Chapter 14
The tappingon my door pulled me from a deep sleep. As I blinked and became aware of the morning light streaming through my window. I could hear Boston’s voice from outside my room.
“Hey, you up?” he called out, tapping his knuckles against the wooden surface again.
“Coming,” my voice was groggy from sleep as I dragged myself out of bed, shuffling to the door in my pajamas.
I opened the door, revealing him in a white fitted t-shirt and shorts. His hair appeared slightly disheveled as if he had just woken up.
“Hey, Boston... What’s up?” I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “It’s early.”
“We need to talk,” he said, with a steady voice. “About Reese.”
“Reese?” I frowned, clearly confused. “What about him?”
Boston’s jaw tightened for a moment before he spoke. “I saw you last night when we were leaving the restaurant across the street from the lake. You were with Reese.”
His tone was casual, but his stance told another story. It felt like there was a silent accusation that lingered in his tone. Maybe he was being protective—but there was also something else, some sort of tension that hadn’t been there before.
“Okay…and?” I asked, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into my voice. My heart thumped erratically, knowing full well that Reese was the one person he had a problem with, maybe even hated.
“Why did you get in his truck, Chandler?”
“Why do you care, Boston?” I shot back, not sure why my defensive walls were rising up but feeling them there all the same.
Boston’s blue eyes turned steely, and he let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t,” he said, his tone clipped. “I just can’t understand why you’d waste your time with that arrogant prick.”
His words stung, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of his jab at Reese or that it felt like he was still holding something back. “Why do you care who I spend my time with?”
Boston shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw flexed for a moment before he relaxed it. “I don’t. You can do what you want.”
“Is there something else you want to say, Boston?” I crossed my arms over my chest, demanding honesty.
“I just... I don’t trust him,” he admitted. “You know what kind of guy he is. And I’m just looking out for you.”
“Since when do you get to decide who I spend my time with?” I retorted, my voice edged with irritation. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair in what seemed like frustration. “I just want you to be careful.”
He never cared before who I spent my time with. Back at home, he never paid attention to what I did. He was always preoccupied—surrounded by his friends, by stunning girls, and all of a sudden now he cared?
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” I said softly as I looked away. “Maybe he’s just misunderstood.”
“Uh-huh,” he breathed. “I’m sure that’s all it is.”
“Look,” I sighed, meeting his gaze once more. “I appreciate that you care, but trust me, I got this. Okay?”
“Alright,” he nodded reluctantly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” I said, offering a small smile. “Now, can I go back to sleep?”
“Sure,” Boston conceded for now, pushing off from the door frame with a shrug. “I’ll see you later.”
As he turned to leave, I leaned against the door, wondering what that was about and if there was more to it than just Boston looking out for me.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and my heart leaped as Kristina’s smiling face popped up on the screen with an incoming FaceTime call. Without hesitation, I swiped to answer, already bubbling with anticipation.
“Finally!” I exclaimed, unable to keep the giddiness from my voice.
“Chandler! I don’t have long.” Kristina’s voice rushed out, breathless as she was walking quickly. “But it’s been incredible here. Like a dream. And don’t you worry, I’ve been taking notes, so I can bring you back all my new acting tips!”
“Tell me everything going on with you,” she beamed, her eyes sparkling with that same infectious energy I always knew. “Any new cute boys?”
“Where do I even start?” I laughed, knowing there wouldn’t be enough time to explain. “There’s been so much happening. And... yes, but it’s complicated.”
“Wait, you mean a cute boy besides Boston?” Kristina teased, a knowing glint dancing in her eyes.
“Surprisingly, yes.” I could feel my cheeks warm as she was putting me on the spot.
“Ooh, do tell,” Kristina prodded, but before I could delve into the details, her expression shifted to one of mild regret.
“Shoot, I’ve got to get back to it, Chan. But we’ll catch up properly soon, promise,” she said, her words tinged with the faintest hint of longing.
“Fine, but I’m holding you to that,” I tilted my head, giving her a serious look, wishing we had more time.
“Aw, I really miss you,” Kristina sighed, her sentiment echoing through the miles that stretched between us.
