"Obviously, the ten-minute version," Ethan said, pointing to the sheet of paper. "I know you'll wanna sing "Love Story" and "Enchanted" too."

His words filled my ears, but I could only focus on his hand in mine. I truthfully couldn't figure out if my warm cheeks were from the alcohol or Ethan. "What?"

He laughed, scrunching his nose as the bar lights twinkled in his eyes. No one had noticed our intertwined hands and his playful smirk rendered me speechless. He never lost his cunning ways.

"You should put "Back To December" on there," he said, leaning his head in my direction. "That's one of my favorites."

Shuffling through the songs, I remembered him blasting in my car, I asked, "Not "Haunted"? With the epic violin backing?"

"That's a close second." Ethan pursed his lips before adding, ""Back to December" hits differently now."

Before I could mentally rehearse the lyrics in my head, he released my hand, reaching up and squeezing my arm. "Come on," he said. "Let's put the requests in. The queue's probably already flooded."

I nodded, scribbling down a bunch of her songs. Ethan handed the slip of paper to the staff, who swiftly punched in the songs on a tablet. Our seats remained open, so I ordered another cocktail before sitting with Ethan, who ordered a shot of soju. 

Eric turned to us, most likely trying to ignore Kenji's silly bantering. The rest of our infielders stood with drinks in their hands, never straying far from us at the bar. A few of our other players had grabbed a table, ordering appetizers to share, especially among the younger players who couldn't drink yet.

"Shouldn't you take it easy on the alcohol, Cam?" Eric pointed at my shoulder. "You took the pain medicine not too long ago."

I shrugged, clanking my shot glass to his beer. "It's fine. It's not a concussion, and it was a small dose, according to Lacy."

Kenji leaned forward, not convinced either. "I'll ask for a pitcher of water for you."

Between him and Ethan, there was no doubt they'd ensure I didn't have an embarrassing hangover. The same couldn't be said for Felipe; Marco and Daniel encouraged his drinking habits, sliding a flight of shots his way. 

Felipe downed the first one like he was dying of thirst, groaning as he slumped on the barstool. He turned to Ethan, his eyes struggling to focus. "How did you two even meet?"

Kenji tilted his head. "Right, no offense, but you two don't seem like a likely friendship."

I rolled my eyes. "I liked hearing him play."

Felipe blinked. "He played baseball?"

Ethan shook his head. "Violin," he clarified, adding, "Cameron liked to watch me play."

Kenji nodded. "He was in a trance during the performance. Thought he was drooling at one point—"

"Oh, shush." I elbowed him, nearly missing and losing my balance on the stool. Ethan laughed, his hand bracing my back. Our eyes met as the tender brush of his fingers lingered before slowly pulling away. Daniel and the other infielders hovered behind us, intrigued by the conversation that made Ethan laugh. 

Felipe held his new glass precariously as he leaned against Daniel. 

"Was he as obnoxious about his music taste back then too?" Daniel said. 

Felipe took another shot of tequila before slurring his words, "What about his home-run records? I had a bet with Richie that I did more in high school."

Ethan laughed nervously. "I actually like most of his music. And I wouldn't remember his records."

I scoffed. "I for sure beat Felipe."

He shook his head. "I need proof, man. I'm not accepting your word for it."

"You could probably search it up online."

"True." Felipe held one of his shot glasses up in the form of cheers. Daniel raised his water glass, watching Felipe down another one with a grimace. How he was still standing, I wasn't sure. "Alright, see y'all on the dance floor."

"He's a goner," Eric mumbled as Felipe sauntered away, swaying his hips to the sound of what I assumed was an early 2000s rap song. "Someone keep an eye on him."

Marco sighed. "I guess I will. Can't promise you I'll stop him from running off, though."

Kenji shook his head. "So long as he makes it to the bus in the morning, we're good."

Ethan's hand found mine under the table, squeezing it as Kenji and the others talked. None of them seemed to notice or care, even though it appeared obvious with how close we were sitting. 

I had never purposely tried to hide my sexuality, and while it had been easy to brush it off with the guys when we breached the subject, I wondered how easy it would be to come out and say it to them. The bar was not the best choice, nor did I want to be inebriated to say it, but with how free and open they were to talk to Ethan in the first place, it didn't seem like an impossible feat. 

It wasn't like they weren't supportive. I trusted these guys with my life. 

However, I couldn't imagine putting Ethan into the spotlight like that; the guys would undoubtedly assume that we were dating, which, while was true in the past, I wasn't entirely certain where Ethan and I stood. Aside from the hand-holding, hugs, and one-cheek kiss, we hadn't addressed the status of our relationship. 

