29. Chandler

TWENTY-NINE

chandler

I gasped, almost choking on hairspray as Willow was getting ready in the bathroom. The counter was a mess of curling irons and mascara wands. She paused her eyeliner in mid-stroke and let out a sigh. "I can't believe we're already at the end of summer.”

"Tell me about it," I replied, leaning against the doorway. "I always say it flies, but this one really did." I caught her reflection in the mirror—eyes bright, lips curved in a knowing smile.

She twisted a lock of her curly blonde hair around her finger. "Who would've thought I'd be going to the ball with your brother?"

"Oh, I had a feeling," I said, rolling my eyes playfully at her through the mirror.

"Can you blame me?" she teased, her cheeks glowing with a flush of excitement. "He's hot, funny, a badass catcher."

"Please stop before I get sick right here," I groaned, half-serious and half-amused by her recent infatuation with Parker.

Despite my happiness for her, there was also a twinge of disappointment there. I was genuinely happy for her, yes, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I wasn’t going to the ball. Half of the excitement was getting ready, and getting picked up by the hot guy.

A knock at the front door echoed through her apartment, signaling that it was time for her to go. "That's got to be Parker," I called out to Willow, who was adding the last touches to her makeup. "Finish getting ready and make your grand entrance when you're done."

"All of my entrances are grand," she teased.

I made my way to the door, ready to tease Parker with some kind of joke about whatever he was wearing, like usual. However, Parker wasn’t on the other side of the door. It was Bailey, looking unexpectedly dapper in a suit. Something I would never admit aloud to anyone.

"Ugh, can we help you?" I asked.

Bailey's response came with an easy smile and a wink. "I can do you one better, darlin'," he drawled. "I'm gonna take you to the ball."

I couldn't contain my laughter. "Absolutely not. You can go on your way now." I started to close the door, but Bailey was quicker, wedging his foot firmly in the gap.

"Please," he said softly, in a way that made me pause, then added, "We can go as friends. Heck, I'll even wear a sign that says 'platonic dates' if that'll sell it for you."

My mouth quivered into a reluctant grin. I wasn’t sure what Bailey was up to, but if he didn’t have a date then going to the ball as friends was a better plan than sitting in bed and eating ice cream all night.

"Fine," I sighed, giving Bailey a stern look. "But if you try anything funny, or so much as think about touching my butt, I will pepper spray you. I carry it in my purse. It looks like lipstick, and I'm not afraid to use it."

Bailey held his hands up in surrender, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that was trying hard not to turn into a full-blown grin. "I come in peace," he assured me.

Opening the door wider, I motioned toward the living room. "Fine. I guess I need to get ready, then. You’re welcome to wait on the couch."

As soon as the word “couch” slipped past my lips, Bailey recoiled as if I had suggested he sit on a bed of nails. He hissed dramatically. "Have I ever told you how much I hate couches? Especially ones that turn into beds."

From the bathroom, Willow's laughter echoed through the apartment. She would forever be responsible for Bailey's aversion to sleeper sofas, which was still endlessly hilarious.

"That couch doesn't turn into a bed, you're in the clear," I assured him, rolling my eyes at the absurdity.

"How do you not have a date?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He laughed. "I lost ‘em both, Chan."

"Both?" I asked.

"Both of my dates." He shrugged as though it was nothing more than a minor miscalculation. "Figured two was better than one, but they didn’t think so when they found out. You know how it goes."

"I’m not sure I do," I said, unable to stop a smile.

Bailey grinned. "Hey, I learn from my mistakes! Women want me all to themselves, I get it."

"That’s the lesson you learned?" I said, but it was sort of sweet that Bailey had thought of me. Even if it was only so he didn't have to go alone.

Willow's face appeared just outside the bathroom door frame, waving me toward her. "Why is Bailey here?"

"Guess he's my date," I said, reaching for the makeup bag. “He lost both of his.”

“EEK!” she shrieked. “I’ll grab you a dress. Thank god I prepared for moments like this.”

Another knock on the door interrupted us, and I pointed toward it with a smile. "Now that has to be Parker."

I made it halfway there when I noticed someone beat me to it. Bailey, already lounging like he owned the place, swung the door open as he leaned against the frame.

