The Fox at Home Plate

Alex adjusted the brim of his backwards baseball hat, trying to look chill even though his stomach was doing backflips. Summer league practice had just ended, and he was deliberately taking his time packing up his gear—mostly because Harper was still by the dugout, and Harper was the kind of beautiful that made Alex forget how to words.

"Hey Bear!" Harper called, jogging over. Bear. Alex had earned that nickname last season after literally catching a line drive with his ribs. The team thought it was hilarious. Harper thought it was cute.

"Yo," Alex managed, keeping it casual. Meanwhile, his internal monologue was screaming: Harper is talking to you. Act normal.

"Me and some people are hitting the lake for swimming," Harper said, tilting their head. "You coming?"

The lake. Where Alex would have to take off his shirt. Where he'd have to reveal the constellation of acne across his back that he'd been strategically hiding all summer. The mere thought made him want to dissolve into the earth.

"Uh, maybe next time," Alex said, already rehearsing his excuse about having to help his mom.

"Come on, Bear," Harper grinned, that stupid perfect grin that made Alex's chest tight. "Don't make me drag you there. Literally. I will."

Alex laughed despite himself. "I'd like to see you try."

"Is that a challenge?" Harper stepped closer, playfully looming. "Because I WILL throw you over my shoulder. Don't test me."

"You wouldn't."

"Harper!" someone yelled from the parking lot. "Let's GO! We're losing daylight!"

Harper turned but glanced back. "Last chance. Seriously, it'll be fun. No pressure though." Then, quieter: "I'd really like you there."

Alex's heart did that thing where it forgot its job. But then his brain reminded him: back. acne. everyone will see. everyone will judge. it'll be weird.

"Nah, I'm good," Alex forced himself to say. "Have fun though."

Harper's expression flickered—disappointment?—before brightening again. "Alright, your loss. Tomorrow same Bat-time though?"

"You know it."

Harper jogged toward the parking lot, then suddenly stopped and pointed at something near the woods. "Whoa! Check it out! A fox!"

Alex turned. An actual fox stood at the edge of the tree line, its reddish coat bright against the green, watching them with intelligent eyes. It looked completely unbothered, like it owned the place.

"He's judging me," Alex said, only half-joking.

"What? Why?"

"For not coming. Foxes know cowardice when they see it."

Harper laughed. "Bear, you're ridiculous. But hey—the fox says go swimming. Listen to the fox."

The fox flicked its tail and disappeared into the woods.

"See? Even he's disappointed in you," Harper teased, then sprinted toward the parking lot.

Alex stood alone by the baseball field, his backwards hat doing nothing to hide what he was feeling. Stupid fox was right. He WAS being a coward. Harper had been genuine. Harper wanted him there. And here he was, letting insecurity make his decisions for him.

Again.

Alex grabbed his gear, threw it in his bag, and sprinted toward the parking lot. "Harp! Wait up!"

Harper turned, grinning as Alex caught up. "Changed your mind?"

"Yeah," Alex said, breathless. "The fox made me do it."

Harper's grin softened into something warmer. "Good. That's a smart fox."

And maybe, just maybe, Alex thought as Harper's shoulder brushed his, tomorrow he'd even take off his shirt. Baby steps.