My heart sank. Cameron's worst fears of a career-ending injury could have just happened. It didn't help that he lay there, unmoving on the field. The outfield players knelt out of respect while some infielders rushed over to check on him. 

I wanted to run onto the field personally to ensure he was okay, but I stood by my seat, hoping for any sign that he'd be alright. While it wasn't the second baseman's fault—merely colliding into him at the wrong place and time—mild frustration at number four festered as he took his time getting off Cameron. 

While I wasn't an expert at baseball, why Cameron decided to take a risk in stealing third base was beyond me. 

The crowd felt the same as a lot of us stood, watching as their coach and a staff member went to check on Cameron. The Lions' number four knelt in respect, evidently not injured by the collision but upset about the situation in general. Nobody wanted to put another player out of the game unless they had serious mal intentions.

Cameron's coach knelt, checking for any apparent signs of injury and prying Cameron's gloves and helmet off before talking to him. 

Cameron seemed responsive, his legs shifting to a more comfortable position before attempting to sit up. The coach stayed by his side until the medic arrived on the field, further assessing any injury. I couldn't look away the entire time, desperately wanting a thumbs-up or any other sign of his well-being. 

The medic checked Cameron's neck before allowing him to sit up, all while Cameron's eyes searched the crowds and dugouts. He smiled toward his team's dugout—and possibly even my direction—before answering questions and moving his limbs. Aside from the shoulder, he landed on and the side he got tackled, he didn't appear to be in too much pain. He moved and flexed his legs before the coach and medic helped him to his feet. A sigh of relief escaped me when he took a few steps. The crowd clapped and cheered as they guided him off the field. Another player took his place on second base, and the team resumed the game. 

Just like nothing ever happened. Meanwhile, my nerves were all over the place, along with my many other emotions. 

Cameron had been injured in games before, worse than today. But, the same dreaded fear of him being seriously injured in a sport he loved still terrified me as it did in high school. 

It shouldn't bother me; we were supposed to be exes, acquaintances, and old friends. But here I was, wishing I could run down the steps and follow after him. 

The last few innings were agonizing. I wanted nothing more than to find and check on Cameron myself. It didn't matter that he was smiling and waving as he walked perfectly fine off the field. The announcers hadn't said anything, and Cameron hadn't returned to the field by the time the game ended. Their alternate third baseman, who I couldn't remember the name had stepped in for Cam, and with a few errors, the Lions had pulled ahead with a final score of 4-3.

Although I know the team must've been disappointed at the loss, my mind was elsewhere. 

It wasn't until the bleachers were filling out that I impatiently followed the path back to the athletic center, where I had seen the golf cart had taken him. 

I froze by the door, seeing Cameron sitting on the bench with the medic, a bunch of medical equipment near him. The medic put some supplies away as Cameron rolled his shoulder. An ice pack was taped to his arm. His smile returned as he noticed me peeking in the door. 

Cameron motioned me to enter, so I propped the door open. The staff turned and said, "I'm sorry, only staff and athletes should be in here." 

"Uh, he's with me," Cameron said, touching the medic's shoulder. "It's fine."

The lady didn't seem convinced but shrugged. Hesitant to even approach them in case I got either of them in trouble for being here, I slowly made my way over to Cameron.

"Hey, Eth."

"Hey," I breathed, scanning for any other bandages. "You alright?"

"I'm good. Lacy here got me drugs."

"Medicine," she clarified. "He'll be a little disoriented as the effects kick in. I'll let Coach Barnes know the status."

Lacy was hesitant to leave, but with a wave of Cameron's hand, she left us alone. 

I waited for the doors to shut behind us before I asked, "How bad is it?"

"I'm alright," he said, the ice packs not at all comforting. "Mostly bruising. At most, a slight sprain, I promise."

"It didn't look alright out there."

Cameron grinned. "I'll be okay, Ethan. Don't worry."

"I do worry," I told him. "Sports injuries can be devastating."

He held up his arms, turning them to show me. "See, not even a scratch."

"I was worried about the shoulder you landed on. You came down pretty hard."

"Not sore," he insisted, his eyes blinking as if he struggled to keep them open.

"Not yet, and Lacy gave you pain medicine."

"Oh, right," he said. "I'll be fine, Eth. Did we win?"

I hesitated. "No."

"Bummer." Not expecting such a nonchalant response, I wondered just how strong the medicine she gave him was. "Well, Columbia's tough to beat. At least we made it to champs."

"You don't sound so sad about losing."

