─── • ───

than expected, but I wasn't complaining. Not only had I made great progress on my project, but I also successfully avoided Elijah all week. I'd discovered if I went to the studio in the early afternoon he would be at practice, which I could watch from the window.

I had the perfect view. Throw, swing, hit, run. That was their pattern.

As I mixed paint, I waited for the team to emerge from the dugout, but they never did. Maybe they didn't have practice today? I swore they always had practice in the afternoon. Either way, I didn't care because that was one less distraction, and today was not the day to be distracted. I had to get home in time to help Reva prepare for her date tonight.

It took a lot of contemplating, but she finally agreed to go and I'm beyond happy. I understand how hard getting out of your head can be, however, I think the combo of Taki's, wine, and ice cream did the trick.

With my fine brush, I dotted highlights along the white parts of the eye, swaying slightly to my music. I leaned closer than backward to inspect my work when someone tapped my shoulder.

I turned to find Mr. Tight-Pants standing behind me.

"You've been avoiding me." Elijah stared down, deadpan.

"What the fu—" I didn't throw any paintbrushes this time, but a squeak came out of me like someone had stepped on a dog toy. Ripping my headphones from my ears, I studied him. He wore his baseball jersey, the number twenty-one plastered on the front and back. It hugged him in all the right places, those biceps—

"Aren't you supposed to be out there?" I asked.

He yanked a stool from a neighboring easel like it was weightless and sat beside me. I refrained from looking at his legs that straddled the seat; instead, I stared at the woman on my canvas.

"We don't practice on game days. Anyway, you stopped coming," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I see you up here during our practices." The hairs on my arms stood, and I must've made a face because he added, "You didn't know I could see you painting from on the field?"

On the outside, I was emotionless, but on the inside, I was ablaze.

"I didn't know you were looking."

He stayed silent, which ultimately caused me to peer over to find his gaze fixated on me and his hands gripping his thighs, the veins in his hands emerged. I tried looking away, but it took me a minute to collect my thoughts. Those eyes, his sweet smell, that tiny dimple that appears next to his right upper lip... A tension I hadn't noticed before sizzled between us, and I fought the feeling by turning around and picking up my brush.

Thankfully, he dropped the conversation and walked to the wall he's almost done painting. "Did you ever text Jayce?"

I scrunched my nose at the thought. "Jayce?" After our grocery store run-in, all I got was radio silence. I knew Jayce had my number because he texted 'hello' with an early 2000s semicolon winky face to himself.

"He's..."

"Loud? Doesn't have boundaries?" I finished his sentence.

Elijah's cackles filled the room. The sound made my heart thump wildly. "I was going to say he's a man-whore, but that works, too. Seriously, don't feel obligated to text him." He emphasized the last sentence.

Was that jealousy I heard? If I was facing him, I'd study his expression, but I wasn't which led my imagination to run wild. Something about Elijah being jealous over Jayce giving me his number tickled me pink. Even though I wanted nothing to do with him, I shrugged and said, "I don't know, it could be fun."

A beat passed. "If you want to be invited to baseball parties, I can get you in."

"Hmmm," I hummed, humor ebbing from me. "Those parties are pretty exclusive."

"Not if you come with me."

My back straightened, and the world tilted as I cocked my head to stare at my painting, but I couldn't focus. All I could picture was walking into a baseball party with Elijah. I quickly erased the image from my head because we aren't a thing. He's stuck working with me because he was assigned to. He has no obligation to invite me to a party.

"Thanks for the offer."

He cleared his throat. "So, how is your roommate?"

"She's much better."

"Ice cream fixes everything."

"Not a broken window," I mocked.

He stared with a stony expression. "No, not a broken window, Sadie. Which is coming along great." His sarcasm was clear.

We both looked at the window that was still covered by a tarp and very broken. I'm not sure if the school lacked the funds to fix it or simply didn't care that there was a gaping hole in the art building. With the money the sports teams earned and the cost of our tuition, the latter reason seemed more accurate.

