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FOUR

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Monday, February 22nd

Isaiah couldn't remember the last time he'd been excited and anxious all at once. Knowing that it was Monday and he could finally participate in practice was what was making him excited. What was making him anxious, on the other hand, was seeing August after that awkward three seconds of just staring.

Walking in on a couple was uncomfortable, whether they were doing something or not. They hadn't been, but they were so close, talking quietly, causing Isaiah to feel like he'd interrupted something. Whatever they were talking about had seemed serious.

Everytime he saw them in the hallways, August (as always) would ignore him, which he was thankful for. But the girl sent him glances and looked like she was debating approaching him, until Isaiah would decide to run off because he hated confrontation after weird situations.

During lunch, he wasn't so lucky.

Ashton was scrolling through his phone as he talked animatedly, glancing up at his teammates every now and then when he got to a good part of his story. "She was flirting with me," he boasted. "And dude, when I got home, she sent me nudes. Look—"

"Don't," Steve interrupted, nose scrunched up in distaste. "She sent those to you because she wanted you to see them. Not everyone else. Don't be a dick."

Ashton frowned and held his phone to his chest, hiding it from the prying eyes of his other gross teammates. "I—"

"Ash," Steve said bluntly, "don't be that guy."

He cleared his throat. "My bad," he mumbled. He tapped out of the photos app and placed his phone facedown next to his tray. "Wasn't thinking."

Ashton and Steve had an odd friendship. They were friends, but they argued a lot. Not necessarily in a bad way, but Steve was always putting him in his place, scolding him, and making snarky remarks. Ashton looked up to him, so he never really brushed his words off. A lot of the time he made sarcastic replies back, but he always took his advice. Isaiah wondered if Steve knew that or not. He probably did and took advantage of it for situations like that.

All in all, Steve was a mom.

"Alright, Mama Bear," Marcus joked, flicking Steve's baseball cap, "put away your claws."

"Touch me and you die," Steve threatened, voice monotone. Marcus threw his hands up in surrender. Isaiah laughed, watching as Marcus wiggled his fingers near Steve, who glared at him each time he came too close.

Steve was getting ready to lose his shit when Isaiah felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He tensed his shoulders and turned around, eyes widening momentarily at the sight of the girl he always saw with August. Her hair was tucked behind both ears, green eyes moving between Isaiah and his friends, before they finally settled on him once he'd greeted her with a confused hello. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting in that moment. All Isaiah knew was that he kind of wanted to bolt.

"I'm Morgan," she introduced, fiddling with her school ID. "Um, I wanted to let you know that August and I aren't dating, if that's what you thought at the party. I wouldn't feel the need to tell you this if my brother—Ryan, the host—wasn't such an ass. August is my best friend and I don't want him getting his ass kicked over some rumor." When Isaiah blinked once, twice, three times, she quickly added, "Not that you would spread a rumor like that. I just, you know—"

"No, no," Isaiah interjected. "I get it. No worries."

Her cheeks were turning pink in embarrassment. She waved her free hand, words tumbling out of her mouth. "You see, he was over before the party started and we were just downstairs and then everyone started coming in. And it got loud and August hates loud noises so we went upstairs and watched a show and it was on my laptop so we had to be really close and—"

She stopped at Isaiah's tiny, amused grin. "I'm sorry," she breathed, blowing air out of her mouth and making a stray strand of hair fly forward. "I just—we aren't dating. That's it. Besides I'm interested in someone else." Her eyes shifted behind Isaiah before reaching him again. Isaiah resisted the urge to turn around to see who she looked at.

Morgan cleared her throat. "Okay, sorry," she murmured. "I'm gonna go now. Bye." She gave a small wave before hurrying off, most likely leaving to find August. When Isaiah turned to face those at his table, he was met with curious eyes and lifted eyebrows. He sighed.

"What?"

"She's so into you," Alex declared, nodding with wide, solemn eyes as he chewed obnoxiously on a slice of pizza. Isaiah frowned. Nobody asked for your opinion, is what he wanted to say. But he held back.