"What the fuck. You're not the hot blonde I expected," Parker grumbled, his face momentarily sour before breaking into a teasing grin.

"Ouch, that hurts," Bailey shot back.

"She's almost done getting ready," I interjected, hoping to diffuse any tension before it could start.

Parker shifted his weight, his gaze sliding past Bailey to find mine. "Why the hell is Bailey here? Is he lost?"

"Still figuring that out myself," I replied, meeting Parker's raised eyebrow with an innocent shrug.

"I'm here to take your sister to the ball, if you must know." He gave Parker a challenging smirk.

Parker's protective glare was obvious even from several feet away. Then he turned to me. "Chandler, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop dating my teammates."

I opened my mouth to protest, "Parker, I'm not dating?—"

But that's when Willow chose to make her grand entrance. She stepped out of the bathroom, the light catching the sequins on her dress and making her shimmer. Parker's jaw practically unhinged, and he quickly sidestepped.

"Peasants, out of the way—she's coming through."

Despite the eye roll I couldn't suppress, a proud smile crept onto my lips. Willow did look stunning, and somewhere between Parker's dumbfounded expression and Bailey's intrusion, I knew it was going to be a great night. They patiently waited for me to get ready before we took off.

I knew how stunning the ball would be since Caroline had worked us tirelessly to get it finished. It was magic—-glimmering lights and swaying bodies. Bailey extended his arm to me as we entered, a grin spread across his face. I hesitated, my hand hovering over it like a bird uncertain whether to land or fly far away. Finally, I let my fingers rest lightly on his sleeve. It wasn't as if I had many options, and besides, I was determined to enjoy the night—even with him.

For a moment, my mind drifted to Boston, how good he would have looked in a tux, his perfectly tousled hair that always reminded me of every hot lifeguard at the beach. His tux would have somehow showed off his broad shoulders and muscles. But he was miles away from this small town, probably lounging in some upscale suite, surrounded by people wooing him with talk about his pro career—a world apart from me.

Bailey interrupted my thoughts when he tapped me on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go grab us some drinks."

"Make it a strong one," I quipped, watching as Parker clapped a hand on Bailey's shoulder, the two of them disappearing into the crowd.

Willow linked her arm with mine as we navigated towards our table. "This is it, the last hoorah before our summer responsibilities are over," she sighed.

"Then real life kicks in," I whispered, my gaze scanning the room. I wondered how Reese was doing. He had brought me to the ball last summer, and although we were both in different places now, I thought I might always have a soft spot for him.

Reese was impossible to miss when he wanted to be seen. Yet there was no trace of him.

"Think Reese will make an appearance?" Willow asked, following my line of sight.

"Of course. He wouldn't pass up a chance to bask in his own glory." My words carried a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, there he is." I followed Willow's gaze across the room. The khaki suit he wore looked like it was custom made. His dark hair and those enigmatic green eyes were in deep contrast against the light fabric. He laughed at something the Coach said and I remembered how that effortless charm had both intrigued and infuriated me last summer.

The chatter around started to quiet as Caroline took her place at the front, tapping the microphone.

"Good evening, everyone! If I could have your attention, please," she said. "We're going to begin the awards shortly, so if you could all find your seats, we'll get started."

Soon, the room settled, excited faces turning toward Caroline as she beamed back at them.

"Welcome to the annual Blue Devil awards night—a celebration of our team's hard work and dedication this summer," she announced. "Let's give these players the recognition they deserve!"

Applause erupted. My gaze found Reese again. He was headed in our direction. He took the seat opposite Parker, and Bailey slid into the seat beside me.

"Here’s a vodka lemonade for my date," he teased.

Across the table, Reese's eyes flicked up, a slight eyebrow raised in response to Bailey's claim.

The excitement in the room grew with each award announced as the evening progressed. Applause rippled through the room, punctuated by the occasional cheer as the players were recognized for their accomplishments.

"And now, for best batting average..." Caroline's voice boomed through the microphone, her pause drawing out the suspense before she finally declared, "Boston Riley!"

A round of applause erupted, though not as thunderous as before—Boston's absence was evident. "Unfortunately, Boston couldn't be with us tonight, but we'll make sure he gets this award," Caroline added, prompting nods and understanding from the crowd.

