Picturing Different

by Nikki Kwiatkowski

  Tripp: Guess you won’t be at the game if you’re sick. Wonder who they’ll get to cover it for the paper.

  Ashlyn’s thoughts immediately went to Grace. She knew that Tripp wasn’t interested in Grace, or at least he wasn’t that day on his lawn. After the coldness between the two of them in the last two days, she couldn’t be sure if Tripp had given up on her and decided to cut his losses and move on. She hated the jealousy that ran through her at those thoughts.

  She hit at her screen harder than necessary.

  Ashlyn: I’ll be there. Can we meet up after?

  Tripp: I don’t know if that’s a good idea.

  Ashlyn dropped her phone inside her bag and quickly tore at the toilet paper on the side of the stall, managing to get enough to cover her face before the tears fell.

  Of all the times she cried over the stupid fights with Eric, none of those felt like how she felt now. Though a tiny part of her wanted to give up, a bigger part, a much bigger part, knew that what Tripp said to her that day about his feelings, it wasn’t one-sided.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Hey, you ready,” Deacon asked, as Tripp fiddled with his laces.

  Tripp sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

  Deacon sat on the locker room bench near Tripp. Most of the players had started to dwindle out of the locker room to the dugout. He rubbed the back of his neck. Though he wasn’t big on talking, he’d make a bit of an exception.

  “Ellis told me that Ash is here to–”

  “Stop,” Tripp interrupted him. “That’s not helping any.”

  “Ugh. I can’t believe I’m talking about this crap,” Deacon groaned.

  Tripp turned to Deacon with narrowed eyes. Suddenly Deacon looked uncomfortable and sick.

  “Look,” Deacon began with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what’s going to happen between you two, and now that I see how the both of you are, I get why she never told you this.”

  “Told me what,” Tripp quickly asked. His eyes were now wide with anticipation.

  “Eric was a manipulative jerk to her. He even tried to get her to stop being friends with Emory, because of a few stupid comments she made. I guess Ash really liked you and she didn’t want you to have to deal with him.”

  Tripp shook his head, not fully understanding, knowing that Deacon was leaving out a chunk of the story. “I don’t get what any of that–”

  “Eric thought that Ash broke up with him to be with somebody else. He threatened her, well, not so much her, but he told her that if he ever saw her with another guy…” Deacon’s words drifted off, hoping that Tripp understood.

  “That this would happen,” Tripp finished as he motioned over his face.

  Deacon nodded.

  “So that’s why she pushed me away for so long.”

  Deacon snapped his fingers remembering something. “Oh, and the thing with Eric Saturday? She found out that he stole some baseball from her father, and she wanted to confront him about that. I mean, I know that doesn’t make up for not being there for–”

  “It’s forgotten,” Tripp interrupted, still trying to process everything.

  More than anything, he was hurt. He didn’t understand why Ashlyn couldn’t have told him all of that herself. It seemed so small now.

  “Anyway, I don’t do this,” Deacon grumbled, motioning from himself to Tripp. “That’s all I got.”

  After putting all that information in a file to go over after the game, “Curious, where did you get all that?”

  Deacon rolled his eyes and his cheeks turned a little red. “Ash told Emory. Emory told Ellis. Ellis told me.”

  “I’m surprised Emory didn’t just tell you,” Tripp scoffed.

  “We’re not talking lately. Ever since she started dating some dude from Halshire, she’s been a pain.” Deacon stood and cracked his neck. His annoyed face softened. “Ready?”

  Tripp was just about to ask another question but decided against it. That was hands down the most Deacon had ever spoken to him. It was probably his quota for the month, so Tripp decided not to push it.

  Chapter 38

  “I can’t even watch this anymore,” Ellis groaned as the bottom of the third inning started and Tripp took his first strike.

  “Then don’t,” Emory spat. “Go see Abby and stop your complaining.”

  “He’s just so bad today.”