Isaiah rolled his eyes. "She said she liked someone else. Not interested anyway."

"And," Marcus piped, "girls and guys can be friends. They don't always have to be dating to have a good relationship."

Isaiah pointed his plastic fork at Marcus with a jerk of his chin. "Thank you."

Marcus winked playfully. "Got you, bro."

Alex pursed his lips and grumbled something before turning to his other friends and striking a quiet conversation. Isaiah refrained from muttering something like an immature child and instead quickly finished his lunch. When he got up after, his friends sent him confused looks.

"Gonna go finish homework," he explained and Ashton groaned loudly.

"Fucking nerd."

___

Leaving seventh period to go straight to the field had Isaiah practically skipping the whole way there. He felt like he was walking on water, like Jesus.

He got weird looks on his way over. After all, anyone would if they saw a lanky and tall teenage boy with a blissed out look on his face hopping his way to practice. For all they knew he was high as a kite.

Isaiah reached the field, an ear-to-ear grin plastered to his face. Once he was in the dugout, Marcus gave him a weird look. "Dude," he said, "you look creepy as hell."

Isaiah frowned. "I'm excited."

"For what?" Ashton added, snickering to himself. "Murder?"

Isaiah narrowed his eyes and raised his bat in a threatening manner, causing Ashton to pout. "What is with you guys and wanting to kill me?" he complained, backing away from them as far as possible. "I didn't do anything."

"You're the only white one in our group," Marcus stated. "It's instinct to get rid of our oppressors."

At Ashton's gaping mouth, Isaiah added, "He's kidding." He didn't look convinced.

Before Marcus could make another comment to bother Ashton, Coach blew his whistle right in the boy's ear. Marcus yelped and covered his ears, turning around quickly to stare wide-eyed at Coach. The man had narrowed eyes and arched an eyebrow, jerking his head at the field.

"Stop gossiping and get out there."

The players murmured in choppy unison and hurried to get their things before jogging out to the field. When Isaiah was about to leave, Coach placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. A sinking feeling settled in his chest until—

"Welcome back." He slapped his shoulder and gently pushed him, and Isaiah grinned widely. He raced out to join Marcus, Ashton, and Steve, who were bickering. Well, Steve wasn't. He was simply observing.

Coach sighed when he heard them. "Ladies," he barked. "Quit it or I'll have you two clean the locker rooms and dugout."

Immediately, Marcus and Ashton stopped. Isaiah snorted to himself. Coach addressed them and told them what they were doing that day, leaving them to obey his instructions.

Practice went by fast due to Isaiah's excitement, and once it was over, he sulked back to the dugout. Marcus noticed and laughed, slugging him on the shoulder. "We have practice tomorrow, dumbass," he stated. "Cheer up."

"I might use the cages," Isaiah told him, shrugging his bag over his shoulder and straightening up. "You wanna come with?"

Marcus smiled sheepishly. "I can't," he admitted. "I would, but my mom wants me to help her with dinner. She found this new recipe and it sounds fucking disgusting."

Isaiah scrunched his nose up in distaste. As much as he wanted Marcus to go with him, he knew that, despite his mother's cooking being absolutely disgusting, he wanted to spend time with her. It didn't happen often. "Good luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it."

While everyone else went to the locker rooms to change and go home, Isaiah made his way to the batting cages. He organized his things and sent a text to his mom saying he was staying after for a little longer, which she called him for. He sighed and picked up.

"Isaiah," she immediately said, her tone direct. "If you're going to be there alone, then come home."

Isaiah pursed his lips and looked up, eyes zeroing in on the familiar blond beginning to get up from the bleachers. His chest fluttered for a moment. "I'm not alone," he said. It wasn't really a lie. There was someone there.

His mother hummed. "Let me talk to them."

Fuck. "Oh my God, Mom, no—"

"Isaiah." He cursed internally and closed his eyes, prayed to God that August would help him, and left the cages. August had just reached the bottom and looked to be getting ready to leave, and Isaiah was panicking. This was one of the worst situations Isaiah could ever think of. He was going to fuck up again; he just knew it.

