8. Lux

EIGHT

LUX

"You look like a highlighter."

I glanced down at the trackpants and hoodie I was wearing. The bright orange trackpants and hoodie. My new favorite ones with the fleecy insides.

"Louis Vuitton sent them to me."

"Then you look like an expensive highlighter."

"I didn't know Louis Vuitton was taking inspiration from Staples," Tanner puffed out – puffed and snorted – as he ground to a halt after sprinting back across the tarmac when he realized he'd left his passport in the car.

My eyes flicked between him and Parker. "Did you two buy a pack of jokes from the Dollar Store this morning? Just because you're fashion illiterate, doesn't mean the rest of us are."

"Hey!" Tanner objected loudly, more loudly than he needed to, seeing as I was right next to him, and smoothed down the plain white tee he was wearing. "There's nothing wrong with my fashion. "

"Okay," I replied, with a half-assed shrug as we reached the steps of the plane, nodding to the two attendants waiting there to greet us.

Their eyes, however, were fixed on Ace and his still mangled face. The swelling had mostly gone down since last week, but the Arnica he'd been liberally applying had now turned the bruising to a fading, mottled purple, ringed with a heavy puke-green shade. He didn't look good.

Even though he'd strongly objected, he'd mostly confined himself to the apartment, or Payton's apartment, over the weekend. Holiday had been lured away with a pampering at the Four Seasons, and the one time our doorman came up to deliver a package and spotted Ace, Parker jumped in and said he'd been undergoing his annual cosmetics procedures, but the nurse had been someone he'd forgotten to call after sleeping with her, and she took her revenge.

Believable to say the least.

So far, nothing had hit the news, and the secret of our ass-kicking was safe.

Tanner was still mumbling about his t-shirt as I sat down. Tossing my bag on the floor once I'd retrieved my book, Parker picked it up and placed it with his on one of the three-seater couches stretching down the back half of the plane.

"Why did you say that? We'll never hear the end of it."

"He started it," I huffed as he sat down across from me, and turned to look out of the window to watch the air traffic control guys ready us for take-off.

I wasn't usually a huffy person, but this morning – or maybe the past few days – I'd been feeling more so. The usual end of season tiredness was kicking in. The adrenaline we survived on all season had finally run its course. It was the time of the year which coincided with the days getting shorter and colder, when all you wanted to do was hibernate and hunker down, watch movies, and sleep in… before it all started again at Spring Training.

This vacation couldn't come soon enough.

"You are looking particularly bright today, even if your face says otherwise," Parker pressed on.

I shrugged again. "I got it last week; it makes me feel less…" I waved my hand through the air, trying to find the right word, but nothing came. "Whatever… I dunno. Why do you care anyway?"

Parker leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees with his fingers locked together. "Dude, let me make this very clear: I absolutely do not care what you wear." A grin broke free from the solemn downturn of his mouth. "If I did, I would have said something a long time ago."

"Yeah, okay," I snorted, matching his grin with my own, and leaned back, one jittery foot resting on my knee as we waited for take-off.

I don't know why my wardrobe was a topic of conversation. Or rather, I was so used to the comments, I wasn't sure why they weren't flowing over me this morning like they usually did. Of the four of us, I was the one deemed to be the follower of fashion.

I wasn't.

I didn't follow fashion. I just liked what I liked and wore what I wanted. Clothes made me happy. Clothes got me pumped before a game, and I'd enter the stadium in the same way I'd imagine Wall Street guys hit the trading floor.

Ready to win.

It started when I was a kid. The first time I saw Derek Jeter wearing a pair of cream Air Jordans with pale orange piping and an orange swoosh. He'd stepped off the Yankees team bus, and I thought they were the coolest things I'd ever seen.

That Derek Jeter was so cool.

My obsession with baseball was already bordering on unhealthy, and I was practicing my catch and swing every waking moment I had – before school, during school, after school, before bed – and my bat came everywhere with me. If I could get those Air Jordans just like Derek Jeter, then I would get to the major leagues. I knew it.

My grandma had given me five dollars on my eighth birthday, and I'd known exactly what I'd wanted to buy with it – the Derek Jeter Air Jordans – except I was a little short – okay, a lot short – so I needed to get to work. I made flyers and mowed lawns on our street for two months to pay for them.

