Page 65 of Hiding in the Outfield

Winters

And Stone has old man vibes. Got it.

Barnes

Stone

I hate you all.

Me

Grandpa’s grumpy today.

*Stone leaves chat*

*Stone is added back to chat*

Michaels

Nice try, babe.

I bite my lip against my smile and tuck my phone into my pocket. I need to get my quick workout in before I get so lost in this chat I miss my chance.

I take a seat on the bus and pop my headphones in. I’m one of the first ones here since I worked out beforehand. The new guy, Trent, ended up joining halfway through, so I’m sure he’ll be here soon. The guy was lifting waaay too heavy for mid-season. He’s going to kill his game—or worse, end up injured.

Someone comes crashing into the seat next to me, and I jolt. And blink at a face that’s practically all blinding teeth. I pull off my headphones.

“Hey, Olliebear,” Michaels says.

“Hi…” I cock my head. “Olliebear?”

He scoffs. “Um, it’s your nickname, bro. Obviously. You’re a fucking bear. And you’re Olander. Olander plus bear. Olliebear. It’s not nuclear physics.”

I don’t think that’s the phrase…

“He’s right,” Winters says, sliding into the seat in front of us.

Nebs is quick to follow. He glances at me and doesn’t say anything. I think I’m safe from him killing me, but he still doesn’t like me.

“Yo! Trent!” Michaels hollers as Trent shuffles onto the bus with his head down. “Grab the seat behind us!”

He looks up, cheeks already going red, and nods stiffly, then hurries to the seat. The poor kid. He’s prone to blushing and perpetually nervous. He’s a hell of a third baseman, though. A thousand times better than Dev was, which explains how he jumped from Single-A to Triple-A in one giant leap.

I turn back to Michaels. “You’ve never called me that before. We’ve been on the same team for months now.”

He shrugs. “You were an asshole then. I like you now. So you’ve earned a fun nickname.”

Like it’s that simple.

“What’s this about a fun nickname?” O’Neil says from the seat across from us. “Also, where the fuck you been, Olander? Haven’t seen you in our suite all week.”

“You know what that means,” Slater says, leaning over from behind O’Neil. “Someone’s found himself a sidepiece.”

“Dude. No one says sidepiece anymore,” Michaels says. “What are you, geriatric?”

I choke on my laugh, and all I can think about is our group chat.

But also… Shit. I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t even thought about how it’d look to my roommates that I just…disappeared. Fuck. This is why I’ve avoided this for so long. There are so many things you have to be aware of, so many places to cover your tracks.