The light that streamed through the gaps of the blinds was my alarm clock the next morning. I peeled back one eyelid to find morning sunlight bathing the room in a warm yellow. I couldn't help but squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to get a few more minutes of sleep, but the brightness of the room and the impending thought of the first practice today didn't allow me to drift back. Instead, I laid still staring at the ceiling. I was far less anxious than I was yesterday, but my stomach still churned as I thought about every single thing that could go wrong today. It was probably the least helpful thing I could be doing right now, but those thoughts would not go away. 

I glanced over at Miles, who was still sound asleep like nothing could go wrong. He was sleeping on his side, faced towards me, with one arm under his head and the other wrapped over his torso. His perfectly styled hair from yesterday was now sticking out in multiple directions. I had to admit that in that moment, he looked pretty adorable.

Adorable? Where did that come from? I shook my head of the ridiculous thought and reminded myself of the conceited jerk that was occupying that bed. Pushing myself out of bed, I shuffled across the room to find the items I needed for the bathroom. I opened and closed the door as quietly as I could to not wake up Miles. It was still early and I had no desire to talk to him quite yet. I crossed my fingers that no one was inside the bathroom and luckily no one was. 

I took my time brushing my teeth and putting in my contacts for the day. I washed my face and hoped that the circles under my eyes would fade eventually. After putting on some face lotion with SPF so my face wouldn't burn, I was satisfied. 

My hair was another matter. It looked like a rat's nest of knots and twists. My hairbrush barely got through it the whole way. I drenched the brush in some water before working through the strands again, attempting to smooth the gnarled mess on my head. When it was untangled enough to run my hand through, I pulled all of it into a pony tail on top of my head. 

"There," I said to the mirror.

I looked somewhat presentable, so I called it good for this morning. Heading back to the room, I found Miles still asleep. I let the door slam close but he didn't even flinch at the noise.

"Miles," I called from across the room. No response. I guess he was a heavy sleeper.

We needed to be down at practice in 15 minutes and Miles didn't look like he was going anywhere any time soon. As funny as it would be for him to sleep through the first practice, I had a feeling that everyone would be feeling the repercussion of Miles being late. The little angel and devil on either shoulder bickered back and forth for several seconds while I contemplated what to do. I knew I wasn't that mean to leave him behind and I had no desire to do extra running on Miles' account. I begrudgingly moved towards his bed to wake Sleeping Beauty. 

"Miles," I called again as I got closer. Still nothing. I reached a hand out and poked him in the shoulder, immediately drawing my hand back to safety. He didn't move an inch. "Dude really?" I snapped at his still form. 

My patience was wearing thin and the idea of leaving him was becoming more tantalizing. I decided to give it one more try before I left him to fend for himself. 

Whenever my mom woke me up in the morning, she usually sat down on the edge of the bed and gave my arm a shake. Deciding that it was worth a try, I sat down on the very edge of his bed and shook his arm. His very well toned, muscly arm. Holy crap! His biceps are huge.

Really, Gloria? Really?

Miles shrugged his shoulder, but his eyes stayed shut. Letting my temper get the best of me, I snapped at him. "Get up! We need to go. I don't want to be late the first day."

Miles stirred and curled in to a ball. His chin was set on top of his knees.

"I don't want to get up," he moaned. His forehead crinkled and his nose scrunched. 

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle. I couldn't believe this 17 year old boy was acting like a little kid.

"Why are you laughing?" he said. His eyes still tightly closed. His lip poked out like he was pouting, which only made me laugh harder.

"You're acting like the kids I babysit," I laughed, not being able to help myself and poking him in the forehead where he was scrunching his brow.

"I'm probably cuter than the kids you babysit."

"You're not. You are more annoying though."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"Get up. We have to go."

"We, huh?"

"Shut up. I'll leave you here if you don't get get up," I said standing up.

"No, don't go," he whined grabbing my wrist. He yanked me back to sit on the edge of the bed. His grip stayed firmly clamped on to the thin part of my wrist.

