The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,33
so much as flinching. He was going to give it to me again. And I counted on it.
He did. Another fast ball right down the middle, and I swung perfectly, the bat connecting with the ball with a TING so loud and so smooth that I knew instantly that it was a no-doubter. Dropping the bat to the ground, I started running to first as I watched to make sure the ball cleared the fences in left field. Once it did, I slowed my pace and jogged around the bases toward my waiting teammates, the cheering stands filling my ears.
When my foot slapped down on home plate, I took my helmet off and pointed it in Christina’s direction, holding it in the air. I saw her jaw drop slightly, and I grinned before high-fiving and tapping helmets with my teammates, a newfound motivation growing inside me.
I’d told her that I needed her gone in order to focus, but I couldn’t focus for shit after she left.
I’d thought I’d be fine without her, but I hadn’t been fine since the day I forced her to go.
I’d believed that I was doing the right thing, but being without her was wrong.
I’d been such an idiot. How had I never put it together before now?
Christina had always been there, by my side, since day one, and I had never struggled at the plate. She wasn’t bad for me or distracting me from my goals. She was the exact opposite. And as soon as the game was over, I was going to find her and tell her.
Am I in the Twilight Zone?
Christina
“Uh,” Lauren stuttered, her shock as apparent as mine, “did he just point his hat thing at you?”
“It’s a helmet. How many times do I have to tell you, it’s a helmet?” I asked, knowing that no matter how often I tried to explain baseball to Lauren, she would never truly get it. I honestly didn’t care. I was just happy she’d agreed to come with me.
I’d had no intentions of coming to this game until Logan texted that he had left me two tickets. It felt rude to not show, but if Lauren hadn’t said she’d come with me, I would have stayed home, manners be damned.
“Okay, fine. His helmet,” she enunciated dramatically. “He pointed it at you. I mean”—she looked around us—“who else would he have pointed it at?”
I shrugged my shoulders because the last thing I wanted to do was assume that Cole had meant that little gesture for me. It could have been for anyone. Maybe his dad was here? Or some other family member? Or some girl he’d screwed last night? I had no idea. But I did know that there was no mistaking the look he had given me when he was on deck earlier.
Maybe the helmet gesture was meant for me. But if it was, then why? We weren’t even on speaking terms.
“He was definitely pointing it at you,” a girl chimed in from behind us, her tone not at all happy or pleasant.
I angled my head to look at her.
“Although none of us can figure out why.” She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Oh, Jesus, really? Let us know when you wrap your tiny brain around the answer, okay?” Lauren said, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Hair-Flipper leaned between us and whispered, “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”
“You’re one to talk,” I said, defending whichever one of us she was trying to offend.
“Cole can’t commit to you, but he can’t let you go either. Ever wonder why that is, Christina?” she said my name like it disgusted her.
“No,” I lied with conviction, “but you sure seem to.” I stopped paying attention to the game as I concentrated on the girls behind me. I had no idea who they were, but they all knew me. I wished that I could say I was surprised, but I wasn’t.
“We do have a theory.” Hair-Flipper leaned back in her stadium seat, and I turned my body to face her and her group of clones.
They literally all looked exactly the same with blonde hair extensions, fake eyelashes, and filled lips. I felt like I was staring at a group of social media influencers who should be posing up against the pink wall in LA for likes and mentions, not sitting in the stands of a baseball game. And even though I was passionate about social media, this was one facet of it that I didn’t enjoy