for the love of the game ; g.d.

Chapter 24

We got back at around 8:30, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry. My mom and Meredith were already in bed, so I didn't bother washing my face or showering. I changed into a sports bra, an oversized tshirt, and some boyshorts and threw myself under my covers.

My mind was spinning, yet it was still able to focus on Grayson and Grayson only. That, and the fact that I was 101% sure that everything was completely messed up. My feelings, his feelings, all of it. And another thing I was 101% sure of? He was totally and unmistakably with the wrong girl, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I wanted so badly for him to be here, holding me and running his fingers through my hair. Like he used to. Or knock on my window late at night just to talk. Like he used to. God, I'd do anything to see his face at my window again.

I just want him. I want all of him, everyday, for the rest of my life. There was no one else I could picture it with. I kicked my covers off and trudged over to my window, digging my nails into the wood and staring up at the night sky. The street was lightened up by the street lights, and I could get a clear shot of Grayson's room. I looked away from it, and back down at the white wood.

Grayson is a thing of the past, I thought. He has to be. It was nice seeing him again, but you have your entire future ahead of you, Leah.

I kept my head down for what felt like forever until I caved and looked at his window. He stood there, turned to the side, shirtless, and both hands covering his face. He looked like he was yawning, or rubbing his face. I stopped staring at him when he dropped his hands, because I saw his gaze turn my direction.

He came to his window and opened it, and out of habit, I opened mine as well. He folded his arms on the sill, and looked across at me. I copied him.

"Can't sleep?" He asked. I shook my head. "Why are you talking so loud? Isn't Natalie in there?"

"She's sleeping on the couch. We got into an argument when I got home," he responded. I nodded, not asking any questions because I was pretty sure I knew what it was about.

For the first time in I think ever, there was an awkward silence between us. Like we both knew what we wanted to say but neither of us wanted to say it first. I caved in, though. I couldn't help but let tears swell up in my eyes, for no apparent reason. Or many reasons, all of which I couldn't really name. He sighed. "Leah..."

I placed my hands over my eyes and let out small sobs, refusing to show my face. I was humiliated. Why the hell was I crying? This is so stupid. I heard his feet hit the grass, and footsteps walking across it. Suddenly his voice was right in front of me. "Come here."

I wiped my face and hopped out the window, falling into his outstretched arms. I cleared my throat and sniffed a few times, trying to regain control of myself. "Lee, we can't do this," he whispered with a shaky voice. "You need to move on." I shook my head and felt more tears falling down. Something deep down in the pit of my stomach was telling me that he was only saying this because he felt like he had to, and I know him like the back of my hand. Even after all these years.

"Why?" I asked. "Why do I have to move on?" His chin trembled on top of my head and I felt him shake his head. He said nothing.

I pulled back, and wiped everything off my face again. "I'll play you."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Play me? For what?"

"Your heart," I said quietly in a cracky voice. His eyes met mine, and grew softer with every second. "10 pitches each. Greater number decides."

"Lee, this is ridiculous, we can't jus-"

"What? This is fair. You've always been a better pitcher than me. If I happen to beat you tonight, then we'll know it's fate."

I walked passed him and into my backyard. I grabbed two gloves from our shed and turned on the porch lamps that lit up the entire patio. He was right behind me, taking a glove from my hand. I grabbed two buckets, one full of softballs, and one full of baseball's that were previously my dad's.

He went first. 7 strikes and 3 balls. All fast enough to make a loud smack sound ring out.

My first two were strikes, my next two were strikes. My next two were strikes. My next two were strikes. My next one was a strike. Somewhere only the way, I had taken my shirt off due to the overwhelming heat, and was left in a sports bra and boyshorts. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I threw in my last pitch. My hand jolted as it left my fingers, and went completely to the side and way over his head.

He didn't reach for it, or even watch it closely enough. Instead he stood up, his eyes locked with mine. Small tears fell down his face and he took his glove off and dropped it to the side. "Strike."

I didn't even feel the tears fall down my face either, but I wasn't paying any attention to them. I ran toward him and locked my arms around neck, letting out quiet sobs as he held me. He whispered "I love you" continuously as he placed small kisses on my shoulder, holding me tighter with every kiss and every "I love you".

I felt his tears fall onto my shoulder. We held each other like it was the last time we'd ever be able to. And just in case it was again, I held him a little tighter.