The first light of morning crept through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I sat up, feeling the rush of satisfaction from the night before. Sam was still fast asleep beside me, her face serene for once, her guard completely down. She looked so vulnerable, so innocent, like she had no idea she was my entire world.
As I leaned closer, I noticed a small droplet of drool at the corner of her mouth. I couldn't help myself; the urge to taste even the smallest part of her was irresistible. Slowly, I reached out, carefully slipping my finger into her mouth, catching the drool before bringing it to my own lips. It was... perfect. She was perfect. Mine.
I got up, savoring the quiet of the morning as I slipped into my uniform. The sharp contrast between the pristine white and the dark trim made me feel powerful, ready to conquer the field-and to conquer Sam in my own way. Before leaving, I glanced at Sam's uniform lying crumpled on a chair. I took a moment to fold it neatly and left it on the counter for her, a little parting gift. But I had no intention of waking her up. No, she would be late, and I would enjoy every minute of watching her scramble and face the team's judgment.
Downstairs, I joined the rest of the team, exchanging nods with Coach and the others. I could tell they were all excited, anxious to win, but to me, it was all background noise. The real game had already started upstairs in room 207.
An hour later, a commotion broke the calm as Sam, flustered and clearly out of breath, came rushing into the lobby. She was accompanied by Hannah, her face full of worry. I stifled a laugh as Sam scanned the room, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she took in the glares from our teammates.
"Way to make an entrance, St. Onge," I said with a smirk, watching her shrink at the sound of my voice.
On the bus ride to the field, the atmosphere was tense. The team was on edge, annoyed at Sam for her tardiness, but it only made the thrill of the morning even sweeter. She was already off balance, and the day hadn't even begun.
Once we reached the field, everyone was busy preparing for the game. The Tampa Alligators were known to be a fierce team, and this was the championship. But Sam? She looked completely lost, standing on the sidelines, wringing her hands as if she could disappear if she wished hard enough.
I kept my distance, watching her from afar, relishing the way she seemed to spiral into herself. Just then, I heard her timid voice addressing Coach Willis.
"Coach... can I... can I play today? Just... just for a bit?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear the desperation, the pleading, and it was almost too sweet.
Coach didn't even look at her. He just scoffed, his voice cold and dismissive. "No, St. Onge. We can't afford to lose ground just because you want a pity play. Face it-you're just not good enough."
I watched Sam's face crumble, her shoulders drooping as the words sank in. She tried one last time, her voice breaking. "But... it's my last game as a senior..."
"Enough," Coach snapped. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Sam just stood there, looking utterly defeated, her eyes glistening with tears she tried to hold back. She walked over to the bench and sat down, staring into the distance, completely checked out from everything around her. The pain in her expression made my heart pound. She was broken, and it was beautiful.
The game began, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me. Each pitch, each hit, it was all effortless, as if the universe had aligned for me alone. But even as I dominated the field, my eyes kept drifting to Sam, who was now seated on the bench, hollow and lost, like she was barely present. Her spirit was as crushed as I'd planned it to be.
In the sixth inning, when it was my turn to bat, I caught sight of Maya grabbing Sam by the hair, yanking her up from the bench. "Get up, St. Onge," she hissed. "Cheer for Scarlett, you useless waste."
Sam stood, unsteady and vacant, clapping weakly whenever our team got a hit. But I knew she wasn't really there. Her eyes were glazed, her mind elsewhere. And I loved every second of it.
Finally, the game ended with our victory. The Riverbank Hawks had won the championship, and the cheers erupted around us. My teammates were ecstatic, lifting me up, celebrating my performance. I accepted the trophy from the umpire, the weight of victory in my hands, but the true reward was the broken girl I saw standing just off to the side, lost in a crowd that didn't even care she was there.
The photographer called the team together for a photo, and everyone rushed to the mound, cheering and grinning. Sam tried to join us, a faint smile on her face, but before she could settle in, one of our teammates gave her a rough shove, sending her sprawling to the ground.
As the camera clicked, I kept my eyes forward, feeling a dark satisfaction twist inside me. Sam wasn't in the photo, not even a shadow. She was utterly invisible.
Hannah helped her up, casting me a look of pure disgust as she dusted Sam off. But I didn't care. Today, Sam had been put back in her place, and she knew it.
"Guess there's no room for losers in the victory photo, huh?" I whispered as I passed by her on the way back dugout.
I saw her eyes glisten, her mouth forming a silent protest, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't. She was mine, and I had won-both on and off the field.