Finally, the day arrived, and my mom took me to the Nike store in Nashville, and I walked out on a cloud wearing my brand-new Air Jordans, just like Derek Jeter.

I don't know if it made a difference, but I now play in the major leagues. I have a contract with Nike, and fashion houses send me their clothes to wear.

But even though Nike could send me as many Air Jordans as I wanted, the first thing I do at the beginning of every season is buy a pair. Actually, I buy two; one pair I keep in New York to wear, the second I have on display in a custom closet in the house I bought my mom and sisters in Nashville.

I own every pair of limited edition Air Jordans ever made, and they all sit alongside my very first pair – the cream ones with orange piping and an orange swoosh.

Parker tapped against my jittering knee. "But seriously dude, what's up?"

My eyes sliced back to his before I replied, "Nothing, why?"

Across the aisle, Tanner tore open a packet of nuts with his teeth, and shook the contents into his hand. "You looked like someone shit in your favorite pancake pan."

Ace spluttered out a cough, along with the gum he'd been chewing, which landed in Tanner's lap.

He flicked it away. "Ugh."

Ace reached for the gum, now by his foot, and wrapped it in a piece of paper.

Parker and I were both wearing slightly bemused, not to mention confused, expressions, while Tanner continued throwing nuts into his mouth.

"What does that even mean?"

"You don't look happy."

"I'm fine," I shrugged again, though even as I said it, I didn't quite believe the words. "Why's everyone on my ass this morning? I'm tired. We're all tired. It's the end of season. We need this vacation."

My eyes flicked toward the cockpit as one of the stewards emerged, and pulled the curtain separating the little galley kitchen from the main cabin. "Gentlemen, we're ready for take-off. Please fasten your seatbelts."

"Bahamas, here we come!" whooped Tanner, the second the front wheels lifted a couple of minutes later.

Yeah, Bahamas. We'd finally decided on a destination with the help of a coin toss.

I watched the ground get further and further away, the people and cars, the boats on the Hudson, The Statue of Liberty and the George Washington Bridge vanishing to nothing more than tiny Lego pieces as we rose higher into the clouds, before disappearing for good. Pinching my nose to stop my ears popping, I took a deep breath and settled in. Tanner was up as soon as we leveled out, throwing himself onto one of the couches with such force I'm surprised it didn't knock the plane off course .

I picked my book up, only to put it down again as the steward appeared. "Gentlemen, what can I get you to drink before lunch is served?"

Parker glanced up from his phone. "We're officially on vacation. I think it needs to be four beers."

Ace and I both nodded in confirmation, and a loud, "Hell, yeah," came from the couch. Parker went back to his phone, and Ace did the same. I closed my eyes for what I knew would be a brief minute before the beers arrived.

"Cheers, boys," I toasted and held mine up after they'd been placed on the table in front of us, and then glanced at Ace. "How's your face?"

"All bruising." He leaned over to knock his bottle against mine and Parker's. "Nothing the sunshine won't fix."

Scratching through my beard, reminding myself I needed a shave before we hit the beach, I looked at his smirking face. "The ladies will love you again, and the world will right itself."

"I only care about Payton loving me, and as fucked up as I look…" a grin split his face as his brows waggled. "Not sure I'd recommend getting your ass kicked by four dudes for a bit of loving… but I wouldn't not recommend it."

"Did Radley reply?"

My eyes flicked to Parker, wishing he'd found some other topic to change the subject to from Ace's sex life. Bringing the bottle to my lips so I didn't have to verbalize it, I shook my head, though it didn't shake the twinge that pinged in my chest. I couldn't even pinpoint why it pinged. It was probably because I still felt a teeny bit guilty that Ace looked the way he looked, or that I'd gotten us into the mess in the first place.

But it was probably because I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Parker snapped his fingers directly in my face, making me frown. His, however, was lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh shit! That's it."

Ace and I looked at him, as did the steward who was handing around menus at the time.

"What's it?" I asked.

"The expression you've been wearing."

Ace's eyes flicked between mine and Parker's. At least he'd stopped looking cross-eyed, "Dude, I'm not following. Don't think Lux is either."

I wasn't. I definitely wasn't.

Parker's head fell back with a guffaw. "When Ace lost it last season, and Payton wasn't replying to him… that's what your face has been like the past few days – Ace's sulk… because you haven't heard from Radley."

