At practice the next day, I can't take my mind off him. His cute little smirk, the way his eyes lit up as I handed him the shark plush. I can’t stop smiling, and I think the boys have started to notice that something’s off about me, that my whole vibe has changed. 

But, honestly? I couldn’t care less. 

Lately, it seems like Oscar is the only one I can talk to. And we don’t even talk about feelings very often. When I’m talking to Oscar, texting with him, on the phone at two in the morning, I can let out a breath that I’ve been holding since…. Well, since I can remember. 

Me and him, we just fit. 

As friends, of course. 

Not that I wouldn’t love if we were maybe more than that. But it’s not like he likes me, and maybe he’s not even gay. 

But, y'know, I’ve been thinking about what my Nana said, and after spending so much time with Oscar, or, more accurately, talking to Oscar, I have my confirmation. I’m pretty damn sure that I do, in fact, like like Oscar Reyes. 

He’s just so… so great. I’m not even completely sure how to describe him - he’s kind, considerate, and he has this kind of fire in his eyes that, before I met him, I thought only existed in those cheap romance novels that my Nana reads. 

But then I saw him talk about plants. The way his entire face lights up each time he tells me about a new succulent would be more than enough to make me fall for him, if I weren’t already hopelessly in love. 

Wait. 

I’m not in love with Oscar, okay? I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t just go from realizing I like like him to confessing my love for him. Right?

What I feel for Oscar - it’s just, like, a stupid teenage crush. Right?

“Where’d you go, Liam?” I blink back into reality, my face on fire, and realize I’m standing at home plate, a bat in my hand, but I’ve just completely ignored the ball Caleb pitched to me. 

“Ah, sorry, my bad! Rethrow, I’ll get it this time.” And when he throws it, it connects with the bat, but only just barely, and the ball doesn’t go very far before it lands with a satisfying smack in Josh’s glove. 

Finally, as we’re walking away from the final huddle, someone sidles up next to me. 

“Liam, hey.” It’s Matthew. He grabs my arm, fist wrapping around my elbow, trapping me. He hesitates. “...Can we talk?”

“Let go of me.” 

He does. I feel his fingers release me, and I must have tensed up, because my whole body relaxes. “I just want to talk, it’s been a while.” His eyes are pleading.

I sigh. “Talk about what, Matt?”

“About, you know, us. I just- I just-” he pauses, searching for the right thing to say. “I don’t think we left things very well.”

 “No shit. Are you trying to apologize to me? For what you did?” The memories come flooding back to me, and I can’t stop them. “We haven’t talked in a while for a reason. What makes you think I want to talk to you now?”

“Well, we just, we ended it so abruptly, didn’t we? And I never got an explanation?” He looks hopeful, like he doesn’t know exactly what he did. Like he doesn’t intimately know each and every way he broke my heart.

And I was over it. Over him. Until right now, when all the events of last year wash over me. But I’ve moved on to someone better. Oscar is superior to Matthew in every way. 

“Is that what you want? An explanation? I don’t owe you anything, Matthew. You know what you did.” It’s painful, just talking to him. “You’re an asshole. That’s all the explanation you need.”

And I walk away. 

I’ve never felt so powerful.

The feeling doesn’t last long.