Hat Trick

The crown of my backward baseball cap was basically cutting off circulation to my brain, but no way was I taking it off. Jake's dad had dropped us off at the stadium twenty minutes ago, and I'd been sweating through my jersey ever since.

"Dude, you good?" Jake asked, handing me a lukewarm soda. "You look like you're about to puke."

"I'm chill," I lied, wiping my palm on my jeans for the hundredth time. "Just got a lot on my mind, you know?"

Jake nodded like he understood, which was exactly why he was my best friend. He didn't push, just turned back to the game where some bull of a batter was absolutely crushing pitches into the stratosphere. The crowd went nuts every time, but I couldn't focus.

Because Rachel was three rows down.

She was sitting with her friends, laughing at something, her hair catching the afternoon sun. I'd been crushing on her since seventh grade, and somehow we'd ended up at the same game. This was my chance. Maybe. If I didn't make it weird. If I could actually form complete sentences.

"So," Jake said, suddenly way too interested in his phone. "You gonna say hey, or...?"

"Bro, what? No. I can't just—"

Then Rachel turned around. Our eyes locked. My heart straight-up stopped.

"Leo?" She called, smiling. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," I managed, standing up way too fast. My hat almost fell off. "What's up?"

"Come sit with us!" she yelled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I looked at Jake. He shooed me away with both hands. "Go, man. I'll survive."

So I went. And as Rachel scooted over to make room, patting the empty seat beside her, I realized something: sometimes the scariest moments are the ones that change everything. And that backward baseball cap? Yeah, maybe it was staying on after all.