  Ashlyn’s eyebrows were clenched together, and she bit at her bottom lip. Tripp had never played like this before. Even in the distance, the little she could see of his face, she knew something was off. That playful look in his eyes and that cocky grin was replaced with a mix of confusion and seriousness that she couldn’t recall ever seeing on Tripp’s face.

  Ashlyn’s eyes fell to the rows of stands in front of her as a gruff voice called a second strike. She recognized so many people at the game. The one person she was thankful hadn’t noticed her was Tripp’s dad. He was buried away on his phone, completely ignoring the game.

  A couple rows away, she caught several girls, Grace amongst them, glaring at her. She wanted to jump up and scream. She wasn’t the one out on the field. She wasn’t the one at bat.

  She wasn’t sure what surged through her when she heard a third strike called, but she immediately rose from her place between Emory and Kayla and rushed down the stands toward the sidewalk that ran along the fence to the field.

  Ashlyn didn’t know what she was going to say to Tripp at that moment. She hadn’t even planned on what she would say if or when they met after the game. All she did know was that she had a sick feeling that if she didn’t see him and say something now, he was going to blow a rather important game.

  Once Tripp made his way near her, heading back toward the entry to the dugout, Ashlyn began hollering his name, pressing herself as close to the fence as possible.

  Tripp glanced in the distance toward the stands, but before his eyes got there, they landed on Ashlyn standing at the fence surrounding the field, her hands clasped in the large wires. He quickly brought his attention toward his coach, who gave him a very displeased look, but nodded for him to take care of whatever it was.

  Hesitantly, with nerves finding their way into his throat, Tripp jogged off the field.

  “What are you doing,” he growled once he was a couple feet away from Ashlyn. He now slowed his steps, unsure how close he wanted to get. It was the first time he had really gotten to see her and talk to her in days.

  “More importantly, what are you doing out there?”

  Tripp took off his helmet and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which now appeared much darker with sweat. Trying not to come across as too hostile, Tripp simply shrugged. With an expressionless face, “Don’t worry about me.”

  “But I do,” Ashlyn stressed.

  Tripp met her eyes and he could see the sincerity in those gorgeous blue eyes he had fallen so hard for. He had wanted space, some more time, to just be annoyed with her for a little longer. Then Deacon had to unload all of that on him right before the game, and now here she was, as close to him as she could get at the moment.

  A playful glimmer came to Ashlyn’s eyes when Tripp didn’t tell her to get lost or walk away himself. “Remember in the hall when you wanted to make a bet?”

  Tripp narrowed his eyes and softly bit at his bottom lip.

  When he didn’t answer her, “Do you remember that conversation?”

  “I remember every conversation with you,” he answered a little too quickly.

  In the pit of her stomach, Ashlyn felt something which might be dangerously close to hope, the hope that things could be repaired.

  “I accept. Only, with the way you’re playing, it doesn’t even have to be a home run, just get a hit! For every hit–”

  Attempting to make her sweat a little, Tripp interrupted her. “Now who’s the overconfident one. What makes you think I still want that?” He took a few steps closer to the fence separating them. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but–�
�

  “I’m trying to make you happy!”

  Narrowing his eyes at her once again, “Why do you care if I’m happy, Ash?”

  She wasn’t prepared for what she was about to say, but it slipped out so easily, to the point that she surprised even herself. “Because I love you.” When Tripp’s eyes widened and his mouth went slightly agape, Ashlyn knew that she couldn’t let those words linger for long. “And…And I care about this game for you…I know…It’s important. With the scouts and all…And–”

  “Stop.” Tripp took a step or two more toward her and he covered one of her hands that was linked in the fence with his. He leaned in so that the only thing more than a breath separating them was the wires of the fence. “You can bet that we’re definitely going to talk after the game.”

  Tripp squeezed at her hand for just a split second before pushing off and turning from her, heading back to the dugout.

  Ashlyn stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the intensity that was written across Tripp’s face when he said that. Her stomach flipped and she thought she might pass out from his touch that still lingered across her fingers.

