The Truth Behind Third Base

Marcus leaned against the chain-link fence, watching the varsity baseball team practice. Again. He'd been doing this every day for two weeks, which was pathetic even by his own admission. But here's the thing — he wasn't there for baseball. He was there for Jordan, the sophomore shortstop who'd somehow managed to get him caught in this weird, drawn-out almost-something that felt more like a guessing game than anything real.

"Dude, just talk to her already," Ty said, scrolling through his phone without looking up. "This stalker routine is not the vibe."

"I'm not stalking," Marcus protested, though his stomach did that stupid flip thing. "I'm... observing. There's a difference."

"That's bull," Ty said. "Complete bull. You know it, I know it, everyone within a fifty-foot radius knows it."

The truth was, Marcus and Jordan had been texting for weeks. Late-night conversations about everything and nothing, Netflix parties where they'd watch terrible movies together, shared playlists that felt like they meant something. But whenever they were at school, it was like none of it existed. She'd wave, maybe smile. That was it.

"Maybe tomorrow," Marcus said, even though tomorrow had been tomorrow twelve times already.

Then Jordan turned, spotted him, and actually walked over. His heart did something genuinely concerning.

"Hey," she said. "You coming to the game Friday?"

"Probably," Marcus managed, trying to sound casual instead of like his entire nervous system was rebooting. "You guys play Lincoln, right?"

"Yeah." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "But after... my dad's working late Friday. He has this crazy cable setup in the basement. Huge TV, gaming setup, everything. We could hang there if you want."

The world narrowed to this moment, to Jordan's slightly nervous smile, to Ty smirking behind him like he'd predicted this entire thing.

"Yeah," Marcus said, and this time he didn't overthink it. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Cool." She wrote her address on his hand with a Sharpie from her pocket, her fingers brushing his skin. "See you Friday."

As she walked back to the field, Marcus looked at the blue ink drying on his palm. It wasn't a big declaration. It wasn't some movie moment. But it was something.

"Tomorrow's not looking so far away anymore," Ty said.

Marcus grinned. "Shut up."