For all I know, Ethan enjoyed being single and keeping me as a friend, a fact that I would have no choice but to accept and appreciate that we may keep in touch after this weekend. On the other hand, I would've loved to pick off where we started nearly four years ago.

I'd ask him back in the hotel room if I could remember, the shots and mixed drinks proving to be stronger than I anticipated. How many had I had; I couldn't remember.

Felipe ordered two doubles, handing me one, but Ethan slid it away.

"Cam, maybe you should lay off the alcohol for now. We still gotta make it back to the hotel." He patted my arm. "You know I can't carry you."

"Oh, shush, babe," my words spilled out in a slurred mess, the alcohol kicking in stronger than I would have liked. 

The boys turned to me like I had grown a second head before I realized what I had said. Babe. I called Ethan, babe. Oh, boy, that is the worst way to bring up that conversation. I was not sober enough for that. 

But no one said anything at first. Sober Cameron would have freaked out about it, worried that whatever they wanted to say was unpleasant. And then, Felipe cursed. I hated that I flinched at his tone, but he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and yanking a few bills from it. He tossed it at Eric, who had the biggest grin on his face. Half the team slowly pulled out cash from their pockets, groaning as they handed Eric what I assumed was bet money.

I pinned a glare at him—or as best I could with the alcohol in my system. "What the—"

"Damn it, Darnell," Marco told our catcher, slapping a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

Eric smirked. "And all of you thought my gaydar was wrong. The audacity; pay up, boys."

I blinked. "You bet on me?"

Kenji barked out a laugh as he leaned over Eric's back. "We suspected something the minute we saw you two in the lobby."

Daniel scowled, placing his money begrudgingly in Eric's hands. "I wasn't going to assume. For all I know, you two could've been adopted siblings; I wasn't going to ask or assume shit."

"Well..." I glanced at Ethan. "Technically, we aren't..."

"Together," Ethan finished with a nervous laugh.

Eric raised a brow with an incredulous look. 

"We, um..." I cleared my throat. "Were..."

I gasped as the speakers closest to the bar started blasting our song requests. A perfect distraction from the questioning stares from my team. "Let's go."

"Oh, no," Ethan said as I pulled him toward the center of the room. "I can't dance." 

"Who said anything about dancing?" I held my hands up to gesture around the room, but each move was sluggish, the alcohol kicking in. "Taylor night at the sports bar? No dancing required."

Ethan laughed. "You're silly."

"I'm serious," I told him, making a face. "Come on, "All Too Well" is a banger. Just sing your heart out; I know you know all the words."

His hands grabbed mine, and it felt like we were back in my old Corolla for a moment, belting out Taylor Swift and realizing just how madly in love we were with each other. Like we weren't in a sports bar with my team. Or that we were in New York for the weekend ending in less than twenty-four hours. "I'm not good at singing either, Cam."

I scoffed. "And you think I am? Come on; it'll be fun."

He laughed as I swung our hands around, singing our hearts out—Ethan mostly lip-synced. At some point, Felipe and Kenji joined us, dancing terribly to "Love Story" and a few of her other more upbeat pop songs. 

Before we realized it, Ethan's last pick started playing "Back to December." 

"When did this become your favorite?" I swore this hadn't been in his favorites. Maybe in his playlists, but not ours.

His smile dropped, still there but with a touch of melancholy. "I listened to it a lot after graduation. It reminded me of what I had done, what I gave up, and how it would impact you. I thought about how I'd ever redeem myself—if I could even earn your forgiveness—and how I might be able to apologize to you. I wondered if I could take it all back. This song reminded me of you—and I think I clung to it, the memories and everything that reminded me of you."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding; the sincerity of his words was sobering. "Eth..."

"It..." He gulped, hands falling to his side. "It got me thinking that you really did give me everything, and what did I give in return? A goodbye—and a fairly shitty one at that."

I stepped closer to him; while I enjoyed the music, I wished it could be turned down a little. I was still feeling the effects of the alcohol but wished to ensure Ethan that I didn't think of him any less after graduation; I still cared about him and didn't blame him for any of the crap he felt he had to do.

"I thought about sending you this song," he continued. "I didn't trust myself to say everything and thought I could do it through music. A simple link in hopes my message could be heard."

I pulled him into my chest, releasing his hands to wrap my arms around him. He stilled, and while I should have asked to hug him first, the haze of drinking clouded my judgment, and all I wanted was to envelope him in a warm, safe—a shield from all the negativity. I mumbled an apology into his hair as we swayed to the last half of the song, the lyrics hitting me full force. 

"Wishful thinking," I whispered as the song went on. He didn't hear me, but Taylor's line about second chances and loving the person right the second time hit close to both of us. The silent question formed between us as the song played out, slowly transitioning to the next song another group suggested.

What if we did continue from where we left off? Would that really be wishful thinking?