I felt a pang in my chest—a mix of pride and disappointment—and I discreetly pulled out my phone. I typed out a quick message to Boston. ”You were recognized for best batting average. Wish you could've been here.”

No response, no typing—nothing. With a sigh, I pocketed my phone, trying to shake off the feeling of insignificance that crept upon me. Perhaps this little gathering seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things to someone like Boston, who was already moving onto bigger and better things.

The crowd hushed again as Caroline took to the podium once more. "And now," she began, the weight of the moment palpable, "the award we've all been waiting for—the Most Valuable Player."

Bailey's grin was infectious as he kept holding up the award he’d won. Parker, too, seemed proud, medals adorning his chest with his awards. And Reese... Reese had a collection of trophies by his side.

"It’s Reese again—no surprise," Bailey whispered.

"The MVP goes to... Boston Riley!"

A collective gasp cut through the room before the applause. Out of habit, my eyes darted to Reese, expecting his usual cool smirk, but instead, I saw him straighten up, as he adjusted his tie.

Silence settled over our table as Reese quietly stood, and then slowly made his departure from the room. The echo of the double doors closing behind him seemed louder than the applause, and even Caroline's confident voice hitched for the briefest of moments.

Bailey half-rose, concern etching his features.

I shook my head slightly, placing a hand on his arm. "I got this," I whispered, offering him a reassuring look.

With careful steps, I slipped out of the room, following Reese’s path. The back patio was covered in moonlight, but Reese wasn’t there. I followed a path from the patio that led out to a dock. He was there, leaning back on his hands, gaze focused on the shimmering lake.

I sat down beside him, trying my best to fold my dress underneath me. The gentle lapping lake water against the shore offered some comfort—it had always been one of my favorite things. "Could your ego really not deal with that?" I asked, taking in the view alongside him. "How many times have you won that award?"

Reese's gaze remained fixed on the distant ripples on the lake's surface. "It's not about the award.”

"Then what is it about?" I asked.

"Everything else this summer." His words were heavy, carrying more than just disappointment. "I've been distracted with my real mom, with other shit going on... I let myself slack on the one thing that really does matter."

"Slack?" I turned to look at him. "If this year was you slacking, then I am terrified of what you're going to do when you go pro and you're on your game."

That earned me a glance, finally. Reese's lips curled into a smile, the one that disarmed every situation. "It's always so simple with you," he said, shaking his head.

"Reese, you were meant to play baseball—that is simple, yes," I said. "But everything else isn't. Life is far from simple."

He was silent for a moment, contemplating something. "Yeah, I finally decided to meet with her," he admitted, almost to himself.

I turned to face him fully, surprised. "Cindee?"

"Yep." He shrugged. "Don't even know how I found myself there, but... it felt like some kind of step. Still a million miles to go, though."

I reached out, placing a tentative hand on his arm. "That's okay, Reese. Go at your own pace. Don't push yourself if you're not ready." I paused, finding the courage to add, "I grew up next door to her, and I've seen how big her heart can be, though. I promise you, it’s there.”

Reese ran a hand through his dark hair. "Speaking of hearts," he said, obviously deflecting, "how's that hot girl summer going? Going the way you planned?"

I let out a dry, bitter chuckle and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I tried," I confessed, staring at the ripples in the lake. "I tried to be careful, not to dive into anything too deep. I told myself I wouldn't get hurt again this summer... I guarded my heart." I drew in a deep breath. "But here I am. Hurt."

"Chandler," Reese said softly, "hearts aren't meant to be guarded. No matter how much we try to control them, they're meant to be stolen—whether we allow it or not."

I couldn't help but let out a soft sigh. I wouldn’t admit it, but I knew he was right. The tension in my shoulders eased as I leaned sideways, resting my head on his shoulder. The fabric of his suit was soft against my cheek, and for a moment, all the chaos of summer seemed to fade into the background. We sat there, together, sharing the silence that felt like genuine understanding. I knew in that moment exactly who I wanted to be with, exactly who had stolen my heart.

Before I could respond, the quiet of the night was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat—an unmistakable, deliberate noise designed to grab attention. My heart leaped into my throat as I straightened up and Reese shifted beside me.

Standing a few feet away from us was Boston. His blue eyes were sharp, focused intently on us.