I stared at his hand that was holding my wrist, feeling uncomfortable by the restraint and our proximity. I knew Miles was only teasing, but after being held down yesterday, the feeling of someone's hand on me left me feeling sick. I shook him off and stood up from the edge of the bed, which finally made Miles open his eyes to look at me. 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. We're just going to be late if you don't hurry up," I lied, straightening my shirt and giving him a narrowed look.

"You're a shitty liar," he remarked bluntly. He crossed his arms over his chest making every muscle in his chest tense and flex.

The sight was practically drool worthy and I had to physically turn around to make sure some didn't come out of the corner of my mouth. "And you're working on my last nerve." I pulled out my clothes for this morning's practice. A T-shirt, sliding shorts, long socks, pants, a sports bra and underwear. 

I turned back around to head out the door to change, but a tall tanned body was in my way. I craned my head back to look at my very shirtless roommate who was staring down at me. It was hard yet again not to look at his tanned chest or chiseled arms, but I kept my gaze on his face by pure willpower. His green eyes drilled into mine as if trying to read my thoughts. "I like working on all of your nerves." And with that, he walked out of the room with a wash cloth and tooth brush in hand. 

I brushed off his comment and got to work changing before he got back. When I was done, I put my Nike sneakers on and left. When I got downstairs and outside, I wanted to go right back inside where the air conditioning was. It was going to be a hot one today and the stifling humidity was not helping. I picked at my gray baseball pants that were beginning to feel too hot for today's temperature.

I got in to the dining auditorium and got cereal for breakfast. There were guys already sitting down eating breakfast when I sat down in my usual seat at the back table. Harrison was nowhere to be found, so I ate my breakfast slowly, trying to wait for him. He still hadn't appeared when I finished my bowl and I was beginning to worry. Did his roommate do something to him? Did he forget to set an alarm? I knew I shouldn't baby him too much. I didn't want him to be made fun of for having me acting as his babysitter.

Deciding to just let him do his own thing, I set off to the fields. I walked alone across the parking lot to the vacant fields. Our packet had informed us that we would be practicing on Field Two. I was glad that for the time being I would be alone. I could do some extra stretching and get in the right headspace for our first practice. Our bags had been brought to the field for us yesterday and were lined up on the dugout's fence. I found mine and set to work getting out my cleats to put on. While pulling on each shoe, I took a moment to look around at the well-manicured field and the surrounding area. Big trees were scattered behind the outfield fence and the rest of the campus was sprawled beyond the field. After tying my laces tight, I stood up and walked out of the dugout.

The grass still had a bit of morning dew on it and made the toes of my cleats wet. It would dry up quick enough with the fast approaching high temperatures. I jogged along the fence line once to stretch out my tight leg muscles and get my blood flowing. As I began to move, my head started to clear and the tightness in my chest softened. 

Baseball had always been my happy place over the years. It was my connection to my dad, my way to relax, and a place where I could be myself. There had been many points over the last decade that have been difficult to get through, but baseball has been consistent through it all. Being between the lines was when my anxiety and negative thoughts melted away, so this nervous feeling for practice felt foreign and uncomfortable. 

I stretched my arms over my head and across my chest. Doing arm circles next, I gazed around looking to see if anyone was going to show up soon. I didn't see any people walking down the path toward the field. I was beginning to worry about Harrison. He was only 14 and was already worked up enough about this camp. 

I grabbed the fence with both hands and swung my leg between my body and the fence. Next, I stretched out my hip flexors with some lunges and stretched a leg back to feel a satisfying pull on my hamstring. Switching legs, I finished warming up and went to go get my bat and to check my phone. I clicked the power button to find it to be 9:15 already. No one was out here. 

I went back out on to the field and did some dry cuts. However, my concentration was anywhere but on technique of my swing. My mind was wandering as I considered all the reasons that I was out here by myself with only 15 minutes until practice. Did they decide to practice somewhere else, so I couldn't come? Does Coach know about this or did he think of the idea? Is this some kind of joke?

