“Go, Gunnar!” Poppy cheers from below, her small figure climbing the chain link fence surrounding home plate. Bear jumps up on his hind legs next to her, barking his support.

“You got this, babe!” I clap, adding my encouragement.

“Yeah, you got this, babe,” Linc mocks, ribbing Gunnar from where he warms up on deck.

Gunnar shoots him a glare before flipping the bird.

I chuckle at their usual banter.

“This could be the last bat, right?” Penny asks, her voice tinged with nervous excitement.

I nod, feeling my own tension mounting. “If Gunnar hits this and gets even one person home, it’s game over.”

Hollis gives my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Our odds are good.”

They are and Gunnar never misses a hit, but I still find myself nervous.

My breath stalls as he takes position, settling into his stance with determined focus.

The first pitch is thrown, forcing him to step forward, but he holds back from swinging.

“Ball!” the umpire calls out, causing me to sigh with relief.

“Good eye.” I applaud.

The catcher disagrees. “Come on, ump! Open your fucking eyes. That was clearly a strike.”

Gunnar turns to confront him, but the umpire intervenes, issuing a stern warning to the catcher.

“They need to chill,” Harlow says, annoyed. “This is for charity, for god’s sake. Not the major leagues.”

“Still Meadows has always been this way,” Penny adds, her frustration also evident. “I remember the school having to bring in security every time we played them because it always ended in a brawl. They’re the same team that jumped Dawson when his back was turned.”

I recall that game vividly and remember all hell breaking loose. Still Meadows is what some would call ‘upper class’. Most of its residents come from money, which, in turn, has led them to believe they are better than everyone else, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You’d think they would have grown up since then. Obviously, they haven’t.

I refocus on the game as the pitcher winds up for the next pitch. Gunnar swings this time but, unfortunately, hits a foul, sending it astray.

He shakes his head, frustrated at himself.

“Don’t sweat it,” I tell him. “This next one is yours.”

Before he has a chance to prove me right, the opposing team signals for a timeout.

As the umpire momentarily pauses the game, Linc shifts his attention toward us, leaning casually over the chain-link fence.

“Hey, Harlow,” he calls out, a mischievous grin spreading across his handsome face. “You gonna cheer me on when it’s my turn?”

Harlow meets his taunt with a steely glare. “In your dreams, Slimer,” she sneers, using the nickname she gave him back in elementary school.

He chuckles, enjoying the reaction he always gets from her.

The two have been rivals since childhood. It all started when Harlow’s parents purchased the house next door to Linc’s family, and it’s been that way ever since. Even after Harlow’s parents relocated them to the big city during her senior year, their rivalry persists, which makes things slightly complicated when we’re all together.

“God he’s annoying,” Harlow grumbles, continuing to glare at him. “I don’t know how Gunnar can tolerate being friends with him.”

I laugh, unable to suppress my amusement. “He’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” she protests incredulously. “He made my life a living hell throughout my entire childhood and well into my teens. If he wasn’t pelting me with water balloons in the summer, he was launching snowballs at me in the winter. I swear, he and his brothers were like ninjas, always lying in wait to ambush me. And that’s putting it mildly.”

“Okay, so he went a little overboard sometimes,” I admit. “But he’s a tease by nature. He can’t help himself. Besides, if memory serves me right, you gave just as good as you got.”

“That’s true,” Penny chimes in, backing up my claim. “I distinctly recall you decorating his bike at school with pink streamers, a flower basket, and Barbie stickers.”

I remember that too. Harlow’s retaliation for whatever Linc had done to her was both creative and memorable.

She chuckles at the memory, clearly proud of herself. Until she looks over to see my self-satisfied grin. “He started it,” she grumbles.

“He did,” I agree. “But that was a long time ago. People change.”

Harlow scoffs at the remark. “That man will never change. He will always enjoy torturing me.”

“Maybe you’re looking at this wrong,” Hollis interjects, offering another perspective. “Maybe there’s a reason behind it.”

Harlow’s brows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when I was in elementary school, if a boy teased you like that, it usually meant he liked you.”

Harlow laughs, the sound strained and a bit squeaky. “Trust me, that is not the case with us. Our hate for each other is very mutual.”

“Sometimes there’s a fine line between love and hate,” Hollis counters, holding nothing back. “Just look at Mike and me. I thought we hated each other. If it hadn’t been for your little manipulation at the bar that night all those months ago, I would have continued thinking that way.”

Harlow grimaces, not appreciating the reminder.

I jump in, redirecting the conversation back to its original topic. “Look, I know there is a lot of history with you two, and Linc is to blame for most of it.”

Harlow nods, dignified.

“But,” I add, “I’ve also spent a lot of time with him over the past few years, and I assure you, he’s not as bad as you remember. You should give him a chance to prove it.”

“How about I take your word for it instead?” she suggests, flashing me a cheeky smile.

I shake my head, but can’t hide my amusement. “All right. I give up.”

Chuckling, she wraps her arms around my neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll always tolerate him for you and Gunnar.”

I hug her back, appreciating that she and Penny both do because, despite the friction, I love our friend group and couldn’t imagine it any other way.

The umpire’s whistle pierces the air, calling for everyone to take their place again.