19. Chandler

NINETEEN

chandler

"Chandler, grab the silver ones over there," Caroline said, her hands gesturing toward a stack of shiny trophies on the edge of the table. "We need to get these sorted before the first games wrap up."

"Got it," I replied, my fingers closing around the cool metal as I began to distribute them into neat rows designated for each tier winner.

Willow slid in next to me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, how was your night last night?" she asked with a knowing wink.

"Good," I said, feeling my cheeks warm under her expectant stare.

"Did you finally, you know, give away that V-card?"

I exhaled a laugh, shaking my head. "No, not yet. I told you, Will. I doubt he believes I’m ready."

"Since our underwear plan didn't work out so well, what if you try Plan B?" she prodded, neatly placing a trophy on the table.

"Which is?" I found myself genuinely curious, even as I lined up another award.

"Talk to him. Tell him how you're feeling."

I sighed, the weight of her suggestion settling in my chest. "I guess I could do that."

"Chandler, just tell him." She paused before continuing. "Guys are never the best at reading your mind—trust me."

"It's just..." I hesitated, my hand hovering over a smaller trophy—probably a participation one. "I didn't plan on my summer being this way. The more I'm around him, the harder it gets to stay strong and keep my feelings about him buried."

"Feelings are tough," Willow murmured, her attention drifting across the field. I followed her line of sight to where Parker was rallying his teammates with a clap on their backs and an infectious grin. “Sometimes no matter what we do... we just can’t ignore them.”

"Hey, speaking of feelings," I nudged her gently, my curiosity getting the better of me, "you doing okay with all that?" I tilted my head toward my brother. "I mean, after last summer and everything."

Willow's gaze lingered on Parker for a fraction too long before she snapped back to the present, forcing brightness into her smile. "Oh, yeah, don't worry about me. He doesn’t seem like the type to settle down, and we're great as friends." She busied herself with another trophy.

"You sure?" I pressed, not entirely convinced but willing to let it slide until she was ready to talk about it. She was right, he wasn’t the type to settle down but maybe the right girl just hadn’t come along yet.

"Positive," she confirmed, though her voice wavered just enough to make me wonder if she did have feelings for Parker. "Anyway," Willow suddenly perked up, her eyes sparking with mischief, "you know who isn't such a great friend? Bailey!"

"Bailey?" I echoed, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. "What did he do now?"

"His snoring is so loud, Chandler. Like a freight train barreling through the room." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "So, I kept pressing the recliner button on the sofa he's sleeping on. When it would close, he would fall on the ground and it would wake him up."

"Wait, seriously?" I snickered.

"Every time," she nodded with glee. "He kept cussing at the couch, like it had a grudge against him!" She let out a loud genuine snicker, lightening the momentary shadow that had crossed her features earlier. "I laughed myself back to sleep each time. Comedy gold, I tell you."

"Remind me never to fall asleep around you," I teased, unable to hold in our laughter as we turned back to the trophies.

After we finished our work, we got to settle in and relax as we watched the games.

"Come on, Blue Devils!" I yelled. They had won the first game, and now the second was teetering on the edge of intensity.

Reese was on second base, ready to run, his eyes fixed on the pitcher. Boston was next up to bat, his bat resting casually over his shoulder as he eyed the mound.

"He’s got this," Willow whispered, as if she could predict the outcome of the play.

The pitcher wound up, releasing the ball with a flick of his wrist. It bounced off the plate, skidding away before the catcher scooped it up, prompting the umpire's loud call. "Ball!"

"Stay focused, Boston," I said to myself.

The pitcher grinned, clearly plotting, before he tossed out a changeup. But Boston wasn't fooled. At the very last moment, he swung. The crack of the bat meeting the ball sliced through the cheers, sending a line drive into the outfield, just out of the center fielder's desperate dive.

"Go, Reese!" we screamed. The stands erupted as Reese dashed from second, rounding third and charging home, while Boston took his place on second.

We were all on our feet then, our cheers rising as the scoreboard ticked up a run in our favor. Parker stepped up to the plate, his confidence palpable even from the bleachers.

"Come on, Parker!" My cheer tore from my throat, vibrant and hopeful.

The pitcher, still recovering from Boston's hit, threw another pitch. Parker connected with it solidly, and we watched, holding our collective breath as it soared toward the third baseman. Boston stays planted on second, not taking the chance. The ball bounced a few times through the dirt before the third baseman snatched it up and hurled it to first.

"Run!" I screamed, as if my voice could help Parker get to the base faster.

Parker's foot hit the bag a mere millisecond before the ball smacked into the first baseman's glove, and I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Safe!" yelled the umpire.

"Thank God," I exhaled, feeling the tension drain away from my shoulders.

The next batter stepped up and got on base, driving Boston past third and in to score. After a pitching change, the other team got out of the inning with a double play, but the damage had been done.

"We got this!" I yelled as the teams switched. Our team was a wall—they let one batter on base, but gave them no chance after that. No runs scored, and since we were already ahead, we wouldn’t have to bat again in the bottom of the ninth.

"Out! That's the game!" The final call rang out, and the field was suddenly a blur of motion. Players rushed onto the diamond, high-fiving and cheering.