"You know, I am still really sorry about your painting."

"It's cool." I cast a half-smile, so did he, then we turned to continue working.

Talking like civilized humans felt strange, though his ability to keep up with my banter made it all the better. He could dish it out just as well as I could give it. It seemed avoiding him was impossible since I ran into him everywhere: the beach, class, the studio, and the grocery store, for Pete's sake.

"So, you have a game tonight?"

"Yeah, it's away."

"What position do you play?" I asked, even though I already knew. Shortstop.

"Shortstop mostly, sometimes centerfield."

I heard a faint thud, followed by rustling, and I turned to find Elijah taking off his jersey. What the hell? My mouth went dry, his undershirt lifted, and suddenly I had the perfect view of his chest. My eyes trailed lower, following the ridges of his muscles to the V centered between his hips, which disappeared into his shorts.

Holy shit.

I looked away before he noticed me staring, but couldn't bring myself to paint. My phone vibrated, and I glanced at the email notification. Trumbullen Gallery Job. Elation coursed through me as I opened it:

Miss Garner,

We're sorry to inform you the position we prematurely offered is unavailable. If any spots open in the near future, we will not hesitate to contact you, as we believe you are a wonderful asset and student in Trembullen's art community.

Signed by the Director of The Art Program.

My shoulders sagged as I read the rejection letter I hadn't expected to receive.

I should've known the offer was too good to be true and the week of radio silence after Melissa's offer was indicative that I wasn't getting the position. The image of Ruby's Tavern flickered in my mind and I muttered a quick thank you to the universe that I hadn't put in my two weeks.

"Don't quit your job unless you have another one waiting for you," my mother always told Leila and me.

A sharp pain shot through my mouth and I realized I was gnawing on my cheek and unclenched my jaw. I liked Ruby's, but this gallery job would've helped prepare me for my future career. Unlike my sister Leila, who had clinical experience before working in a hospital, it took an extensive effort to find an art-related job that would accept me. I needed to find an internship opportunity before I graduated.

"Everything okay?" Elijah asked, and I finally pried my eyes away from the email.

I was surprised he asked. This time, his tee-shirt rested in the correct position on his torso, and smeared across his face was a streak of white paint. Even though disappointment hung over me like a storm cloud, I smiled at the mess.

Instinctually, I took a wet paper towel from the sink and found myself standing in front of Elijah.

"You've got paint on your face." I motioned to his cheek and reached up with the towel, not touching him yet. The material hung loosely between my paint-covered fingers and all I could focus on was the sound of our breathing.

He inched closer, wordlessly giving me his approval to touch him.

"I'm fine," I finally said, wiping the paint away.

"Has anyone ever mentioned you're a terrible liar?"

"Yes, my parents. This one time when I was little, I stole my older sister's nail polish kit and accidentally spilled it all over her carpet. I tried telling my parents it was the cat who knocked it off of the dresser, but the mess was... everywhere. The cat would've had to grow hands to recreate that mess. I was forced to scrub the floor but that shit wouldn't budge. Poor Leila's room was strong enough to get you high off nail polish fumes." My voice trailed when I realized I was rambling.

His laugh rumbled through the room and I felt it on my fingertips. "If it makes you feel any better, I would've believed you if you said it was the cat.

I snorted.

"But seriously, whatever's upsetting you, come forget about it tonight. There is a party after our game."

A blush scorched my cheeks, and I quickly turned on my heel, tossing the towel into the trash, hating how giddy his invite made me feel. As he waited for my reply, I checked my phone to find it was nearly time to go and began cleaning.

"I've got to get going. I promised my roommate I'd help her get ready for a date."

"Ahh, I should head out too."

Part of me wanted to accept his offer, but I promised Lucy and Iya a girl's night. However, I know how they act, and if they found out I was invited to a baseball party and didn't go, they'd scold me to no end. But I would not ditch them when I already had plans, I figured I'd keep my mouth shut.

