Chapter 6

Not surprising, I woke up alone in my bed. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and found a text from Gina. Did you hook up with Sam?

I laughed to myself as I texted my response. And ruin our newfound bromance? No.

Gina: LOL. Wanna go to the game with me tonight?

Me: Yes, but only bc I told Sam I might.

Gina: I'll drive. Meet me out front at 5.

Me: K

I finally climbed out of bed around noon and got into the shower. Since my shampoo was in the guest room, I used Crew's, knowing I'd end up smelling like him for the rest of the day. When I stepped out, I grabbed a towel and used it to ring the water from my hair before wrapping it around myself.

I opened the door and froze. Crew lay on my bed with an open book in his hand.

"Fierce, frightening, fabulous…the ocean is," he read.

The blood drained from my face.

"Special, symphonic, solitary…the beach is," he continued.

"Give me that." I moved toward him with my hand out. "It's not yours."

"Enormous, extraordinary, elaborate…the universe is," he read.

I grabbed it out of his hand.

"I didn't know you wrote poetry," he said.

I held the book against my chest. "It's rude to read other people's thoughts without their permission."

"I didn't realize it was private," he said.

"It was buried in the bottom of my closet," I argued.

"Well, maybe it shouldn't be."

I rolled my eyes and walked out.

* * *

I'd thrown on some jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a blue camo baseball cap. I met Gina at five and slipped into her car.

"You look ready for a ball game," she said.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

We took the short drive through town until we reached the parking lot for the ball park. For a week night, it was pretty full.

"I brought us chairs," she said, knowing there was a designated area on a grassy hill on the first base line where all the host families sat.

Her family hosted baseball players until Gina turned fifteen. After that, having good-looking college baseball players under the same roof became problematic for her parents. They knew baseball players could turn even the most innocent girl bad.

We unpacked the chairs from her trunk then walked the short distance to the entry. Most people who didn't know the area probably wouldn't have even known the field was behind a set of buildings on the main road. There was no big sign, and certainly no grandstand—just a few bleachers on both sides and lots of grassy areas to sit. Even though some of the guys would be going pro, they weren't there yet, which made the draw for games rather lackluster—but free. They'd get their day, my dad always said. He'd know. He played for almost eighteen years in the big leagues after starting right here in the Cape League where he'd met my mom—a local girl—and then had me. The thought of how happy they must've been when they first met roiled my stomach. The future must have looked so bright for my mom who'd grown up in this small town. Funny how things had a way of changing.

"Hi, Stu," I said as we reached the gate.

"Look at you all grown up," the old greeter gushed.

"It happens to us all," I said.

"No lie," he agreed. "I hear Crew Burke's living with you this summer."

"So it seems."

"The guy's a beast," he said as he stepped aside so we could enter.

"That's one word for him," I mumbled as I followed Gina to a spot in the host family section. I opened both of our chairs while she was busy looking for Cody on the field.

"Peyton!" someone shouted.

I spun around to find Sam on the field leaning against the fence. His uniform fit him well. The short sleeves on his red shirt showed off his impressive biceps. "Hey."

He smiled. "Glad you came."

"Whoa," I said. "We didn't get that far, buddy."

He laughed. "Did you really just say that?"

"She did," Gina interrupted, never surprised by anything that left my lips.

"Enjoy the game," he said.

"I will now that we got a good view of right field and nowhere near that reprehensible shortstop." I shivered at the thought.

"Do you even know who our shortstop is?" he asked.

I shook my head.

He laughed as he walked away and tossed the ball to one of his teammates.

"He's really cute," Gina said. "And he likes you."

"He's all right."

"Might you break your no-dating-baseball-players rule for him?" she asked.

"Nope."

Once we secured our spot on the hill, we grabbed a hot dog and a drink from the concession stand. From there, we watched a local girl sing the national anthem as the players and fans stood facing the flag in centerfield.

Gina and I returned to our chairs as the first pitch was thrown. I scanned the field for familiar faces. I spotted Sam in right field, and Gina pointed out Cody behind the plate in catcher's gear. I scoffed once I saw the shortstop.

Of course, it was Crew.

