Page 23 of I Wish He Would

She returns to pulling at the tassels on the pillow. “I usually see you every week. I thought you’d rather spend your time off doing something you can’t normally do during the season, like visit your family.”

“I love visiting Boston in the fall once the season is over. What I really need during my days off is a beach vacation.”

She looks up at me again with a wary gaze. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind going?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. The beach. Free food. Free entertainment. My best friend.” I shrug casually. “It doesn’t get much better than that.”

Alyssa runs her fingers through her hair. “Okay, if you’re really sure, then I’ll let you know in the next week or so.”

“Sounds good.” I press play on our episode and turn back toward the TV. Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed her so hard. But I just wish she had felt comfortable enough to ask me in the first place. Maybe I think we’re closer friends than we actually are. Should I have been encouraging her to ask Rhett to the wedding? Can you wingman a woman?

I don’t understand why I can’t stop thinking about all of this. I never overthink anything, but I have a feeling these thoughts aren’t going to just disappear with half of an episode of my favorite show.

I’m going to need a hardcore workout later. People exercise to relieve stress all the time, right? I just need a weights session to help relieve all this tension.

I swing and hear the crack of the bat connecting with the baseball.

“Dang, you’re even hitting Fletch’s slider.” Hayden Patterson, the Mustangs’ designated hitter and relief pitcher, pushes off the backstop and saunters over.

He’s got his baseball cap on backward, per usual, and some of his wavy blond hair is sticking out. Hayden probably weighs the most out of anyone on our team, but the guy’s all muscle and just a couple inches shorter than me. “What’s gotten into you?”

Our starting pitcher, Cornelius Fletcher, is a bit of a playboy—always pictured in the media with a different girl—but he’s also one of the best pitchers in the league. I’m glad I’m on his team and not trying to hit off his pitches in games. His slider is next level, but I’m connecting with just about every pitch he’s throwing my way in practice today.

It’s probably because I’m still trying to get rid of the weird feelings lingering from last night. I worked out for three hours after Alyssa went home, but it didn’t help clear my head. If anything, it made my thoughts more prominent.

Even now, with each swing of the bat, they’re still there.

I don’t understand why I can’t seem to get past the fact that Alyssa is talking to Rhett Hayes.

“Guess I’m on fire today.” I’m usually not short with my teammates, but I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.

“Nah.” Hayden stops in front of me and holds up a hand to Fletch before he can throw another pitch. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

I scoff. “Gee, thanks.”

He shoots me a look. “You know what I mean. I’ve been watching Fletch. He’s locked in, and no one hits that many of his pitches in a row. Not even me.”

I tighten my grip on the bat. “Luck, then.”

Hayden’s gaze narrows. “No, something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up.”

“It is.” He taps his temple. “I have a sixth sense about these things.”

Fletch jogs toward us, combing back his sweat-soaked dark brown hair with his free hand. He has a superstition that if he cuts his hair during the season, he’ll lose his mojo, so it’s pretty long now that we’re mid-season. “What’s the holdup?”

“Austin’s hiding something from us,” Hayden explains.

I groan.

“Hiding what?” Fletch crosses his arms, which looks pretty funny since he’s still wearing his glove.

“Valuable information for why he’s got a stick up his butt.”

Fletch raises an eyebrow. “Is it the same reason he’s hitting my slider?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Hayden says.