The Bull in the Bleachers

The baseball hat sat backward on Jake's head because that's how Tyler wore his, and Tyler was everything Jake wanted to be: confident, smooth, capable of talking to girls without his voice cracking.

"You're not gonna chicken out, right?" Tyler asked, already running toward the bleachers where Sarah and her friends sat.

Jake's palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating. He wiped them on his jeans, trying to look casual instead of like someone who'd just been called out in front of his crush and her entire friend group. "Course not. That would be bull, and I'm not about that life."

"Then get up there." Tyler gestured to the section where Sarah sat, her own hat pulled low over her eyes. She'd been watching Jake play baseball since seventh grade, but somehow he'd never actually spoken to her. Not really. Not beyond "good game" and "you too" in that weird high-pitched voice that happened whenever he got nervous.

The stands were packed. Parents, siblings, that one group of loud seniors who always heckled everyone. Jake took a breath, adjusted his hat (still backward, because commitment), and started up the steps.

His heart was running a marathon in his chest. Each step felt heavier than the last. By the time he reached the row where Sarah sat, his palms were so sweaty he could practically water plants with them.

"Hey." He said it too loud. Several heads turned.

Sarah looked up, pushing her hat back. "Hey."

"I—" Jake's brain empty. Entirely. All those practiced lines, gone. "I liked your... Instagram post."

Sarah blinked. "My post from Tuesday?"

"Yeah. The one with the..."

"My dog wearing sunglasses?"

"Exactly." Jake nodded vigorously. "That was some bull. In a good way."

What.

Sarah stared at him for one agonizing second. Then her shoulders started shaking. Then she was laughing, actually laughing, and not in a mean way. In a way that made her nose crinkle and her eyes bright and suddenly Jake was laughing too because he'd just used "bull" to describe a dog in sunglasses.

"You're weird," she said, but she was smiling. "I like weird."

"Cool." Jake's heart was still running, but maybe that wasn't bad. Maybe that was just what happened when you were brave enough to say something stupid in front of someone you'd been crushing on for three years.

"Sit down," Sarah said, patting the empty spot beside her. "Watch the rest of the game with us."

Jake sat. His palms were still sweaty, his hat was still backward, and Tyler was watching from three rows down with the world's most obvious thumbs-up.

But Sarah passed him her bag of chips, and her hand brushed his, and for the first time, Jake didn't feel like he was striking out.