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in this dugout. The best baseball conversation we ever had.”
    I lean forward and clasp my hands together.
    “Maybe you missed part of the conversation, because I wasn’t explaining baseball.”
    Gwen flashes her bright smile. “I know, but I still enjoyed the demonstration.”
    Our eyes meet for a moment and I glance
    away when heat crawls along my cheeks.
    Gwen’s the only girl I’ve had any real
    experience with. She used to blush when she talked about anything sexual, but she doesn’t today. Nausea rolls through my gut. What new bases has Mike taught her?
    “You seemed out of it during the game.” The material of her dress swishes as she crosses her legs and angles her body toward mine. Our thighs touch now, creating heat. I wonder if she notices. “Are you having problems with your dad again?”
    Gwen and I spent countless afternoons and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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    evenings in this dugout. She always knew
    when Dad pushed me too far with the refs or that if I played like crap, I’d come here for clarity. “No.”
    “Then what’s wrong?”
    Everything. Mom and Dad fighting. Mark’s
    absence. Me and pro ball. My friends/not-
    friends relationship with Gwen. For a moment, I think about telling her about Mark. Like the rest of the town, she remains blissfully
    unaware. I stare into her eyes and search for the girl I first met my freshman year. She wouldn’t have messed with me then.
    Unfortunately, I’ve since become her favorite pastime. “I’m not in the mood to be played, Gwen.”
    Gwen raises her hand and twirls her hair
    around her finger. The glint of a large red-stoned ring strikes me like an ice pick. I shift so that our thighs no longer touch. “Mike gave you his class ring.”
    She drops her hand and covers it with the other, as if hiding the ring will make me forget it’s there. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “Last night.”
    “Congratulations.” If I could have let more HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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    anger seep out I would have.
    “What was I supposed to do?”
    “I don’t know.” My voice rises with each
    word. “For starters, not be here screwing with me.”
    She ignores my comment as her own voice
    hardens. “Mike’s a good guy and he’s always around. He’s not gone all the time and doesn’t have a thousand commitments like you.”
    In all of our breaks and breakups, we never fought. Never raised our voices at each other.
    Before, I never considered yelling at Gwen; now it’s the only thing I want to do. “I told you that I loved you. What else could you want?”
    “To be first. Baseball always came first with you. God! How much clearer a picture did you need? I broke up with you at the beginning of your seasons.”
    I stand up, unable to sit next to her. How much clearer a picture? Obviously I needed detailed drawings with written directions. “You could have told me that’s how you felt.”
    “Would it have changed anything? Would
    you have given up baseball?”
    I curl my fingers into the metal of the fence and stare out at the field. How could she ask HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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    that type of question? Why would any girl ask a guy to give up something he loves?
    Gwen’s playing games right now and I’ve
    decided to throw the pitch that ends the inning.
    “No.”
    I hear her sharp intake of air and the guilt of hurting her punches me in the stomach.
    “It’s just baseball,” she rushes out.
    How can I make her understand? Beyond the fence is a raised mound, a trail of dirt leading to four bases all surrounded by a groomed green field. It’s the only place where I’ve felt like I belonged.
    “Baseball isn’t just a game. It’s the smell of popcorn drifting in the air, the sight of bugs buzzing near the stadium lights, the roughness of the dirt beneath your cleats. It’s the anticipation building in your chest as the anthem plays, the adrenaline rush when your bat cracks against the ball, and the surge of blood when the umpire shouts strike after you pitch. It’s a team full of