The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,30

you know?”

“Jason told me. They’re friends, I guess. Cole was asking him about you. Jason said he looked scary.”

“Looked scary?” I said with a laugh because it sounded ridiculous. Then again, there were apparently sides to Cole that I hadn’t seen and didn’t know existed, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

“He was asking about you. He was asking about Logan. He was pissed. He and Logan had words. That’s all I know,” she said, sounding completely annoyed, before taking a drink. “Now, show me that text.”

I held up my phone, and she grabbed it before groaning. “This guy has some nerve.”

“Right? That’s exactly what I thought.”

“He’s such an asshole. The biggest game player and mindfuck I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot because, hello, we’re in college, and I’m majoring in psychology.” She sounded more wounded than I felt. “Are you going to respond?”

“No,” I said with finality.

“Good. Silence hurts more than any words ever could.” She gave me a quick hug. “You okay?”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure?” She jutted out her hip and waited.

“Promise.”

“Okay then. Night.”

“Night,” I said as she started walking toward her bedroom. “Wait.” She stopped and turned to face me. “How’s Jason?” I asked.

A huge smile covered her face, and she tried to hide behind her hand. “He’s so nice. And normal. I thought that since he was in a band, he might be more of a jerk than he originally let on, but he’s not at all.”

“I really liked him too. All the guys were super chill,” I said, giving her my approval that she hadn’t asked for and didn’t need.

“Agreed. Get back to work. And don’t forget”—she leveled me with an overly dramatic expression—“silence.”

I laughed. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not responding. I have nothing to say,” I reassured her, but I meant it. There wasn’t anything left to say to Cole that hadn’t been said a hundred times in a hundred different ways.

And I didn’t even feel bad about it. I felt sort of good, empowered even. For once, I was in control. Something I had rarely, if ever, felt when it came to me and Cole.

Get My Head in the Game

Cole

Christina never responded to my text. The one where I’d asked her not to go out with Logan. I basically begged her, my heart aching as I willed myself not to puke up my guts in the parking lot where I’d apparently just missed her. I was more vulnerably honest in that single text message than I’d ever allowed myself to be. I wondered if she realized that. Maybe if she knew just how twisted up I was inside, she wouldn’t have ignored it.

Maybe she wouldn’t have ignored me.

It had been three days. I knew she’d read the message right after I sent it, but she never said a thing. I’d waited over an hour before I finally let myself fall asleep that night, assuming that when I woke up the next morning, there would be a text waiting.

But there wasn’t.

And it fucking killed me. I could text her again. Hell, I’d thought about it a hundred times, but my pride would shut it down every time I got close. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have responded. Or called. Or done any-damn-thing.

But she didn’t, and so I couldn’t either.

It was like she’d opened the door just a little by showing up at the baseball party, and now, I couldn’t stop thinking about her or get her out of my head. Wherever I had her compartmentalized had been blown to hell and back. I was going crazy, trying to stay away from her and not talk to her. Or at least, I felt like I was. And once you tossed my nemesis into the mix, I could barely focus on anything else when all I should be focused on was my game.

After taking infield, I hustled into the locker room to take a piss and lace up my cleats one more time before the game started. Baseball players were superstitious, and apparently, I had some shit with my shoes. There was absolutely no rhyme or reason for it, but every game, you could find me pulling out my laces and tying them back in, nice and tight. Sometimes, I only did it once. Sometimes, I would do it as many as three times. But I always did it.

As I laced them up, I did my best to keep an eye out for Logan LeDouche. If he knew what