First Base Zombie

Marcus's palms were sweating through his baseball glove as he stood at first base, watching Jessica walk toward him. She looked devastating in her cutoffs and zombie face paint, her hair falling in these perfect waves that made his stomach do backflips.

"You got this, bro," Tyler whispered from the dugout, but Marcus felt like his brain was operating on zombie mode—three hours of sleep will do that to you.

His dog Buster had spent the previous night barking at some fox that kept skulking around their backyard. Now Buster was passed out on the couch, probably dreaming about catching the thing, while Marcus was here trying to catch Jessica's attention without looking like a total clown.

She stopped right in front of him, tapping her bat against his shoe.

"So," she said, "I hear your dog's a better hunter than you are at baseball. That's actually kind of epic."

Marcus blinked. "You heard about the fox?"

"Your mom posted about it on Facebook. The whole neighborhood knows." She grinned, and it was this crooked, genuine thing that made him forget to be nervous. "My golden retriever once ate my homework. Literally. Teacher made me bring in the shredded remains as proof."

"No way."

"Way." She held out her hand, her palm firm against his. "I'm Jessica, by the way. We should compare embarrassing pet stories sometime."

The fox by the woods chattered as if in approval. Marcus was pretty sure, despite the sweat and the sleep deprivation and his dog being internet famous for all the wrong reasons, that things were about to get way more interesting.