May We Meet Again.

ten.

My alarm clock wakes me up at seven-thirty, signaling that it's time to start getting ready for my game today. I reach over to stop the disgusting sound, grabbing my phone and scrolling through my social media. After about fifteen minutes of that, I realize I actually need to get out of bed if I'm gonna make it to warm-ups on time. Knowing Harry, he's going to leave significantly earlier than necessary, something I will never be able to understand. I'm still kinda flustered from last night so avoiding him is high on my list for what seems like the billionth time.

I lazily roll out of bed, walking over to my closet to grab the shirt we were given as a uniform and a pair of black shorts. I put them on, then head over to my mirror to get my hair ready. My coaches in high school always said you have to "look good to play good" and I take that literally. I always straighten my hair, part it and then braid it back into a ponytail, finishing off with a forest green bow to match the uniform.

I finish off with my makeup, checking the clock to see it read eight twenty-two. Warm-ups start at nine so if I leave at eight-thirty I will get there around fifteen minutes early. Hopefully, Harry has left by now. I chill out on my bed until it's time for me to leave, and after slipping on a pair of sandals I remember that my gear is in Harry's car still. Groaning, I take my keys and make headway for my car, not planning on stopping for anything or anyone.

The drive was quick. I blasted music from my workout playlist through the speakers and sang along at the top of my lungs, one of my very favorite pastimes. I pulled up to the park and as I predicted, Harry's car was parked in one of the spots closest to the gates. I see some of my other teammates walking in and I decide I should do the same. I get out of my car and head straight for our dugout. I see my glove and cleats neatly placed on the bench for me, and I take seat next to them so that I can get ready. As I do this, I hear Harry's deep voice from the outfield, laughing with the other members of the team and just being his charismatic self. I smile while continuing to get ready, take a deep breath and put my glove on to go warm up.

.

"Here we go, Oakley!"

"You got this!"

"Just takes one, kid!"

Words of encouragement from my teammates ringing in my ears as I approach the batters box. I turn to look back at my coach who claps and few times while sending an affirming nod in my direction. It's only slow pitch, there's no way this will be hard.

I spin the bat around in my hands a couple times before taking a breath and stepping into the box. The pitcher eyes me down before taking position on the mound and I prepare my load. The ball is in the air, approaching me at a pace much slower than I actually anticipated. I take a hard whack at it, practically coming out of my shoes, but ending up missing it entirely.

I'm absolutely mortified and honestly don't want to go back for fear of what else I could do wrong. I look back at my coach who just gives me another nod, his arms now folded.

"Let's go, Oaks!" A familiar voice sounds out above all the others. I turn around to see my best friend, smiling at me, putting his fingers to his lips and whistling for all the world to hear. I laugh at him, turning back to the batter's box and stepping in.

The pitcher resumes their position, sending the ball back in my direction, but I've adjusted. I wait patiently for it to come down, then take another big hack, feeling the ball make contact directly on the sweet spot. I take off running towards first and as I round the bag, I see the ball coming in from right field. I look back at the dugout, my hands in the air clapping as the rest of my team shouts in joy.

The rest of the game was fun, We won, five to three. Harry got a couple hits and I got one more after my single. It became a lot more enjoyable once I recognized that it's only intramural slow pitch, and when I just relaxed a little. Having people you're comfortable with around helps, too.