  Then a realization hit her. She had just told a boy that she loved him.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Somewhere between then and the end of the fifth inning, Tripp must have found himself, and was back with a vengeance. At the end of the second, they were losing four to one. Now both teams were tied at five to five; however, Tripp couldn’t take all of that credit. He had only gotten one tremendously good hit, enough to bring two players in, but it was Byron who got a home run shortly after.

  “What happened to you,” Deacon scoffed as they began to take the field for the beginning of the sixth.

  “What do you mean,” Tripp asked, with a slight smile that seemed to never leave him now.

  “You look like you’ve just chugged a barrel of coffee.”

  Tripp laughed and headed in the direction of first base as Deacon made his way into the outfield. “I’m just…happy,” he replied with a shrug.

  He couldn’t believe how pathetic he was, but seeing Ashlyn, hearing those words, it did something to him. All his frustrations, with her, his father, worrying about the scouts, none of it seemed to matter. Knowing that Ashlyn had never told her boyfriend of two years that, but could tell him after only knowing him for two months, that made him believe that anything was possible, and any of his worries faded at that point.

  At the bottom of the sixth, Tripp took his place on the field. Louis, a senior, had just gotten an out, after failing to make it to first; however, Deacon on third had made it in.

  After messing up badly at the beginning, Tripp had watched the opponent’s pitching techniques intently. While it was absolutely impossible for anyone to get a home run every time they went up to bat, he was more certain than ever that he could get a good hit, especially if he decided to be the one throwing a curveball.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “What is he doing,” Ellis gasped, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  Ashlyn was equally confused as Tripp took his place at bat, on the other side of home plate. Was he confused? He always batted right.

  Emory choked on her soda. “Are you kidding me right now? How long was he waiting to show this off?”

  Ashlyn and Tripp rarely talked about baseball. She knew what was in his repertoire based on what she had seen at games. While it wasn’t completely uncommon, she was pretty sure that no one on their team was a switch hitter. Looking farther onto the field, she could tell that the pitcher was equally confused.

  Despite how he played at first, the opposing team now knew he could not only hit a ball, he could bat either way.

  Ashlyn couldn’t imagine what would make Tripp suddenly switch now. It had to have been something he saw in the pitching, something telling him that he’d have a better shot this way.

  When the ball and bat collided in a familiar clank, she held her breath. Waiting. She shook her head and cursed under her breath as the biggest smile came to her face.

  Emory jumped and screamed and sloshed soda all over Ellis, despite knowing that there was still more than an inning left.

  “What is wrong with you? You’re such a Neanderthal,” Ellis scoffed, wiping shards of ice off his wet and sticky jeans.

  “Oh, shut up, Ellis!”

  Screaming ensued around them as the announcer on the speaker yelled out that it was another home run for Raymere Grove.

  They would end up winning nine to six by the end of the seventh inning.

  Chapter 39

  As everyone in the stands began rushing out, Ashlyn held back, allowing the crowd to pass, knowing that she needed to see Tripp anyway. Immediately after their win, most of the guys, knowing they’d be going to celebratory dinners, scurried away to the locker room to quickly clean up and change. Tripp was one of them.

  “I wonder if that’s one of the scouts,” Kayla nodded, as she grabbed her purse and stood, finally getting the chance to stretch.

  Ashlyn looked in the direction Kayla had motioned toward, only to see Tripp’s father shaking hands with a man in dress pants and a polo shirt with an emblem Ashlyn recognized well. Cartwright University.

  It was the best university in the state, and not too far away. Most of the students who were lucky enough to get in, or lucky enough to afford it, were able to visit home on the weekends. When Ashlyn interviewed Kyler West, that’s what he said one of his biggest reasons for accepting was, despite having full rides to several universities across the country.

  “You good,” Emory asked before leaving.

  Ashlyn nodded. There were still several people lingering about the stands. She knew that if Mr. Scott was present, chances were that Tripp would be around soon.