My bag weighed on my shoulder like I was training for the military, except I did not fill it with weights, I filled it with textbooks and art supplies. I stood in the doorway, looking back at Elijah, who wasn't finished cleaning. My mouth opened, closed, then reopened, but nothing came out.

"See you," I finally shouted.

He stopped what he was doing. "Aren't you going to wish me good luck?" he teased.

"No," I said. "You don't need it."

His face lit up with that stupid grin.

arrived with a box of pizza and a large bottle of Vodka (I supplied the 7UP) and we all sat on the floor of Reva's room while she got ready. Her bed was no longer sleep-able. Clothes piled on her sheets and lone shoes littered the floor without their pair. The mess mirrored her mood.

I sank my teeth into a piece of pizza, flinching when the cheese scorched the roof of my mouth. Watching Reva fumble with her lip gloss tube, followed by the strap of her heel, was like watching a newborn deer walk for the first time. I was certainly concerned, so were Lucy and Iya.

"You good, babe?" I asked between bites.

"Yep! I'm fine, perfectly fine."

Lucy, Iya, and I glanced at each other wide-eyed, knowing she was lying. It wasn't until she took my Vodka-7UP from my hand and chugged that I knew something was wrong. "Hey, hey," I cooed, touching her arm. "Wanna take a deep breath with me?"

She plopped down on her fluffy white rug and burped from the carbonation. I took her silence as a yes and then counted. All four of us joined in and after three deep breaths, Reva opened her beet-red eyes. "I'm sorry." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know why I'm crying."

Lucy immediately jumped up to grab a tissue.

"It happens, let it out," I said, pulling her into my side.

I wasn't sure where this surge of emotions was coming from, but like me, Reva's emotional outlet was crying. She cried when she was happy; she cried when she was angry, and she cried when she was anxious. I'm assuming these were anxious tears, and I didn't blame her. Dating was nerve-wracking and Reva was a nester, flings weren't her thing. Having her let loose for a date was like trying to untie an unyielding knot. It didn't budge.

"Don't worry, we can fix your make-up lickety-split," Lucy knelt and blotted Reva's under-eye.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Iya asked.

"I'm having a moment. I'll be fine."

"If you don't want to go, please tell us and we can vouch for you."

She released a long sigh through pursed lips. "Thank you, guys. I want to go. I'm just scared, I guess? I haven't been on an actual date in a while... and small-talking with someone at a beach bonfire is much more appealing than sitting at a dinner table and asking philosophical questions about life."

Lucy howled. "Ask me a philosophical question about life on the first date and I'll tap out."

We all laughed.

"Just be yourself. You're a smart, kind, beautiful self, and you'll be just fine." I squeezed her shoulder.

We gave Reva space by moving to the living room with our pizza and letting her regroup in private. When she felt calm, she rejoined us to say goodbye because her date was out front, waiting. I reminded her if she needed anything to call, and we'd be there to save the day, so I slowed down my drinking in case I needed to drive.

She shouted a slew of I love you's and then it was three.

"You think she'll be okay?" Iya asked.

I nod. "Yeah, I do. I think Logan caused a lot of damage, and it's going to take time for her to get comfortable dating again."

"Fuck Logan and his stupid fucking face," Lucy seethed, and we hollered Amen. I took their glasses into the kitchen to refill and got myself a plain 7UP and when I returned, Lucy had the TV on the Trumbullen game. They thanked me as I handed them their glasses, unable to peel my eyes from the screen.

"Look, they're winning."

"Five to two in the sixth inning? They are going to crush The Panthers."

My belly rippled with nerves when I spotted Elijah in a semi-crouched stance, with his left foot slightly behind him. His hands hung between his legs and he clapped into his glove while the other team readied their bat.

Elijah was extremely talented. He could handle playing shortstop and he was a phenomenal batter. Though I assumed he could dominate any position he was placed in.