I didn't recognize the pitcher, but the announcer said that he stood at six five and attended the University of Tennessee. He struck out the first three batters, and the Sharks jogged off the field. I tried not to look at Crew—since every other fan seemed to be, but he was like a magnet drawing me in. He filled out his uniform like a major leaguer, and the ball cap pulled down to his eyes gave the impression that he was focused on nothing but the game.

At the bottom of the first inning, Cody walked up to the plate as their leadoff batter. He was introduced as attending the University of Kansas. Gina tried not to act too excited, just clapping from her chair, but I knew she was bursting to jump to her feet—especially when he hit a single to left field. The next batter attended the University of Texas and hit into a double play causing the fans around us to groan as he and Cody were called out and jogged off the field. The third batter stepped up to the plate. As soon as his name was announced, the fans roared—scratch that. The female fans roared. "Crew Burke from the University of Alabama."

My stomach dropped.

Gina's mouth formed an O. "He goes to your school?"

The information played through my head. So did visions of people on campus. Had we met? Was that why he was so cold toward me? Had we hooked up and I'd forgotten?

"Peyton?" Gina asked again.

"There're almost forty thousand students. I don't know everyone."

"I bet he knows you," she said.

"Why wouldn't he say anything?"

"Have you given him the chance?" she asked.

"We don't have long conversations," I said, feeling a little guilty that I hadn't mentioned our precarious sleeping arrangement to her. But it was only because I knew what she'd say. What any rational person would say. Why?

On the field, Crew settled into his stance in the batter's box. The pitcher released a wicked curve ball. Crew watched it without swinging, and the ump called it a strike. Crew stepped out of the batter's box, readjusted his batting gloves, and stepped back in. The pitcher wound up and released another pitch. This one was a fast ball right over the plate. Crew swung, connecting with the ball and sending it flying high and far. The fans around me leaped to their feet just in time to see it sail over the left field fence. Crew didn't celebrate like his teammates did outside the dugout. He just trotted around the bases with his head down, showing no excitement. He was all business. Once he reached home and his teammates slapped his hand one by one, I glimpsed the slightest smile on his face before he disappeared into the dugout.

"He's so hot."

I glanced to a girl around my age seated with a friend nearby.

"I heard he hooked up with Val the other night," her friend said.

"I thought he was hooking up with Steph?" she asked.

Her friend shrugged. "These guys get around."

They sure did.

When the Sharks ran out onto the field for the top of the second inning, the girls beside us cheered, and I could tell their attention was directed at Crew.

I rolled my eyes and scrolled through the feed on my phone.

"Welcome back," Janie, a girl Gina and I had grown up with at the beach, stopped beside us.

"Thanks," I said, knowing we were in for an earful.

Her eyes moved to the field. "How's Crew doing?"

"Let me guess. Another Crew fan?" I said.

"Who isn't?" she said, the awe in her voice impossible to ignore.

"The guy might be good at baseball, but he's a player," I said.

"Yeah. He's definitely not looking for anything serious," Janie agreed. "But I think the girls around here see that as a challenge. Like, who will be the one to make him commit."

"Good luck with that," Gina said, without tearing her eyes away from Cody.

"From what I hear," Janie continued, "he doesn't even do a lot of talking behind closed doors."

"Just wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am?" I said.

"Exactly," she explained. "And, he takes their phones away."

"What?" Gina asked, finally tearing her eyes off of Cody.

Janie nodded. "Weird, right?"

"Actually, it's pretty smart," I said.

They both looked to me, waiting for my rationale. "He probably doesn't want to risk any videos of him going viral, especially if he's got any shot of getting drafted."

"Makes sense," Janie agreed. "So, all these girls get left with is the memory—"

"And the crummy T-shirt," I added.

Gina and Janie laughed.

"He seriously doesn't talk?" I asked.

Janie shrugged. "From what I hear, not really."

"That's weird," Gina interjected.

"Yeah," I said, "since he has no trouble voicing his disdain for all things me."

The left fielder caught the third out, and the Sharks jogged off the field. As they did, I spotted Crew and his eyes were locked on mine, narrowing coldly. What the hell? Didn't he just tell me—behind closed doors—that he wasn't my enemy? Because he was sure acting like it.