“Miss you more.” I sighed. Her words were like a breath of fresh air, and hearing from her always made my day brighter.
Later that evening, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the baseball field as Boston gripped the bat tightly in his hands. My parents sat in the stands next to me eagerly watching.
“Strike!” The umpire’s voice cut through the haze like a knife, and I realized he just missed the first pitch.
“Come on, bro, you got this,” Parker called out encouragingly from the dugout as he readied himself for the next pitch.
The ball soared through the air, and he swung. The satisfying crack of the bat connected with the ball and I was relieved for a moment until I watched it fly straight into the left fielder’s glove.
“Shit.” I sighed as I watched him walk back toward the dugout, looking pissed at his performance.
I spotted Reese in the dugout, propped against the fence with a smirk on his face, and Boston heading straight toward him.
“What the hell is your problem?” Boston shouted, throwing off his helmet and tossing his bat aside.
“My problem? Nah. I think you’re the one with the problem.” Reese jeered. “I think you can’t handle the pressure that comes with being on this team. You should probably save yourself the embarrassment and quit.”
“Shut up, Reese,” Boston growled, stepping closer to him. His fist was clenched, as if resisting the urge to punch him in the face.
“Or what?” Reese shot back, shoving Boston forcefully in the chest. Boston’s restraint snapped, and he shoved him back even harder.
Parker, and two of their teammates, Bailey and Crew, rushed in, pulling Reese and Boston away from each other before it could escalate further, but they were both still trying to push through to get to each other.
“Enough!” Coach Levy roared, storming over to them with a furious expression. His dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as he stood between them. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you two, but if you ever bring it to the field again, I’ll replace you both without a second thought! Understood?”
“Understood,” Boston responded, avoiding his piercing glare. Reese stayed silent, his jaw clenched, and his eyes still locked onto Boston’s.
“Good,” Coach Levy nodded with a stern expression. “Now get the hell out of my sight. You’re both done.”
I watched from the bleachers, my heart raced as Boston and Reese were thrown out of the game. Boston’s usually happy-go-lucky face was tight with frustration. His piercing blue eyes were now stormy. Reese just smirked and tossed the ball up in the air, catching it with carefree ease.
“What just happened?” Dad’s voice was rough with disbelief as he rose to his feet, every line of his body rigid with frustration.
“Not again,” Mom added, her lips pressed into a thin line. She always had a way of saying so much with so little. Her disappointment was obvious.
I watched them navigate their way through the sea of legs, making a beeline toward Boston.
The scene that unfolded before me tore open a memory, the one I knew Mom had remembered as well. Boston was up to bat while Reese was pitching on the other team a few summers back.
“Strike him out, Reese!” someone had shouted from the dugout, their words slicing through the humid summer air.
“Come on, Boston, show him what you’ve got!” my dad called out, but his encouragement was drowned in the jeers from the other team.
Reese wound up, and with a swift motion, he sent the ball spinning towards home plate. Boston swung with all he had, but the crack of the bat never came—only the slap of the ball hitting the catcher’s mitt. Strike three. Boston’s shoulders slumped as he turned away from the plate.
Reese and a couple of his teammates heckled Boston, laughing and saying remarks I couldn’t quite hear from where I was sitting.
After the game, Parker and Boston were gathering their things and several players, including Reese, approached them from the other team.
“Watch where you’re going,” one of them said to Boston.
Boston clenched his fists. “You need to get out of my face.”
“Or what?” Reese took a threatening step toward him. “You gonna do something about it?”
That was it. Boston launched himself at Reese, taking him to the ground. They went at it, rolling in the dirt. Parker and the rest of their teammates quickly jumped in. Soon it was an all-out brawl between both teams.
Fists flew as both sides exchanged blows. Coaches and parents rushed over to break up the chaos. When they were finally separated, Boston stood breathing hard, his uniform covered in dust and dirt. Reese glared at him, his nose was bleeding.
“This isn’t over,” he spat as he was pulled away.
They were rivals on the baseball field from that moment forward.
Watching them now, both being forced to leave the game, brought those old emotions bubbling up to the surface. It was more than just a game for them—it became a competition and a rivalry that had only grown fiercer with time.