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I crack my knuckles as my eyes skim over my teammates in the dugout. Each of us in our own worlds, preparing for when it's our turn at bat.

"Schafer!" Coach Roman waves me over, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pointing towards the field.

"Bottom of the ninth, with only one base. Just focus on the ball. Let's not let them come to our field and win." He hands the bat, the metal cool in my hands as I adjust my grip.

I have been playing baseball since I can remember. The pep talk isn't needed, but I understand that it is coaches job.

My eyes inadvertently travel to the stands, a faceless sea of red and grey; North Vale highs school colors.

These people came to support us tonight, the least I can do is give them something exciting to cheer for.

I watch the pitcher with narrowed eyes, as I take my stance. I point my bat for outfield, trying to hide my smirk as the crowd cheers for my cocky display.

My eyes catch on Mikey as he inches himself away from his base, itching to steal third.

Just hold on, I'll get us home. 

The pitcher nods and takes his stance, and I hold my breath as my bat swings. My heart pounds when I hear that satisfying ping  of the ball hitting the bat.

Silence. I can't hear anything over the rushing of blood in my ears. My eyes zeroing in on the bases as I drop the bat and run.

I notice Mikey rounding off third heading home and yet the ball is still somewhere in the outfield. The other team scrabbling to get into position to stop one of us when the ball comes back.

The sound of celebrations breaks into my thoughts. Mikey must have crossed home as I just touched down on third.

My feet slide in between two bases, as the pitcher catches the ball. A sly smirk crosses his face. He knows as well as I that we are in a catch twenty two.

I know it would selfish to want to show off, but I want a home run. I don't want to stay on third. If I push it, I could get out. But if I don't I am stuck on third until the next batter.

Hendricks.  That's the next batter and he is not a power hitter. He is predictable in his hits.

My eyes meet the pitchers, a direct challenge at him to make a choice; trap me on third or try to stop me on my way home.

It's all about timing.

His eyes fall to the third baseman and I hold back the smile. He is trying to get me out and he will be disappointed in the outcome.

His arm winds up the throw, and when it is too late to stop it, I take off towards home.

My heart pounds against my rib cage as I run, home plate getting closer and closer with each second.

My cleat taps home base, and a millisecond later, the catcher holds the ball in his glove.

I don't hear the umpires call over the sound of the roar of the crowd. His hands move frantically in front of him indicating safe.

I am pulled into some hugs the second I am near the dugout, but there are so many of them, I don't know which hug belongs to who. All I register is hands.

So many hands; smacking my back, grabbing my shoulders, rubbing my hair. It's almost overwhelming the amount of touching we do in celebration.

"Party at my place!" Caleb yells as we enter the locker rooms to change.

I roll my eyes at the cliche that is high school. Win a big game have a party. It's like the two cannot exist with out the other.

It's always the same. Drinking, puking and hookups that people will regret the next day. I think I am the only one who doesn't drink at these parties, but for good reasons.

Drunk men tell no tales.

Someone told me that before I started going to parties and I never forgot it.

I didn't understand it until I saw Chase Underwood get drunk and embarrassingly confess his undying love to Alyssa Carmichael.

I have my secrets and I want to keep them hidden.

"Yo, B! Can you designate?" I hear Gunner call from his locker a row over, his voice echoing around the cement room.

"No" I laugh, drying my hair with my towel before tossing it into my gym bag.

I hear a groan followed by burst of laughter. I shudder at the thought of what Gunner is up to.

"Brandon" an overly sweet voice calls from behind me.

I am afraid to turn around. The laughter ringing around us doesn't help my worry. Gunner may be my best friend, but I don't put anything past him.

Slowly I turn to face Gunner, my eyes wide in surprise and laughter choking in my throat.

  Gunner stands behind me with his towel wrapped around his body like a dress. Another towel wrapped around his head and he twirls the piece around his finger as if it were hair.

He cocks his hip to the side, causing the towel to ride up, showing the bottom of his blue boxer briefs.

"But B, I'll do anything to get a ride.... in your car." his exaggeratedly high voice nearly has him laughing.

"Puppy eyes, really Gunner?" I ask, throwing the rest of my stuff in my gym bag and slinging it over my shoulder. 

 I slam my locker close with a long sigh, turning to look at the big brown puppy eye version of Gunner.

"Fine. But if you try to have sex in the back of my car again-"

"Alright. Alright. No back seat banging." He rips the towel off his body and tosses it at me, walking away back to his locker.

I shake my head, tossing the towel over the locker to him.

Do we choose our best friends or do they somehow just fall into the role? Why would I have chosen Gunner? We are so different, like night and day. But maybe that's why we work.

"I'll be at the car. Hurry up or I leave you!" I shout, pushing through the big double doors.

Spring is the best. Not hot, not cold. Just throw on a long sleeve shirt and you'll be good.

"Brandon." My eyes scan the parking lot for the voice that called my name.

"Hey Cara." I say as she bounces over to me, her hazel eyes wide with excitement.

Her brown hair is pulled high into a ponytail and I watch as she tries to discreetly unzip her thin jacket. Her full chest nearly spilling out of her low cut shirt.

"Are you going to Caleb's party?" She bites the corner of her lip, looking up at me from under her heavily mascaraed eye lashes. 

I can't deny that she is pretty with her heart shaped face and curvy figure. No doubt there are at least a dozen guys at this school who would want to be with her.

So why she is trying to get with me, when I have shown her no romantic intentions, I don't know.

"Yeah, just waiting on Gun." I say, tossing my thumb over my shoulder to where the locker rooms are.

Her eyes follow the movement of my arm. A slow smirk crossing her face as she adjusts her body position.

I didn't think it was possible, but her chest is even closer to spilling out of her top. Seriously, what is holding it it?!

"Cara" Gunner rolls the 'r' of her name, as he slings his arm over my shoulder.

It's impossible to miss the way his eyes move down her face and lands on her chest. Lust evident in his eyes, like she is a bag of his favorite candy.

"Hey." she says quickly before turning her gaze back to me.

"I'll see you later, Brandon." Her hand skims my arm as she walks past us towards her car.

Gunner follows his gaze as I toss my gym bag into the back of my Jeep.

"Damn, B. Please tell me you're going to tap that tonight?" He says, throwing his bag next to mine and slamming the door closed.

Tap that. He says it so casually as if it is nothing. As if I couldn't possibly not be attracted to her.

He doesn't know that I'm not. That Cara is as far from what I am attracted to as a pine cone.

"Nah man. I'm good." I turn the ignition, bucking my seat belt before pulling out of the parking lot.

I can see Gunner roll his eyes in my peripherals. His whole head shakes like I just told him that the earth was actually flat and he was ready to argue.

"When was the last time you got laid, B?" he practically shouts as he slap my shoulder with the back of his hand.

Never.  But not for the reason he's thinking and I am not ready to tell him that.

"C'mon dude. Cara is like super  hot! and if you don't think so then you must be gay." He laughs at his joke, not knowing that my heart just stopped.

My foot slams a little to hard on the breaks at the stop sign  and the car lurches forward, sending us into our seat belts.

Gunner laughter picks up as he slaps my shoulder again.

"Dude, chill. It was a joke." Deep down, I know that he is kidding, but he has never said that before.

I manage a little laugh, as I shove him back. All normal things I would do with Gunner, but I am feeling anything but normal right now.

<3 <3 <3 <3

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