My head was spinning. Was I just losing my mind and getting worked up over nothing? I've worked so hard to be here and the only thing I've gotten from this experience so far is stress and anxiety. And now, I felt like I was going to be humiliated by a bunch of stuck up guys because they don't want me here. 

Readjusting my headband, I kicked the dirt in frustration. As the hope that anyone was going to show up was almost drained out of me, I saw several figures come walking down the path. A huge weight felt like it was lifted off my shoulders as they turned to Field Two and go into the dugout. 

They were all laughing and didn't seem to notice me at first. A dark haired boy finally did, but he only smirked. "Look guys, it's Smartass herself," he said, looking proud of the joke he came up with.

His buddies all started to laugh as I glared at him.

"What did you say, Dickhead?" I barked back from where I stood.

The group froze when the insult left my eyes. All eyes looked to the dark haired boy who had started it. 

"Oh shit," one of the guys muttered.

The guy I just called a Dickhead turned around.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me, Red," he said smoothly.

I bristled at the nickname. My dad had called me Red since I could remember. No one else. It was a bit of a sacred name between Dad and I that no one else called me. 

"Don't call me that," I said through clenched teeth.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

The hair on the back of my neck stood up at his challenge. From my extended time interacting with guys my age, I knew that they considered your actions more important than your words. Girls on the other hand, did all major warfare through verbal battles. 

Realizing this was going to be a make or break moment for me to show them I was serious, I placed my bat to lean on the fence and started towards them. My hands were tightened into fists as my nails dug in to the skin.

"I'm going to show you what I'm going to do," I gritted out once I was standing toe to toe with this guy. He was more than a head taller than me, but I was more than ready to show him "what I was going to do about it."

Before I could even bring my fist back to punch the smirk off his face, a hand grabbed my wrist.

"That's not a good idea, Gloria," the person who grabbed my hand said.

I glanced over my shoulder to find Harrison looking up at me nervously. His eyes were wide and pleading me not to start trouble.

I relaxed my arm and gave him a small smile. Harrison seemed to start breathing again, but his hand stayed firmly latched on to my wrist. Smart boy.

"Is this your guard dog, Smalls?" the dark haired boy asked. His friends chuckled, but they kept an eye on me, waiting for my response. 

My shoulders tensed and I once again squared up with him. This guy just doesn't know when to quit.

"How about you fuck off?" I said glaring at him.

"Seems she's all bark, no bite, Smalls. Might need a new one," he stated without hesitation. He was baiting me and I was taking it, but I didn't care at this point. 

My hand unclamped Harrison's fingers from around my wrist. Gritting my teeth, I started stepping closer. The guy's friends began backing away, holding their hands up in surrender.

"You got real great friends," I commented, pointing at his retreating companions before curling my fingers back into fists.

"Like you're going to do anything... Red," he said, emphasizing the end of his sentence.

I brought my fist back and began to swing.

Unfortunately, before my knuckles could make contact with his face, an arm slid around my waist pulling me back.

The dark haired guy's eyes were wide as he realized that I was going to back up exactly what I had said. I kept swinging my arms and kicked out at the person who stopped me. I needed to go back and kick this guy's ass.

"He deserves it," I snarled, attempting to twist out of this person's grip. "Dickhead! You have it coming. I'm going to find you after this!" I squirmed some more and struggled. I clawed out to the air and huffed with rage. This guy had hit every one of my buttons with precision. I was already worked up enough and his words were only a catalyst. 

"Gloria, shut up and stop moving," Miles said in to my ear. Warm breath brushed against my ear and across my neck. I became stiff as a board when I realized who had stopped me from bashing this guy's head in. 

"Put me down," I snapped digging my cleats in to the ground as Miles dragged me out to the field away from everyone else. Miles stopped and unwrapped his arm from my waist. He turned me around and held my shoulders firmly so I had to look at him. 

