The Orange Jersey Last Stand

The orange jersey hit me like a fluorescent traffic cone. Bright, impossible to ignore, and definitely not my vibe.

"Dude, you look like a construction worker," Leo said, snorting as he adjusted his baseball cap. His jersey - crisp, pristine white - made my orange monstrosity look even more ridiculous.

"Blame Coach," I muttered, pulling at the fabric. "Said we needed more team spirit. Whatever that means when we're literally the worst squad in the league."

We were running late to the championship game, Leo's baseball cleats clacking against the pavement while I tried not to trip over my own feet. Baseball had never been my thing - I'd only joined because Leo had begged, and now here we were, about to get destroyed by Jackson High.

"You know," Leo said suddenly, not looking at me, "my parents think I should focus on baseball. Like, actually focus. Stop wasting time with... other stuff."

My stomach did that thing it always did when he mentioned his parents' expectations. The same thing it did when he caught me staring at him during practice, or when our hands brushed reaching for the same water bottle.

"Other stuff?" I managed, my voice coming out weirdly tight.

He stopped walking. The orange fabric suddenly felt too tight, too bright, like everyone could see through it. See through everything.

"Yeah. You know." Leo's eyes found mine, and something shifted. The air between us thickened, charged with all the words we'd never said. "Like spending all my time with someone who wears hideous orange jerseys."

I laughed, but it came out strangled. "Wow, thanks."

"I'm serious." He stepped closer. His baseball cap shadowed his eyes, but I could see them anyway - see everything he wasn't saying. "Some things are worth getting distracted for."

The orange jersey didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. It felt like armor. Like a flag.

"We're gonna be late," I whispered, not moving.

"Yeah." Leo didn't move either. "But, like... maybe after the game? We could go get orange soda? My treat."

The world tilted sideways, just a little. Bright and impossible to ignore.

"Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time."

He grinned, and I forgot how to breathe. "Deal. Now come on, we're literally running late."

We ran. I was still wearing the orange jersey. I was still terrible at baseball. But for the first time, I wasn't running away anymore.