, sir, and just wanted to make you aware the age of consent is actually sevent—”
“Dude, I have tried to be quiet”—Jase laughs—“but this shit is painful. Harrison Reeves the second, he wouldn’t give you the thumbs-up if he had two handfuls of thumbs.”
Harrison nods at Jase. “Fair enough.”
Then he looks back at me. “I’d like to take you out to dinner this evening.”
“We already have plans.”
“We do?” Brisa asks, and I give her a dirty look. “Sorry, T, but this is better entertainment than this ball game.”
“We all were invited to Gabrielle’s party. I decided we should go.”
“The boys, too?” Dad asks.
I nod.
He looks up at Harrison. “Gonna say it again, ask me after you turn eighteen. Do it at my house.”
“After midnight?” Harrison jokes.
Dad looks back at me. “You into this kid?”
I roll my eyes.
He looks back at Harrison. “Make it before dark.”
He nods. “See you on my birthday, Mr. Steel.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Dad gives him a scary-ass smile.
Harrison looks back at me. “See you tonight then.”
“Stupid little shit,” Jase mumbles as Harrison walks away.
I hear Xavier and Zandor laugh, and then the group chat notification goes off.
I hit the app and see that one of them has edited a picture of Harrison on stage, in tights, leaping, and me to the left, holding a whip and a leash.
“Shit’s not fucking funny, Z,” Dad snaps.
“Why do you automatically assume that’s my work?” Zandor laughs.
“Oh, gee, I wonder,” Tris huffs.
When the crowd starts applauding, I look toward the field and notice that, two rows down, Nina and a few other girls are sitting next to Gabrielle and Tobias Easton. Gabrielle is looking back at me, whereas Tobias has his elbows propped on the bench behind him, facing the field.
She mouths, “Thank you.”
I force myself not to roll my eyes or flip her off, and nod instead.
When she looks away, I look at my girls. “You accepted just now?”
“Hell yeah, we did.” Tris grins and looks over her shoulder. “Dad, I’m going to a party.”
“JT and Patrick gonna be there?”
“Truth and Brisa are.” She scowls at him.
Zandor looks a bit uneasy but nods. “I trust you, Tris.”
Tris nods then looks at the field as she whispers, “Men are so stupid.”
I look toward the field again and see Tobias is looking back at me now. He winks.
He. Freaking. Winks.
I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or … turned on.
When the boys take the field, Brisa yells out, “Number 27 on three!”
Amias keeps his head down but smirks.
Three batters, one on base. The next batter hits it toward left field. Amias jumps, and I swear it’s fifty feet in the air, probably more like eight, but he catches the ball —basically midair— then guns it to first.
The pitcher drops to the ground as it flies over his head, and Justice does a fucking split to tag first base.
Double play.
We’re all on our feet, screaming and cheering, and Zandor yelling, “That’s my boy! That’s my boy!” in a crowd that is otherwise glued to their seats, theater clapping.
Next batter hits it directly toward Amias, and again, he catches it.
Three outs, and our team runs in.
Three of our batters have hits, no outs, bases loaded. Justice is up, and Amias is on deck.
“Show ’em what you got, JT!” Dad yells.
Justice looks back at us, holds the bat up, and winks.
The first pitch, he lets go by and is called a strike.
Dad, Zandor, Jase, Xavier, Patrick, and Max are all on their feet, cheering him on.
When he hits the ball, it soars through the air and drops right before it goes over the fence.
I watch Justice mouth, “Fuck,” and then he begins to kick up the dust.
Three runners in, and Justice is feet from home base when the ball comes whizzing in.
“Down! Down! Down!” we all scream, and again, I see him mouth “fuck” as he hits the dirt and slides into home base, taking out the catcher in the process.
The announcer isn’t even as loud as our section, and all eyes are on us.
I can’t help but laugh at some of the parents and their pinched faces as they look at us.
We calm down just in time to see Amias swing on his first pitch, and it’s called a strike.
“That’s okay, A! Wait for yours, bud, wait for yours.” Zandor claps.
The next pitch is thrown, and Amias doesn’t swing.
Another strike.
“That’s okay. You got this. You got this.” Zandor claps.
Justice whistles, and Amias looks back, steps out of the box, and then catches the bat