“Hey.” He shoots me a hurt look. “It’s really aired out now that I don’t have smelly cleats in there. By the start of school I bet it will smell like … you.” He smiles and laughs. “Silver lining, huh?”

“You don’t think you’re going to miss it?”

“The smell of feet?” He shakes his head. “No.”

He walks past me and bends down to get the next section of tent. I reach out to smack his back as he walks by, but he moves and I hit his butt.

Oh god. Maybe I can pretend like it didn’t happen. Maybe he won’t notice. “The baseball, not the smell.”

“I mean, I don’t really have a choice.”

My nerves start to settle.

“I probably will miss all the guys smacking my butt after the game though.” He gives me the tiniest wink and smiles. “Luckily it seems like you’re volunteering to fill that void in my life.”

AIDEN

Olivia looks mortified, and she isn’t making eye contact with me. “But you said your vision’s going to be better by the time school starts. That gives you six months before practice even starts.” Her eyes dart between me and the tent, and she’s really cute when she’s trying to act like she didn’t just smack my ass.

“Just pretending it never happened?” I tease.

“Yep.”

I laugh. “The thing is, my vision could go to hell again. Dr. Shah said flare-ups are common and I’ll probably be dealing with them for years.” I put my hand out and Olivia hands me the last tent pole. “It’s not fair to anybody if I take a spot and then can’t deliver for half of the season.”

“But maybe you could.”

“But probably I couldn’t.” I’m trying not to be annoyed, but I hate that she brought this up. “I quit, Liv.” And I don’t want to quit again. Does she think she’s dating Emerson the baseball star? Is everyone going to forever see me as that guy, even when I’m so far from it? Are we dating?

“Sorry.” She sounds like she means it, and it takes some of the sting out of my voice.

“It’s fine.”

“Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

I smile. “Kind of like the butt smack?”

“No, I’ve decided that was kind of fun.” She smiles, but she still looks shy about it.

I laugh, and pat my butt dramatically. “Anytime, Liv. Anytime.”

She waves a hand at me to stop, and laughs. “You’re weird.”

“Only with you.”

OLIVIA

Ellis might be right. We might be one of “those” antisocial couples now. Even if we’re not an actual couple. But either way, we’re paired off, sitting on the beach together, a line of empty glass bottles nestled into the sand between us.