"My face hasn't been like anything…" I scoffed, at the same time Ace huffed, "I didn't sulk!"

Parker's eyes widened, and we both stared at Ace until he said, "Okay, fine, maybe I sulked a little."

"Anyway…" Parker continued, "back to Lux."

No, not back to Lux. When did everyone decide I was the topic of conversation this morning? First my clothes, now this.

I scooped up a handful of nuts the steward had left with the beers. "What? I don't care Radley didn't reply. I didn't even want to text her in the first place."

"Bullshit…" was hollered from the couch.

"Go back to sleep!" I snapped. "Look, you wanna see how much I don't care? I'll delete the message and her number right now."

Yeah, that'd show them .

I snatched my cell off the table and opened my messages. I scrolled down the screen to where I knew the one I'd sent Radley was sitting. Except I couldn't find it.

It wasn't halfway down my messages; it was right there in the top spot.

The number one position.

Radley: Guess not. But you get points for trying. No one's ever done that before. Thank you.

M y heart gave one single hard thump, and I couldn't hold back the grin.

"What?"

I couldn't have been any more sheepish as I glanced up at them. "She replied."

Evidence would suggest I did care after all.

Goldilocks: Best literary character

Lux: That's easy – Winnie the Pooh

Goldilocks: But he's a cartoon, he doesn't count

Lux: He wasn't a cartoon in the books. He does count.

Goldilocks: He's a talking bear. You need a human character.

Lux: Why? It wasn't in the rules

Goldilocks: Because I say so.

Lux: Playing hardball, I like it. Then I'm going with Jack Ryan. Complex, tough, does what he needs to save the country. Gotta respect that, right?

Goldilocks: You're a philistine

Lux: How dare you! Jack Ryan saves the day every single time. Not unlike someone else you've recently met… *winky face*

Goldilocks: Is that what happened?

Lux: From what I remember, yes.

Goldilocks: I think you hit your head harder that you realized.

Goldilocks: I have to go, I'm at class now.

Lux: Study hard. Enjoy Elizabeth Bennett, even though she ranks somewhere in the low hundreds as a likeable character .

I waited to see if she'd bite back one more time, watching as the dot dot dot appeared then stopped.

Guess not.

I shut my phone off with a little chuckle and dropped it to the side, only to find Ace staring from the sunbed next to me, and not asleep like I thought he'd been. A few days in the sunshine, and his face was almost back to normal.

Parker and Tanner were on the deck below us, beers in hand, attempting to catch a Marlin. They were making adjustments to their fishing rods and staring out at the water like they'd done it a thousand times before. This was the first time, and if Tanner didn't move away from the edge of the deck soon, he'd be the one getting fished out.

Ace rolled onto his back and tugged on the waist of his shorts. They moved lower and lower as he shifted the band into a straight line, and retied the string, then pulled them down another inch.

"Duuude! Any further and your dick will be popping out, and I'm telling you right now, I'm not lying here while you sunbathe with your dick out."

"My dick's not coming out," he griped, but tugged them back up regardless, and turned to me with the same annoying shit-stirring grin he wore seventy percent of the time.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smirked, clearly making it something.

"What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just like that you've met a girl, is all."

"I…" I began then stopped.

Is that what had happened? I'd met someone?

Factually, I had met a girl, kind of, in the physical sense that we'd been in the same space in real life and had a conversation. And for the past four days we'd been messaging… some… a little bit. It wasn't like I'd been glued to my phone or anything.

"You've been glued to your phone."

I sat upright and pinned Ace with a stare, or I would have if the sun wasn't bouncing off the water and blinding me. "No, I haven't."

He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down and peered over, like my grandma did with her bifocals. "You've barely spoken since we got on the boat."

"We've been on the boat an hour, and for forty-five minutes of that, you've been asleep," I shot back.

He nodded to where I'd tossed my phone. "I was awake for the last fifteen minutes while you were tapping away over there."

I shrugged. "She was on her way to class; I had a limited conversation window."

"What've you been texting about?"

I laid back down, folding my arms behind my head.

We'd been fifteen minutes into the flight when Radley's message had come through. For the remainder of that flight, I'd spent the time wishing I hadn't been so obviously happy she'd replied, or to put it differently, I wish I hadn't told any of them anything about my life ever, because it became the sole topic of conversation.

