15. Cj
CJ
In the two weeks following Evan’s drunken confession, CJ became very aware of how good Evan could be at disappearing.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. Evan had always been disciplined to the point of obsession, and once he made up his mind that something wasn’t happening, he would structure his entire life around that decision.
Apparently, CJ now fell into that category.
If you understood the rhythm of the clubhouse, it was easy to avoid someone.
On practice days, players moved through the building in patterns: early arrivals drifted to the cage, pitchers claimed the training room, and position players filtered out to the field in loose waves.
On game days, everyone had their position-specific drills to run, so interactions happened mainly in the clubhouse.
It was pretty easy for CJ to spot the changes.
If CJ walked into the weight room, Evan suddenly remembered something he needed from the trainers.
If CJ made his way toward the batting cage, Evan finished his round early and handed his practice bat to the equipment manager.
When team meetings ended and players spilled into the hallway in loose groups, there were always a few seconds when CJ thought they might wind up walking out near each other, but they never did.
Evan always magically had something he needed to discuss with one of the coaches, just long enough that it looked weird for CJ to hang around and wait.
For the first few days, CJ thought it was coincidence.
By day four, he knew it wasn’t.
By the eleventh day, CJ was almost impressed.
There were opportunities for them to talk, moments CJ could have used to check in, but Evan refused to take them.
He wasn’t rude about it. He never ignored him outright, and if they crossed paths on the field, Evan nodded like CJ was any other teammate.
During drills he was professional and focused, the way he’d always been.
But every time a moment appeared where they might end up alone, Evan slipped sideways out of it.
Which was exactly why CJ was standing outside the stadium after a game.
Waiting.
The night air was warm and carried a hint of exhaust from traffic on I-5, and the parking lot lights cast long shadows across the asphalt.
CJ leaned against the waist-high barrier near the players’ exit and watched the door.
Ten minutes passed, then the door opened.
Evan stepped out and stopped so abruptly it almost looked like he’d run into an invisible wall.
It would have been comical in any other scenario.
For half a second, neither of them moved.
Evan exhaled slowly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Hey.”
CJ pushed off the barrier and shoved his hands in his pockets before he moved to stand in front of Evan. Evan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the empty lot and CJ standing squarely between him and his quiet exit.
“You waited out here,” Evan said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
“You planned this.”
CJ shrugged. “You’re hard to pin down.”
Evan let out a short laugh that held absolutely no amusement. “And your solution was to stage an ambush?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” CJ wasn’t as sure about that anymore.
Evan shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “You could’ve just texted.”
CJ arched a brow. “Would you have answered?” Evan’s mouth pressed into a line, which was answer enough, and CJ folded his arms. “We need to talk.”
Evan shook his head immediately. “No.”
CJ blinked. “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Evan.”
“CJ.”
Evan stepped to the side like he intended to walk past him, and CJ moved half a step in the same direction. Not aggressively, but enough to block the path. Evan stopped again and shook his head as he lifted his eyes.
“Are you serious right now?”
“You’re not leaving,” CJ said.
Evan’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? You planning to stop me?”
CJ set his jaw and held Evan’s gaze but didn’t say anything.
He was being stubborn in a way that would look ridiculous from the outside but felt completely necessary right now.
Evan shifted his bag again and tilted his head, and it was clear he was contemplating whether to test CJ’s resolve by simply walking past him anyway.
“Unbelievable.” Evan gripped the back of his neck and rolled his eyes. “You’ve had two weeks,” he said. “Whatever you needed to say could’ve been said already.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Evan smirked. “Observant.”
“That’s not a denial.”
“It’s not meant to be.” Evan shrugged.
CJ stepped a little closer. “Why?”
Evan looked at him like the answer should be obvious. “There’s nothing to talk about. You made your feelings clear.”
“Did I?” CJ frowned. “Because nothing has been clear for me at all.”
Evan looked past him toward the parking lot, and when he looked back, CJ could see the resignation on his face. “What do you want from me?”
“An actual conversation.”
Evan frowned. “We had one.”
“That wasn’t a conversation,” CJ said. “That was you, drunk on your couch, throwing emotional bombs at me and then trying to kiss me.”
Evan flushed and his shoulders tensed. “I said what I needed to say.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” CJ said. “And you did it while you were drunk.”
Evan’s mouth tightened. “I think we’ve covered that.”
“I don’t think we have.”
“You made it pretty obvious how you felt about everything I said.” Evan’s gaze flicked back to him, and CJ could see the irritation sparking in his eyes.
“That was humiliating enough, and I’m not going to keep throwing myself at someone who’s already made it clear he doesn’t want me.
So what exactly do you think there’s left to say, CJ? ”
CJ blew out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair, pushing the brim of his baseball cap up as his fingers slid through the straight light-brown strands underneath.
He turned the cap backward and settled it into place, the bill tapping lightly against the back of his neck.
This was harder than he’d expected. Evan’s walls were firmly back in place, and the man standing in front of him barely resembled the one who’d sagged against CJ’s shoulder two weeks ago with his voice breaking.
“You think I turned you down,” CJ said quietly.
Evan didn’t answer right away, but then he nodded once. “You did.”
“No,” CJ said immediately. “I didn’t.”
Evan’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “Pretty sure I remember the word no being involved.”