Cameron shrugged, or as best as he could, with the ice packs on his shoulder. "Of course, I wanted to win. But we weren't nearly prepared enough this season. We were short alternates, and many of us have other commitments with the school and whatnot."

I nodded. It still amazed me that these guys practiced for hours, went to games, and had to be in classes like the rest of us. At least with orchestra, there was a lot less running around. 

"And..." he trailed. "Never mind."

"And what?"

He looked at me, his eyes softening. For a moment, I wondered if the medicine was making him drowsy as his eyes fluttered close. "It feels like I already won."

I tilted my head, wondering if he really did hit his head after all. "Why's that?" 

He reached his hand over, slipping into mine and squeezing. "'Cause you're here."

Despite the loss, Cameron's team was adamant about going to the sports bar to celebrate being the runner-up in the competition. Cameron's shoulder was still aching, but he seemed just as excited about going to the bar as anyone else. It was a casual bar that offered karaoke, live sports, and a wide selection of cocktails, beers on tap, and appetizers. Plus, it wasn't that far from our hotel. 

Bars weren't my scene, but the food was promising, and I wasn't going to be a sore sport and sit in the hotel room by myself worrying about Cameron's injury—even though I doubted drinking was a good idea with whatever meds Lacy had given him. He insisted I be there with his signature puppy-dog eyes that I couldn't resist, and I'd make sure he didn't over-drink if I could help it. 

The rest of the team was easy to get along with, and a few were just as introverted as I was. Eric and their first baseman kept to themselves, occasionally chatting with a few of their teammates before scrolling through their phones. Cameron's alternate felt terrible about the errors, but everyone assured him he did well under pressure. As soon as Cameron bought him a shot, he felt better and joined the rest of the team, dancing and playing darts. 

Felipe was only a couple of shots in and was already getting on the other players' nerves. As the music blasted pop music that I could only describe as raunchy club music, their shortstop held onto Cameron's teammates, occasionally pretending to slap their asses or grind on them as if this was some high school dance. 

"Don't mind him," Eric told me after downing a shot of rum. He cursed at it before throwing his head in Felipe's direction. "He'll probably pass out in about an hour. Kenji's in charge of him today."

"Since when?" The pitcher wrapped an arm around Eric's shoulder, seemingly from out of nowhere. Eric tensed before tossing a glare at him. "I thought it was your turn."

"Have the outfield deal with his ass, then."

Kenji smirked. "So I can deal with yours?"

Eric nearly elbowed him in the side as Kenji's hand slinked to Eric's back pocket and gave it a squeeze. "Ignore our captain; he lacks basic manners."

"I'm joking," Kenji teased before turning to me. "Did you enjoy the game?"

I nodded. "Until the collision."

Kenji glanced at Cameron, who was conversing with the bar staff, presumably for another drink. "Yeah, no one told him to steal. He doesn't usually play risky moves like that. Glad he's alright, though. Keep an eye on him for us, would you?"

Despite their banter, both grinned as if there was an underlying meaning behind it. Had they caught on to us?

If I had been in either of their shoes, Cameron's feelings would have been quite noticeable, as much as I'd like to pretend it wasn't. He wore his heart on his sleeve. 

And, as for me, I was aware that my feelings for Cameron were coming back in full force, too, from the concern of being injured to that fluttering feeling whenever his smile was directed at me. 

That thought scared me. 

A part of me hoped it had been pushed down all these years, that Cameron would be just someone I used to know at some point. But that's not how it was at all; it was futile to think that I could forget and move on from Cameron. I missed everything about him, even from the cringiest and silliest moments with him—forgetting Cameron would mean forgetting the person who made me who I am today. I was equally grateful for Cameron but also apprehensive. That feeling of things being too good to be true or fearing something would go wrong at any moment. Taking risks was not something I loved to do, and dwelling and letting these feelings fester was one I couldn't decide was worth the risk. 

But Cameron had also told me that life was about taking risks. 

And who would I have been if Cameron hadn't taught me to take risks? Without Cameron, I'm not sure I would've made it out of high school, let alone pursue my career in teaching. 

I'd probably live as my parent's puppet forever, achieving the unfulfilled goals they projected onto me. 

I don't think I would like that version of Ethan very much.

"Ethan," Cameron called from the end of the bar with sheets of paper. "We can put music requests in. Help me decide which Taylor song to play."

I gave Eric an apologetic smile, leaving him with Kenji as I left my seat and slipped beside Cameron. His face flushed as my shoulder pressed against him. His left hand brushed mine, his right gripping the pencil tightly as if debating what to do with me this close to him. 

And like he took a risk out on the field, I took mine, placing my hand in his at the end of the bar.