Sweaty Palms and Sunset Innings

The orange glow of sunset filtered through the palm trees above Centennial Field, painting everything in warm gold and dusty shadows. Jake's palms were sweating so much he could practically fill a water bottle, and no amount of wiping them on his jeans was helping.

This was it. The moment he'd been overthinking for three weeks.

"Dude, you good?" Marcus nudged him. "You've been weird all night."

"I'm fine," Jake lied, swiping his hands down his pant legs for the third time.

The baseball game was tied 3-3, bottom of the ninth, and honestly? Jake couldn't care less about the score. His entire world had narrowed down to three rows down, where Chloe sat with her friends, wearing that same orange Adidas backpack she'd brought to every game since the season started.

Chloe, with the dark curly hair and the laugh that carried across the entire stadium. Chloe, who Jake had somehow made it through sixteen years without ever actually talking to, despite sharing three classes.

"You're literally shaking," Marcus pointed out.

"I'm not shaking. It's just – cold?" Even Jake heard how weak that sounded. It was eighty degrees.

"Just go talk to her. What's the worst that happens? She says no, you die of embarrassment, life goes on."

The baseball player at the plate swung – crack! The ball soared into left field. Everyone jumped up, screaming. Everyone except Jake, whose legs had apparently forgotten how to human. Including Chloe, now standing, her orange backpack slung over one shoulder.

This was his chance. Or his chance to publicly humiliate himself. Either way.

Somehow, Jake's legs carried him down the metal bleachers. His heart hammered like a trapped bird, and he was hyper-aware of everything – the sticky spilled soda under his sneakers, the way his voice might crack, the very real possibility that he might actually pass out.

Chloe turned as he approached, curious instead of annoyed.

"Hey!" she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You're in my AP English class, right?"

"Yeah – Jake."

"I know. We've been in school together since seventh grade, Jake."

His face burned. "Right. That – that would make sense."

"I like your backpack," Jake heard himself say, and immediately wanted to die. That was his opening line?

Chloe's eyebrows shot up, then she grinned. "Thanks! My little sister picked it out. She's obsessed with orange. Says it's a power color."

"She seems smart."

"She's also the reason I'm at these baseball games," Chloe admitted. "I don't understand what's happening, but she's obsessed." She pointed. "Number twenty-three."

Jake glanced at the field. "Cool."

"You don't know anything about baseball either, do you?"

"Not a single thing."

Her grin widened. "Wanna sit with us and mutually not understand what's happening?"

Jake's heart did something complicated in his chest. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

Behind him, Marcus wolf-whistled. Jake didn't even care.

The baseball game stretched on beneath the palm trees, the orange deepening to purple as night fell, and Jake finally stopped overthinking everything and just started living.