"There's your man," Iya pointed to his jersey jokingly.

I hadn't told them about our studio conversation today and how he invited me out. I definitely would not tell them now that Reva was a phone call away from needing to be picked up. Yet, thinking of how fun a baseball party would be after winning a game made me regret not accepting his offer.

They swung, the ball flew across the infield and the batter dashed to first base. Jayce caught the ball and threw it at Elijah, who chucked it toward Aiden on first. The refs called the batter out. "Look at those phenomenal defensive plays from Preston and Larson! 4-6-3 on a double play, two down in the sixth inning."

Before I realized what I was doing, I stood and clapped at the TV like a father watching football on Thanksgiving. Lucy and Iya stared at me with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

I shrugged. "What? It was a good play."

Lucy made a tsk-tsk sound, and Iya smiled.

We watched the rest of the game, cheering when the boys got a player out or made it safely to a base. Most of the time, I didn't care about sports, especially college games. But watching the guys made me feel proud. Maybe it was because I knew them... Well, was acquainted.

When it was over and the boys all jumped with joy because they won, I changed the channel.

"Shit, they're killing it and it's only their second game of the season."

"If they keep this up, they'll end up in the college world series."

"When does the draft start?"

I sipped my drink. "This July."

We already knew which seniors were getting drafted, but from what I've heard, Trumbullen's junior baseball players were already being talked about. They have to complete their junior year to be fully eligible for the draft, but that didn't stop their names from flying out of MLB coaches' mouths. This was their time to shine and boy, were they already shining.

"Have you talked to Elijah lately?" Lucy asked.

The mention of his name made the hairs on my neck rise. "Yeah, he was at the studio today."

"Did you guys talk?"

"A little, but I was focused on my project."

"Mmhm," Lucy teased. "By a little do you mean you gave him a lil' something in the art closet?"

I chuckled loudly and chucked a throw pillow at her, that must be why they call them that. "I did not give him a lil' something in the closet. Instead, I got a fun email about how the art department took back their job offer."

Both of their humored expressions fell, and I suddenly regretted killing the mood. Ever since I got the email, I shoved the thoughts deep down. But they've been creeping up throughout the evening and if I don't get it off my chest, I might end up crying when I go to sleep.

"What? They revoked their offer?" Iya sounded dumbfounded.

"They said they shouldn't have prematurely offered me the position when they didn't have one to give." I had to laugh at how stupid that sounded and to cover the sound of my heart shattering all over again.

"I swear there is something wrong with the faculty here because you know that play I was supposed to be in? Canceled," Iya said.

I gasped. "The one where you get murdered?"

"Yep, I don't know what happened but they haven't given us an alternative project yet so we're in the dark."

My phone buzzed and my heart skipped a beat, thinking it was Reva calling for help, but Jayce's name appeared. I blinked, stunned. What the hell was he doing calling me? Seeing his name made my stomach flutter.

"Is that Reva?"

"Um, thankfully, no but..." I held up my phone for them to see and they both audibly gasped.

"Jayce? As in Jayce Lawson, who we just watched on the TV?"

I nodded.

"Well, answer it! What are you waiting for?" Lucy shouted, and they scooted closer. I answered, putting him on speaker and waited for him to speak first. Shouting ensued, and it sounded like they were at a party, but a strange hum flooded the background which told me they were probably on the bus back to campus.

"No? Why would you call her? Hang up! Jayce..." The words came straggling through the phone, and I couldn't tell who was talking. It all sounded like jumbled testosterone. I glanced toward the girls and found them chuckling as we waited for someone to speak. Did he accidentally butt-dial me?

"Sadie?" Jayce's voice came over the speaker.

"Hi, yes?"

"This is Jayce from the grocery store!"

I snorted. "I know. Do you need something?"

"You're killing m—mph!"

"Heard you were interested in coming to a baseball party? There is one tonight. Want us to swing by and pick you up?"