Page 46 of Switch Hitter

Of course he asks me that; he’s still scared, but he’s thinking about me anyway.

Emiliano

I’m good. Just got home and heating up some food.

My question is are you okay?

Sean

I think so.

I’m just… overthinking.

I lean back against the counter, phone in my hand, typing with the same calm I use on the mound when the bases are loaded.

Emiliano

You’re allowed to overthink.

I just don’t want you doing anything irrational.

He replies almost instantly.

Sean

I saw something on Instagram.

My jaw tightens because I can only imagine the shit people are saying. While I may have seen posts that don’t really care, his algorithm might be different.

Emiliano

Send it to me.

A screenshot appears.

There’s a blurry photo of him and me. The caption: “Why tf is the Mets ace sharing a booth with the Coyotes LF?” Then the endless speculative comments.

Even seeing it makes me want to hunt down whoever posted it and ask them why they don’t have hobbies.

Sean’s next text comes fast.

Sean

Is this gonna be a big thing?

Are we gonna be a big thing?

I stare at the questions and try to decide how to answer because the honest answer is “it could be”; we could be.

It depends on what the world decides it wants. New York is hungry, and baseball is big. Not to mention, people love drama. They love a good story. They love to put men in boxes and then shake the box until something breaks.

But also I’m tired of pretending I’m supposed to be afraid of a truth that makes me happy. So I type the only thing that matters.

Emiliano

Only if we let it be. I’m not ashamed of you.

His typing bubble appears and disappears like he’s trying to decide if he’s allowed to accept that.