I know, because I tried to change it several times.

The second I told them she'd replied, my three traveling companions jumped into action, taking it upon themselves to give me help I never asked for, and come up with a suitable response. It was an experience I never want to repeat, and I'm still baffled how the four of us manage to function in civilized society .

It's almost a blessing that we're baseball players with healthy bank accounts and a level of cache that means we don't usually have to try very hard to get girls, or we'd be single forever. Tanner would definitely end up with a cat… or five.

In a nutshell, it took four grown men almost six hours to draft a text message that read " You're welcome. Maybe I can use you for references when I'm done playing ball . I'm thinking of a career change…"

It had been unanimously voted as the best of several terrible options, but by that point, every single word had lost its meaning. For the second time, I winced and hit send on a message to a girl I liked.

Then got very drunk.

Another message was waiting for me when I woke the next morning with the mother of all hangovers.

Goldilocks: Sure. And there's always the C.I.A. if the Secret Service doesn't work out for any reason… can't think why it wouldn't.

I'd chuckled, which had shot a bolt of pain through my brain, so I decided to wait for my hangover to subside before I replied. Not to mention I wasn't lucid enough to come up with anything witty to respond with.

Once again, I didn't hear from her until the morning, and soon learned the only window I had to talk to her was before her first class at eleven. She always signed off when she arrived, and I'd hear nothing more for the rest of the day.

In those brief fifteen minutes, we'd talk about what classes she had – Jane Austen, Shakespeare, something about Victorian women which nearly sent me back to sleep – or whether she had time to run back to her dorm when she realized she'd forgotten her books, or how much coursework she already had. She told me how much she loved spending time in Brown's, and yesterday we talked about what our favorite books were.

In fact, books and reading seemed to be the subject she was most comfortable with. Any time I tried something new, she'd steer us right back. I'd let her, and then she'd sign off. After the first time, I hadn't been sure I'd hear from her again, but there'd been a message waiting for me every morning I'd woken up this week.

It had been five days, and I had a feeling I'd barely scratched the surface of Radley Andrews. I also knew I wanted to. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it had something to do with the girl I'd seen standing nervously on her own in a bar surrounded by people, and the girl I'd met with fire burning in her eyes.

Ace waved a hand in front of my face. "Weston, what do you talk about?"

Realizing he was still waiting for my answer, I turned my head to face him. "Books."

"Books?"

"Yeah, books."

"What sort of books?"

"The type you read, dumbass." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh." He was silent for a moment, but I knew it wouldn't last. One… two… three… four… "Have you told her why I tanked the Opening Day last season?"

"Yes. It was the first thing I told her."

"Really? "

I turned my head toward him again, squinting in disbelief that he believed me. His knock to the head had clearly damaged some brain cells too. "No, Dude. No. Of course I haven't."

"Don't forget to tell her."

I'd probably forget to tell her.

I said nothing; instead, I held my hand out. "Pass the sunscreen, will you?"

Before handing it to me, he squeezed out a large dollop in his palm and smeared it over his face, rubbing so hard it was like he was trying to remove his top layer of skin. The sunscreen was so thick it had turned his eyebrows white, and left a thin stripe along the edges of his hairline.

I squeezed out less.

"Are you seeing her when we get back?"

"I haven't asked her yet," I replied, chuckling to myself as I smoothed out the smiley face I'd drawn on my belly.

"Do you want to?"

"Yeah," I nodded, meeting his earnest gaze when it dawned on me he was the only one of us I could talk to about this without a joke being made. "Yes, I do. I want to see her."

"Then ask her," he said simply, like he'd always been this wise.

He sat up and peered down to where Parker and Tanner were still standing by a couple of fishing poles. Empty fishing poles. Tanner was peering down at the water like he expected a fish to jump into his arms.

"Do it now before Tanner falls in, and we have to rescue him."

I laid back down, readying myself to mentally compose the text. "Yeah, I will. "

A loud splash, followed by a roar of laughter from Parker, and an even louder one from Ace, said my time was up. Ace jumped to his feet and sprinted down the steps, yelling behind him as he did.

"Do it, Weston, then get your ass in the water!"

I snatched up my phone.

Lux: I'm back in two days, so what do you say, Goldilocks? Want to meet and talk books IRL?