The Curveball by the Pool

Maya's iphone buzzed against her thigh, another notification she'd ignore. Pool parties weren't exactly her vibe—too much skin, too little clothing, way too many chances to say something awkward. She clung to the edge of the pool, clutching her phone like a lifeline, watching water ripple around her legs in annoyingly aesthetically pleasing waves.

"You gonna check Baseball Reference all night or actually get in?"

Maya jumped, nearly dropping her phone into the chlorinated blue. It was Tyler, whose instagram stories made everyone's life seem like a constant highlight reel. She'd definitely been watching his pitch counts from the district tournament.

"I'm just...analyzing," she muttered. "The Mets' bullpen situation is a disaster."

"Tell me about it." He slid into the pool beside her, and Maya's brain short-circuited. Tyler Jacobs, sitting next to her, initiatiing conversation, while she was in a two-piece that felt approximately 400% too small.

"You follow baseball?" she asked, genuine surprise replacing her nerves.

"My dad's assistant coach. Also, I can quote you ERA stats from 1998 if you're really bored." He splashed water at her. "You're at every home game, aren't you? The girl in the oversized jersey behind home plate?"

Maya's face burned. "That's...me."

"Cool." Simple. No joke, no teasing. Just...cool.

Her iphone lit up with another text—her friend group wondering where she'd disappeared to. Suddenly, performing for the camera seemed exhausting. Tyler was talking about slider velocity like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and somehow, it kind of was.

"Tomorrow's game," she found herself saying. "You're starting."

"Yeah." His voice dropped. "Nervous as hell, honestly."

Maya blinked. Tyler Jacobs, nervous? The guy who'd thrown a no-hitter last month?

"You've got a 2.1 ERA," she said automatically. "And your curveball is basically illegal."

He laughed—real laugh, not his instagram story laugh. "Thanks, scout."

"Anytime, pitcher."

The pool lights flickered on, casting everything in underwater blue. Her phone buzzed again, but this time Maya didn't even look down. Some strikeouts were worth swinging for.