"Do not do something stupid or else Coach Rust will kick you out. You know he's looking for any reason to get rid of you," he warned. His green eyes were narrowed as he regarded me with all seriousness. 

I sighed. I knew he was right, but that asshole has it coming, and since when did Miles care about me being here?

"The bastard deserves it and you're not my mother," I complained, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Trust me I wouldn't want to be, and Danny is just rough when you meet him, but you'll warm up to him."

"Hell no, I won't."

"Just try to get along with him."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"You are impossible."

He glared at me, smoke practically fuming from his ears. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his lips were pressed in to a thin line.

"And?" I shot back.

Miles just gave me a disapproving look before walking past me to his friends.

"What's up Danny boy?" he called out to the dark haired boy, who was looking at me like I had a third eye ball in the middle of my forehead. 

"Miles, my man," Danny said giving him a lopsided smirk after finally shaking his gaze away from me. They did some bro hand shake in greeting.

"What's up with crazy?" Danny asked, blatantly pointing at me.

My mouth dropped at him for his obvious gesture towards me. "Go die in a hole," I barked giving him a glare. 

"She's just not very nice right now," Miles said giving me a dirty look to tell me to shut my mouth.

"She's nice to look at, but once she opens that mouth," Danny commented trailing off.

"Trust me, I know," Miles responded, rolling his eyes.

I thought he was on my side?

"Wait, is this your roommate?" Danny asked, realization dawning on his face.

"Yeah," Miles replied, scratching the back of his neck.

"Have you banged her yet?"

My jaw went crashing to the ground when those words left his mouth.

"I'm still standing here!" I practically screamed at him. "And no, you bastard, we haven't nor will we ever 'bang!'"

Danny shrugged his shoulders. I went in to the dugout and angrily grabbed my glove and a ball.

"Come on, Harrison. We're throwing," I said gritting my teeth before I said anything else. 

"Okay," he squeaked following after me.

We went to the far corner of the outfield. I didn't want to be anywhere near Danny or I might get myself kicked out of this camp for wringing his neck.

Harrison and I started with easy tosses to warm up our arms. We threw in a comfortable silence. I didn't want anyone to talk at the moment because I was still pretty pissed off. I kept my breathing slow and even with the time of the throws.

No doubt, throwing and hitting have been my outlets for everything that goes wrong. I hit and threw everyday for three weeks after the thing with Chris. The repetitive movements of hitting or throwing a ball kept my thoughts away from what was really bothering me. I can't even remember how long I did that after Dad died. I would be out there for so long it would tire me out enough, so I would just fall asleep when I went to bed instead of tossing and turning for hours on end. 

Coach Russ finally showed up with the rest of the team. He had sent everyone else to go throw while he sat in the dugout writing things on a notepad. The rest of the team came out like a herd, pushing and shoving each other. They partnered up and started throwing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miles throwing with a taller guy with brown hair and brown eyes. The guy was really good looking and carried his height well with a toned body. He and Miles were laughing at something he said.

Miles opened his mouth and smiled wide when he was laughing. His blonde hair fell forward, yet he didn't care and continued to laugh along with the guy he was throwing with. 

"Alright, everyone over here," Coach yelled from the dugout.

We started jogging towards him. He pointed towards the pitching mound. As we ran in to the infield, Coach lumbered after us with a clipboard and pen. We circled around the dirt pile with Coach Russ slightly farther inside the circle.

"Welcome to your first day of practice," he began,"today is going to be one of the easiest practices because I just want to acclimate everyone to my practice style and drills. After this, it's just going to get harder. You will not leave this field without being covered in dirt and grass stains and knowing that you gave everything you had. Workout sessions in the afternoons will leave you sore and more tired than you ever have been, but that's what this camp is: an intensive. Since most of you don't know each other, we're going to do some introductions. I'll start and just model what I say. I'm Coach Russ, and I'm from Albany, New York. I played catcher when I played ball. Don't screw around with this or you can run suicides instead. Got it?"

Coach looked to the guy next to him to start.