The Dugout(18)

So, I went to go apologize—for the third time, I think—but every time I opened my mouth to say something, she stopped me . . . then literally stopped me. Plugged me up so fast I had no idea what to do but stand there, hands at my side, cookie hanging out of my mouth. Well, it would have been extremely rude to spit it back out, wouldn’t it? I mean, I was taught good manners and all that.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more shocked in my life. It wasn’t a pie to the face, or a slap to the cheek. It was a straight-up cookie to the mouth, a salute, and then a peace out. An absolute first for me.

Probably for her too, judging the look of surprise on her face.

When I got back to the table, Jason and Gunner wouldn’t stop laughing and pretending to shove cookies in each other’s mouths. I went back to the baseball loft shortly after that, and when I was lying in my bed, in the dark, staring at nothing, I let out a long, pent-up laugh.

What the fuck was that?

I laughed for a good five minutes while replaying the entire interaction in my head and then proceeded to text Holt and Knox, who immediately made a three-way call to hear every last detail.

It felt good, talking to my boys, despite being ragged on mercifully. I miss them. I was recruited with them, went through freshman hell with them, and grew as ballplayers with them. We were all supposed to be drafted together. God, that would have been fucking awesome . . .

Yeah, Jason, Romeo, and Gunner are cool, but my friendship with them has nothing on the bond I share with Knox and Holt. There’s something about sharing a trashcan and throwing up together during freshman conditioning that really solidifies a bond between men.

Jason takes a seat next to me and sticks his hand in the bag, pulling out a cookie for himself. “Could have been way worse last night.” He takes a bite and then eyes the cookie. “She could have shoved the dining hall’s attempt at meatloaf in your mouth.”

“Hey, I like Lakeview’s meatloaf,” Gunner says, sitting on the other side of me and taking a cookie as well. “They have that special sauce they put on top.”

“It’s called ketchup,” Jason says, mid chew.

“Still good.”

Romeo pulls up a chair across from me and snags a cookie as well. Pretty sure they put the cookies in my locker for themselves.

“Did Coach change his mind about you starting?” Romeo asks, right before he shoves the entire cookie in his mouth.

Impressive.

I shake my head. “Nah, still keeping the bench warm.”

“Christ.” Gunner drags his hand over his face. “Badcock is fucking terrible at second, so what kind of stunt is Coach trying to pull?”

“He’s trying to drive me fucking insane.” I finish my cookie and lean back against my locker. “I’m just hoping the work I’ve been putting in this week pays off in case he decides to stick me in the game in the late innings.”

“He’ll grow desperate after Badcock punts another grounder off his shin. How did he even get recruited in the first place?” Gunner asks.

Romeo grabs my water bottle and without asking, downs half of it. “He had pretty good stats before coming here, but you know Coach; he sees the potential and morphs us into what he’s looking for in a player. Junior year, Badcock will be ready.”

It’s true, despite how much I hate the kid, he’ll grow under Coach Disik’s tutelage. We all have.

“So, what’s the story behind the cookie monster?” Romeo asks.

“Her name is Milly,” I say, not wanting the nickname “cookie monster” to become a thing. “She’s a trainer in the weight room, but I actually met her in the dining hall, in the panini line.”

“Ahh, panini love.” Gunner clutches his heart.

“More like panini hate. The girl despises me and it’s because I’ve made the worst impression on her.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Jason says. “Are you interested in this girl, Stone?”

“What? No. I mean . . . she’s pretty, yeah, but I’m not interested in anyone at this point. I don’t have time to focus on anything else but my bat and getting that working again.”

“So why do you care about making a good impression?” Gunner asks.

“Uh, I don’t know, to be a decent human? Despite last year and my shitty attitude, deep down I’m not a dick. We had some weird interactions. I might have insulted her in the weight room and I wanted to apologize. That’s why I went over to see her in the dining hall, to make sure she was okay.”

“From her reaction, I’m going to say she’s not.”

“I’m still trying to figure that one out.” I scratch the back of my head. “She said everything and I quote ‘is on the up and up.’ But anytime I actually tried to apologize, she cut me off. It was really odd. The guys with her didn’t have much to say to explain her reaction, so who fucking knows.”

“Hey, at least you got some cookies out if it,” Romeo says, plucking another cookie from the package and shoving it in his mouth.

Yeah, free cookies. I’m one hell of a lucky guy.





My entire body feels like it’s on fire as I itch to step out on the field.

We are down by three runs, Badcock has made three errors at second, and I swear to God every time he fumbles a ball, I feel Coach Disik staring me down, as if to mentally tell me this is all my fault.