  Another ten minutes passed, and when Ashlyn’s phone dinged, she nearly dropped the thing with how quickly she reached for it.

  Tripp: Where are you?

  Ashlyn: The bleachers.

  Tripp couldn’t get out of the field house fast enough, so much so, that he wasn’t even sure if he had gotten all of the bodywash off his skin.

  There were several groups of adults lingering around the stands and field, probably parents waiting to take their sons to a late dinner. Once Tripp saw Ashlyn, halfway up the stands, all those other bodies faded. His heart raced more than ever before as he neared her.

  “Son,” a voice called from nearby, startling Tripp.

  He looked over to see his father talking with some older man he didn’t know.

  “Hey, dad.”

  “There’s someone I’d like for you to meet,” Ronan began, motioning toward the man with him.

  Tripp wasn’t sure how long that would take. Seeing the look on his father’s face, he could easily assume that he’d have to stand there and say more than a couple pleasantries.

  “Yeah, sure.” Tripp glanced up to where Ashlyn was now standing, grabbing her bag and camera. “Just give me a second.”

  Ronan’s eyes went to where his son’s had, and his pleased face went dark. “Tripp,” was all he said, but it was the way he said it that put the slightest bit of fear in Tripp.

  Normally Tripp would have done whatever his father wanted at the snap of his fingers. “Dad,” he began, trying to remain polite in front of the stranger. “This will only take a few seconds.”

  “See to it that it does.”

  Without another glance to his dad, Tripp rushed down the sidewalk and up the closest aisle leading to Ashlyn, who was already coming out of her row to the stairs.

  “Hey,” he greeted, slowing his steps to a more cautious pace the closer they got to each other.

  Ashlyn glanced to Tripp’s father. Although he was talking with the man from Cartwright, he appeared to be staring daggers at her.

  Without saying the smallest of greetings, “I think your dad is waiting on you.”

  “So,” Tripp said, taking one more step so that only a single stair separated them. He then leaned into the railing running down
the aisle.

  “We can talk another time,” Ashlyn stressed.

  Tripp chuckled. Ashlyn knew that one well; it was laced with something that didn’t resemble humor. “Oh, Ash,” he sighed, shaking his head. He then met her gaze, forcing their eyes to lock together. “If you think you’re getting off that easily, you’re mistaken.” Before she could protest, “I only came here to ask you to wait a little longer. Then maybe we could go out to eat?”

  “But what about–”

  “Great,” Tripp exclaimed, turning from her and rushing back down the stairs. “Be right back.”

  There was no way that he was going to give her the chance to leave without talking to him, not after what she said.

  Tripp’s elation took a nosedive the closer he got to his father. The man wasn’t pleased. Tripp let out a breath of frustration. It was every bit of two minutes.

  Without so much as another word with his son, Ronan rushed into introductions. “Tripp, this is Mr. Granger from Cartwright University. Mr. Granger, this is my son, Tripp Scott.”

  The man held out his hand and Tripp took it firmly, noting how the corners of the man’s mouth tipped up as he did so.

  “Nice to meet you,” Tripp said, wanting to beat Mr. Granger to the inevitable response.

  “It’s a pleasure. You boys played quite well.”

  Trying his best not to mumble with the uncomfortable feeling in the air, “Thank you.”

  “I must say, at first, when I saw you, I was sure I was watching a different Scott than the one I’ve heard so much praise about.”

  Tripp could feel his face heating at the remark. “I guess nerves got the best of me.” He laughed and gave a playful shrug.

  A quick glance to his father and he knew that he didn’t share the same thoughts. It was short, but he could see his father’s eyes dart behind him to where Ashlyn was sitting up in the bleachers.

  They continued to talk for what seemed like an eternity, but it wasn’t until Tripp saw Ashlyn walking down a nearby sidewalk out of the main gates, that a feeling of dread and anxiety hit Tripp.