“No matter what happens in the next five minutes, I want you to know that when I opened this door, I was so happy to see you that my heart leapt. It leapt in my chest.”
—For Love of the Game
Wes
The 1rst week Aew by.
The baseball part of it, aka Hell Week, was pretty intense. Practice, lifting, position-speci1c practice, conditioning; I spent more time suPering with my teammates than I did with my coursework.
Which sent me scootering to the library every night in an attempt to stay ahead of my studies. Powell was the main library on campus, the one that made sense for me to use as my studying home base, but I liked to go a little farther and study at the music library.
Because it was quieter.
Okay, that was total bullshit.
I studied at the quiet music library in hopes of running into a certain music student who might also be studying there. A music student with green eyes, copper hair, and tattooed daisies on her hip.
A music student I dreamed about nearly every night.
Whose voice I could still hear, whose perfume I could still smell.
I had yet to see her, but I sensed she was close. I had a few ideas on how to accidentally run into her, i.e., spend an entire day studying in the lobby of
Schoenberg, where all her music classes were likely held; ask my teammate Eli’s girlfriend, who worked in the registrar’s office, to screenshot Liz’s schedule; call Mr. Buxbaum and beg for intel; call Helena and beg for intel; etc. But I needed my life to slow down in order for me to make it happen.
So, on Friday night, as I walked back to my dorm after a chaotic 1rst week and zero Liz sightings at the library, I was really looking forward to going out. Not to get shit-faced, but just to let loose with the guys and have an entire evening where I wasn’t thinking about school or baseball.
Or her.
I punched my code into the keypad and pushed open the door.
“It’s about fucking time,” Wade (1rst baseman and one of my suitemates) said, looking like a douche as he stood in the middle of the shared living room wearing tight jeans, a white T-shirt, a black blazer—what the hell—and a goddamn fedora on his big head. “I am ready to go.”
He was with Mickey (catcher/other suitemate) and AJ, who weren’t dressed
like Bruno Mars, thank God, and they all appeared to be waiting on me. “Where—to a costume party?” I asked, dropping my backpack onto the
coPee table.
“Don’t be jealous of my style, Bennett,” Wade said, dusting the front of his jacket like he was big shit.
“Oh, I am de1nitely not that.”
“Just get yourself together because we already called an Uber and it’s on the way,” AJ said. “If I’m not dancing soon, I’m gonna lose it.”
My favorite thing about AJ was the fact that he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about him. And not in an asshole way, but in a true-to-himself way. My boy loved dancing (like all-out, covered in sweat because he’s dancing so hard), he loved K-dramas, and he would argue to the death the merits of seltzer being better than beer.
“How long?” I asked, really wanting a shower after speeding back to Hitch under the warm California sun.
AJ looked at his phone. “It says my driver, Larissa, is twelve minutes away.”
“I can shower in three.” I went into the bedroom to grab clean clothes and yelled, “I’m good in jeans and a T-shirt, right?”
“No, you scrub,” Wade replied at the exact second AJ and Mickey yelled in unison, “Yes!”
I ducked into the shower and was ready just in time to slide into Larissa’s ride with everyone else. AJ started chatting up Larissa because she was exactly his type—dark-haired bombshell with book quotes tattooed on her arm—but she was having none of his bullshit. She dropped us at an apartment complex that was swanky as hell, and I was in shock as we got into the elevator.
“Wow.” I looked at the illuminated numbers on the elevator display as the doors closed behind us. “College students live here?”
I couldn’t even fathom a guess as to how much the rent would be in a place like this. It wasn’t a building for twentysomethings. It was a building for wealthy adults.
And trust-fund babies.
I mean, the doorman was collecting party tickets, for God’s sake.
What the hell are we doing here? I pressed the 2 button.
“Clark said his roommate’s parents are loaded,” Wade said, “and that they bought the condo just so their kid can rent it from them every month.”
“Damn,” I said. Clark—the giant at practice with the video camera—seemed down-to-earth and very chill, so I was surprised he lived with someone so wealthy. “Must be nice.”
“Right? Why don’t I have friends like that?” AJ said, 1nger-combing his hair as he stared at his reAection in the elevator wall.
When the doors opened, we could immediately hear the music coming from down the hall. I wasn’t sure how anyone was able to pull oP that noise level without the neighbors calling the cops. Maybe the units in the building were insulated so well that they couldn’t hear it?
Doubtful.
We followed the sound to 2C. The door was closed, but it was so loud on the other side that knocking would be ridiculous. AJ turned the knob, pushed, and just like that—the party was upon us.
We stepped inside and holy balls—I was impressed.
Holy, holy balls.
Was this what parties were like in LA, or was this unusual?
From our spot in the foyer, we could see a living room packed full of people. Some were dancing, some were talking, but the sound system was what had me losing my mind. This party sounded like we were in a club. Like, yes, the music was loud, but the sound was incredible.
Also—“Heaven Angel” was a banger I hadn’t heard in way too long.
I could see a huge kitchen oP to the right of the living room, where there appeared to be even more people drinking. It was controlled chaos, though, in spite of how huge it was. Unlike the high school parties back home, where couches sometimes caught 1re and 1ghts were known to break out, everyone was actually behaving.
How is this possible?
“See why I said we had to get tickets?” Wade said, grinning. “Insane, right?” “Unreal,” I shouted, laughing because it was insane. Are we on a reality show? “I love you, man,” AJ yelled to Wade, his eyes all over the room like he was a
toddler who’d woken up in the middle of Santa’s workshop. I followed his starstruck gaze and noticed that there were a lot of girls there.
A lot, yet I didn’t care because I didn’t see the only one who mattered.
“Let’s go get some beers,” Mickey yelled, pointing somewhere where I assumed there were beers.
I didn’t know where we were going, but I was all in.
