The Riddle of First Base

I never thought I'd be hiding behind the snack bar during a baseball game, but here I was. Sixth inning, our high school team down by three, and I was crouched beside a cardboard box of tropical fruits, nursing a papaya I'd impulsively bought from the food truck outside.

"You gonna eat that, or just stare at it like it's a riddle?"

I jumped. Maya leaned against the wall, grinning. "You're missing Lucas's at-bat. Again."

My face burned. Lucas Fox—senior, catcher, the kind of beautiful that made your brain short-circuit. We'd been paired for that history project on ancient Egypt, and somehow I'd accidentally called him a sphinx during our presentation. He'd laughed, but I'd wanted to disappear.

"He's not gonna notice I'm gone," I muttered.

"Bro, he literally asked where you were before the game." Maya raised an eyebrow. "You're being weird."

The cable from the field lights crackled above us, sending sparks hissing onto the grass. Perfect. Now my romantic existential crisis was accompanied by technical difficulties.

"I'm not being weird. I'm being... strategic." I took a bite of the papaya. Wrong move. It squished everywhere. "What if I say something stupid? Again?"

"You called him a sphinx. That was kind of legendary, honestly." She paused. "Wait, is that why you're hiding? Because he laughed?"

"It was a pity laugh, Maya! I could feel it. The pity radiating off him like—"

"Like you radiating desperation right now?" She yanked the papaya from my hand and tossed it in the trash. "Go talk to him. The game's tied, he's probably looking for you, and if you don't make a move, I will."

I groaned but followed her back to the bleachers. Lucas was there, helmet off, scanning the crowd. When our eyes met, he smiled—genuine, warm, not-pity-at-all.

"Hey," he said, sliding over to make room. "I saved you a seat. Also, I brought my notes on that sphinx paper if you want to look them over. Together."

My heart did something embarrassingly similar to the earlier cable sparks. "Together?"

"Yeah. I mean, unless you'd rather hide behind the snack bar again." He grinned. "Maya told me everything. By the way, nice papaya strategy. Very subtle."

I buried my face in my hands. "I hate both of you."

"You hate us enough to get pizza after the game? My treat. I promise not to call you any Egyptian monuments." His shoulder brushed mine, and suddenly the baseball game, the papaya disaster, the cable sparking above us—it all faded into background noise.

"Only if you explain why you keep looking at me like I'm a riddle you're trying to solve."

Lucas's face turned pink. "Maybe because you are."