Stolen Bases and Papaya Dreams

Marcus adjusted his baseball cap, pulling the brim low over his eyes. He wasn't here to buy groceries. He was here on a mission — to spy on Chloe, the girl from AP Bio who sat three rows ahead of him and somehow made taking notes look like an art form. She was at the grocery store every Thursday at 4:15 PM, and Marcus had "accidentally" run into her twice already this month.

Okay, fine. Three times. But who's counting?

Today he'd strategically positioned himself behind a display of organic granola, which gave him a perfect view of the produce section. Chloe was examining something yellow and oblong with intense fascination. A papaya. Since when did high schoolers buy papayas? Marcus's entire fruit experience consisted of apples, bananas, and whatever his mom threw into his lunchbox without warning.

"You gonna stare all day or actually help?" a voice cracked behind him.

Marcus jumped, knocking over three boxes of gluten-free something-or-other. His teammate Jay stood there, grinning like he'd just caught Marcus stealing second base with his pants down.

"Dude," Jay whispered, loudly. "Are you — are you papaya-blocked right now?"

"Shut up." Marcus's face burned hotter than a fastball to the temple. "I'm just... browsing."

"Browsing. Right." Jay picked up the fallen boxes. "You know she takes those gummy vitamin things? Saw her buying them last week. The ones that taste like fruit punch but are supposedly healthy or whatever. If you're gonna finally talk to her instead of lurking like a weirdo, that's your in."

Marcus looked at Chloe, who was now reaching for something near the vitamins. His heart did this embarrassing flutter-thump thing that definitely wasn't baseball-related.

"What would I even say? Hey, I see you're into papaya and vitamin gummies, weird coincidence but I also exist?"

"Start with hey," Jay said, pushing him. "The rest usually figures itself out."

Chloe turned and spotted them. She smiled — actually smiled — and waved.

Marcus's brain short-circuited.

"Hey!" she called, walking over with the papaya tucked against her hip like she bought exotic fruit every day of her life. "Marcus, right? From bio?"

"Yeah. Hi. Hello. Hey." Smooth. So smooth.

"You play baseball, don't you? I saw your last game. That triple was insane."

She'd been watching? Marcus felt lightheaded. Maybe he needed more vitamins.

"Thanks," he managed, while Jay made dad-joke face from five feet away.

"My brother plays," Chloe continued. "Actually, I'm making this smoothie recipe for him. Pre-game ritual thing. Want the recipe? Unless you're superstitious about that stuff."

"Not at all," Marcus said, and he meant it. Some rituals involved wearing unwashed socks for luck. Smoothie recipes were a massive upgrade.

They exchanged numbers. For the recipe. But Marcus's heart kept doing that flutter thing anyway.

"Smooth," Jay said as they walked to the parking lot. "Though I gotta say, the papya wingman move? Bold strategy."

Marcus laughed, something light and unfamiliar expanding in his chest. "Don't get used to it. But yeah — worth the awkward."

"Definitely." Jay grinned. "Next week, I'm helping you pick out a vitamin. Can't have you getting scurvy between games."