"August," he blurted, then winced. He'd never told Isaiah his name, so now he probably thought he was even more of a creep. Knowing his name without being introduced. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Already fucking up.

August glanced at Isaiah with a frown. "What?"

Isaiah cleared his throat and muted his phone before walking over. "Um," he began, scratching at his jaw, "can you do me a favor?"

August looked at Isaiah's phone, then back at Isaiah. He raised an eyebrow. "Why should I?"

"I'll pay you back," Isaiah promised. "Anything. Except for money. I'm saving up for a new glove."

August hummed in thought and leaned his side against the fence, head tilted to the side. A few wavy curls dangled in front of his face, those seafoam eyes half-lidded and observing Isaiah from head to toe. He wondered why that fluttery feeling happened again.

"You any good at Calculus?" August finally asked, gaze travelling up to Isaiah's eyes.

"I'd like to think so," he mumbled.

"Isaiah," his mother's voice snapped from his phone. He gave August an apologetic look before unmuting.

He was so going to get smacked for this. "Mom, wait one second, please."

"Do not tell me to wait, young man," she scolded, and Isaiah could see her face clearly in his head. Furrowed brows and mouth set in a deep line, probably pacing around the living room. Isaiah prepared for death.

Isaiah muted again. August's lips curled into an amused grin, one that exposed deep dimples and laughter lines. His chest did the thing again, and it made him want to squeeze it to get it to stop happening. What the fuck.

"I, uh, I'm good at Calculus," Isaiah stammered, waving his free hand in the air. "I can help. If that's what you need?"

August shrugged. "Okay. I'll be your babysitter, then. And you can be my tutor who can't get through one sentence."

Isaiah's face burned, and he thanked his mother and father for his dark-enough complexion. "Oh, okay. Thank you, um... she wants you to talk to her." He unmuted the phone and handed it over to him. "Here, I guess."

August chuckled and put the phone on speaker, carefully sitting back down on the last seat on the bleachers. "Hello," he greeted politely, fingers massaging at the area above his good knee. "I'm August. I'm here with Isaiah because he promised to help me with homework. He's in good hands."

Isaiah's mother sighed. "Are you a baseball player, too?"

August's smile faltered. "No, ma'am."

She let out a sigh of relief. "God bless," she breathed. August cracked a tiny smile, looking up at Isaiah, who was shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "It's about time he's found a friend who won't smell like sweat all the time."

"Can't promise anything," he joked. "I do physical therapy for my leg. Pretty draining, to be honest."

She let out a soft oh. "Good luck," she said. "Hope it all gets better. Now make sure my son doesn't somehow get kidnapped or murdered. Thank you, bye-bye." She hung up and August chuckled, handing Isaiah his phone back.

"You're nothing like your mother," August commented, slowly standing back up with a slight wince. "You're shy and awkward and she's the exact opposite."

Isaiah frowned. "I'm not," he protested.

"So I'm special?" August mused. "I make you nervous?"

"I... shut up. You can leave if you want," Isaiah muttered, quickly changing the subject. Why am I so nervous around him? He's just some random guy. Isaiah wanted to slap himself. "I'll be fine on my own."

August clicked his tongue and shook his head. He brushed past Isaiah with a quiet laugh, one that made Isaiah's stomach tingle, and said, "Can't do that. I promised your mom I'd make sure you don't get kidnapped or murdered."

Isaiah didn't say anything and instead hurried back over to the cages with August leaning against the fence outside of it. Isaiah didn't perform as well as he wanted to with August watching and analyzing him. It was nervewracking, and he didn't know why. Because he was a stranger?

August gently shook the fence, causing Isaiah to look over at him in curiosity. "Your foot is placed wrong," he commented, pointing at his feet placement. "Spread them apart a little more. It'll keep you balanced."

I knew that, Isaiah scolded himself. What the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together.

"I thought you didn't play baseball," Isaiah said, doing as August advised.

"I don't," he replied.

Isaiah glanced over. "But?"

He smiled weakly, shrugging his shoulders. "But I used to."