"Great game!" I shouted, jumping up and down the bleachers. All I wanted was to find Boston, but Parker was closest, and I threw my arms around him first.

"Amazing job, Park!"

"Thanks, sis!" he beamed, ruffling my hair.

Then Boston was there, turning from another congratulatory embrace. I caught his eye, and something passed between us—a current, a spark.

"Congrats! You killed it," I said, my voice somehow both loud and intimate.

"Thank you," Boston replied. And then, to my surprise, he swept me up into a spin. His strength was effortless, his laughter genuine, and for a moment, the world whirled away until he set me back on my feet, my heart racing for reasons beyond excitement from the game.

The rest of the Blue Devils merged on the field after the postgame handshake. Amidst the chaos, I locked eyes with Reese, who was wiping sweat from his brow with a nonchalance that only he could pull off after such a heated game. "Nice moves out there," I called out to him.

Reese shot back his infamous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth before he sent a wink in my direction.

Crew and Bailey jumped in the air and bumped bodies. Bailey, of course never one to be unnoticed, thrusted his fist into the air as he strutted past us, shouting triumphantly, "Fuck yeah! We're going out tonight and celebrating that shit!" His enthusiasm was contagious, spreading quickly through the team.

I couldn't help but laugh at Bailey's antics, sharing a look with Reese that said we were both in for whatever wild plans were unfolding. But then my attention was caught by a tender moment unfolding at the edge of the field. Willow wrapped her arms around her dad in a heartfelt embrace. He, a stern man throughout the tournament, softened under her touch, his face breaking into a genuine smile—one I hadn’t seen once this weekend.

A couple hours later, Willow and I were getting ready for the night in her suite.

"I love the lighting in this bathroom," Willow said, her hands a whirlwind of motion as she pulled items out of her bathroom bag.

"I know, it’s such a nice suite," I said, looking around at how much more room she had compared to the regular rooms.

"Okay, so the guys are still downstairs," she said, laying out an array of cosmetics on her vanity. "They're probably stuffing their faces with that third round of appetizers and making their way to the lobby bar."

"Sounds about right," I laughed.

"Which gives us ample time to transform into goddesses," Willow continued, picking up a mascara wand and gesturing for me to sit down.

"Or at least attempt to," I quipped, taking a seat and watching her work her magic.

"Hey, no self-deprecation on my watch," Willow scolded lightly, her hand steady as she worked on my lashes. "You’re going to knock it out of the park—have them all stunned."

"Thanks, Will," I whispered, thankful for her unwavering confidence.

"Speaking of knocking it out of the park," Willow segued, a grin spreading across her lips, "I told my dad to have the center fielder stay more toward left field anytime number 3 on the other team went to bat."

"And?" I prompted, my curiosity piqued as I opened my eyes to see her beaming.

"He said I was spot on," she exclaimed. "He said I was his kid after all. They got him out every time."

"Seriously, Will," I said, leaning back as she finally set the mascara wand aside, "you're going to be the best coach ever. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I know. It's just getting other people to see that," she said, tilting her head.

"Trust me," I reassured, giving her a warm smile, "they will."

"Anyway," she shifted gears, delving into the depths of her suitcase. "I have the perfect outfit for you tonight. If you're planning to lose that V-card, you need to look hot." With a huge grin, she pulled out a black minidress, with a daring stomach cutout.

"Willow, I can't pull that off," I protested, eyeing the dress like it was cursed.

"Oh, girl, you can and you will," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument as she shoved the garment into my hands.

Hesitantly, I held up the small piece of fabric, stretching it slightly. "Alright, let's see how this goes," I said, hesitantly.

Stepping off the elevator into the lobby, the chatter around the bar hushed as all eyes turned our way. Clutching Willow's arm, I fought the urge to hide behind her confidence.

Boston's blue gaze found me. His reaction was a silent gasp, his hand pausing mid-air before his glass dropped down onto the bar with a loud clunk. He shifted, his posture altering subtly as if the sight of me had surprised him. A warm flush bloomed across my cheeks.

"Chandler, go back to the room," Parker interrupted our silent moment.

I turned toward my brother, giving him a glare. "Why?"

"You forgot to put your clothes on," he teased, never missing an opportunity to embarrass me.

"Shut up, Parker," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"Looking good, Willow," he added, nodding at her.

"Why, thank you," Willow beamed, accepting the compliment with a flair that only she could pull off.

“We got everyone?” Bailey asked, looking around the lobby.

“Yeah,” Parker added. “Reese and a few others are already at the bar.”

“Then let’s go,” Bailey encouraged, pointing toward the exit.

The group's laughter faded into the background buzz of the lobby and we made our way outside. The night air greeted us as we crossed the street on our way to the bar nearby.

Boston held back just enough so that we lagged behind the others.

"Hi," I managed, suddenly aware of the space between us.

"You look fucking amazing," he bit his lip, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warm evening.

"Thank you," I whispered, surprised at how his simple words could make my heart race. As we walked, our hands brushed occasionally—a simple touch, yet subtle enough to be our secret exchange.