CJ stepped closer, closing the last few feet between them until Evan had to tilt his head slightly to keep eye contact. He spoke quietly. “You showed up outside my door drunk enough that you almost face-planted into the wall. You could barely walk straight.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“I never said you didn’t,” CJ replied calmly. “But it does mean you couldn’t actually consent to anything.”
The anger in Evan’s posture faltered slightly, and CJ knew he was finally listening.
“I wasn’t going to kiss you like that,” CJ continued. “Not when you’d been drinking and pouring your heart out and could barely stand up.”
Evan looked at him carefully now. “That’s why you said no?”
“Yes.”
The silence that followed stretched longer, and Evan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s…not how I interpreted that night.”
CJ huffed quietly. “Yeah. I figured that out.”
Evan’s brows drew together slightly and his gaze drifted just past CJ’s shoulder for a second like he was staring at something only he could see. The muscles in his jaw worked once as he exhaled slowly, and CJ could almost hear the gears turning. The familiarity of it hit CJ all at once.
Evan had always done this. Back in college, whenever something big landed in front of him, he never reacted right away.
He’d go quiet instead, retreating into his own head while he worked through it piece by piece.
CJ used to tease him about it, calling it Evan’s “internal replay booth” because he processed conversations the same way he studied game film: rewind, analyze, adjust.
CJ had learned early on that interrupting that process was useless.
So he waited, watching the familiar rhythm of it play out and anticipating the slow shift that would come as Evan worked his way toward whatever conclusion he was going to land on.
Seven years hadn’t changed that part of him at all, and CJ hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that until this moment.
Evan’s gaze sharpened again as he came back to the present, the distant look fading as everything clicked into place. When he spoke, his voice was quieter. “So you didn’t say no because you didn’t want me.”
CJ held his gaze. “No.”
Evan searched his face, eyes narrowed like he wasn’t sure he believed the answer. “You said no because I was drunk.”
“Yes.”
Evan’s shoulders dropped a fraction as he exhaled. “Okay,” he said, almost to himself.
CJ tipped his head. “Okay?”
Evan huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Okay.” He dragged a hand through his hair and his attention dropped briefly to the ground before lifting back to CJ. “I thought you were shutting me down.”
“I was stopping you,” CJ said. “There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” Evan’s mouth arched upward in a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He rocked back slightly on his heels and studied CJ again. “And if I hadn’t been drunk?”
CJ felt his pulse pick up and something that felt dangerously close to hope flared in his chest. “Then we wouldn’t be standing in a parking lot having this conversation,” he said.
Evan’s gaze flicked to his mouth for half a second before snapping back up. “Where would we be?”
“Somewhere a lot less public.” The words came out steadier than he felt.
CJ was suddenly too aware of how close they were standing.
He remembered how quickly something belonging just to them could turn into something exposed.
More than that, he was aware of himself, and of how badly he wanted to close the small gap still between them.
That hadn’t changed, not even after seven years of distance and silence.
He dragged in a breath to ground himself.
“Somewhere,” he added, a little quieter, “that we don’t have to think about who’s watching.” Where he didn’t have to think about what it could cost, and he could just want Evan without immediately calculating the fallout.
Evan stared at him, and CJ could see the surprise on his face. But he swallowed hard, then nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
CJ felt something slot into place inside him, and he inhaled deeply.
He hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t considered what he would do past refusing to let Evan walk away again.
But now Evan was standing in front of him, agreeing to go somewhere private, and CJ was suddenly very aware that he’d just started something he wasn’t sure he knew how to stop.
“Come back to my place,” he said, spitting the words out before he could second-guess them. “We can…talk. Actually talk.”
Evan didn’t answer right away. He just stared at him like he was waiting for CJ to backtrack or laugh it off. Like he was waiting for CJ to say “never mind.” For one terrifying second, CJ thought Evan might be the one to change his mind.
Then Evan nodded again, slower this time. “Okay.” Evan shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and jerked his head toward the lot. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah, I— Yeah. Sure,” CJ stammered because apparently talking had become a liability.
Evan’s mouth twitched, a hint of something that could have been a smile, before he turned and headed for his SUV. CJ stood there staring at the spot where Evan had been standing. He needed a moment for his brain to catch up to what his mouth had just committed him to.
“Shit,” he muttered.
He turned and walked to his own truck, threw his bag into the passenger seat, and tried to ignore how badly his hands were shaking as he started the car.
The engine turned over, and CJ gripped the steering wheel like it might steady him.
It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. He could feel his pulse thumping in the hollow of his throat and his thoughts were racing too fast to catch.
“You invited him over,” he said aloud. The words sounded surreal in the quiet cab and he shook his head in disbelief. “You actually invited him over.”
He pulled out of the lot on instinct, barely registering the turns as newly formed muscle memory took over. A flash of light drew his eyes to the rearview mirror, but he couldn’t tell if it was Evan’s car behind him.
CJ blew out a long breath on a whistle. “It’s fine. It’s totally normal for him to be following you home. You live in the same building. This is a normal thing that happens.”
He was just going to ignore the fact that Evan had never followed him home before, and something about him doing it now made this serious. More serious.
“What are you doing?” he asked himself. His grip tightened on the wheel and he flexed his fingers once.
“Okay,” CJ said, forcing his voice into something steadier. “Okay, this is fine. You’re fine.”
He was not fine.
“You’re going to talk,” he continued, like he was laying out a strategy before a game. “That’s it. Just talk. Like a normal person. No spiraling. No saying anything you can’t take back.”
He paused.
“No kissing.”
Another beat.
“…probably.”