More Than Rivals

Chapter 8: Something Has Changed

By Wednesday, Toby had become a habit.

An irritating one.

But a habit nonetheless.

I had gotten used to seeing him outside my lecture hall, usually leaning against the wall with his backpack hanging from one shoulder and that infuriating smile already waiting for me.

I had gotten used to the messages.

Where are you?

Library?

Don't tell me you're studying without me.

I know you're ignoring me.

And, somehow, I had gotten used to answering them.

That was the part I didn't understand.

A few weeks ago, I had actively looked for ways to avoid him.

Now, I found myself checking my phone more often than I wanted to admit.

Which was ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

Toby Hayes was supposed to be the guy I couldn't stand.

Not the guy whose messages made me smile at my phone like an i***t.

I was determined to fix that.

Unfortunately, Toby wasn't making it easy.

"You're doing it again."

I looked up from my phone.

"Doing what?"

"Smiling."

I immediately stopped.

"I wasn't."

Toby dropped into the chair across from me in the library.

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You were smiling at your phone."

"I was reading something."

"Funny?"

"Yes."

"What?"

I locked my phone.

"None of your business."

He leaned back.

"Interesting."

"What?"

"You're keeping secrets from me."

I rolled my eyes.

"Not everything is about you."

"Most things are."

"Your ego needs professional help."

He laughed.

"Probably."

I went back to my notes.

He opened his textbook.

For about ten minutes, we actually studied.

Then Toby whispered, "I'm hungry."

I ignored him.

"Zikora."

Nothing.

"Zikora."

I kept writing.

"Zikora."

"What?"

He smiled.

"Nothing."

I stared at him.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

The words were so casual that I almost missed them.

I looked at him.

He was already looking down at his textbook.

Something about the confidence in his voice made my stomach tighten.

I quickly looked away.

"You're delusional."

"Maybe."

I tried to focus on my notes again.

It didn't work.

---

We left the library around six.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the buildings, painting the campus in warm gold.

Students were everywhere.

Some were heading to dinner.

Others were making their way toward the stadium.

Friday's game was approaching, and apparently, the entire baseball team had decided that nobody on campus was allowed to forget it.

Toby walked beside me.

"You coming Friday?"

I looked at him.

"To the game?"

"Yeah."

I smiled.

"You ask me that every time."

"Because I like hearing you say yes."

I looked ahead.

"I've been to your games before."

"I know."

"Then why are you asking?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Because I'd like you there again."

I glanced at him.

He was staring straight ahead.

There was no teasing smile.

No sarcastic comment.

He sounded completely serious.

"Okay," I said.

He looked at me.

"I'll be there."

His smile appeared.

"Good."

"Don't make it a big deal."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm just happy."

I laughed.

"You sound like a child."

"Maybe."

We continued walking.

Then Toby said, "You know what you should do?"

"No."

"You should wear my jersey."

I stopped.

He took another step before realizing I wasn't beside him.

He turned.

"What?"

I stared at him.

"Your jersey?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

He walked back toward me.

"It would look good on you."

I raised an eyebrow.

"That's your reason?"

"One of them."

"What are the others?"

He smiled.

"I'm still thinking."

I shook my head.

"You're unbelievable."

"So that's a no?"

"I'll think about it."

His smile widened.

"I'll take that."

"You shouldn't."

He laughed.

We started walking again.

Neither of us noticed Marcus standing near the entrance of the student center.

But Marcus noticed us.

And he wasn't smiling.

---

"You're getting too comfortable."

Toby looked up from his phone.

Marcus was sitting across from him in the locker room.

"What?"

"With her."

Toby frowned.

"Who?"

Marcus gave him a look.

"Don't do that."

Toby sighed.

"Zikora?"

"Obviously."

Toby shoved his phone into his pocket.

"She's my friend."

"Yeah."

Marcus leaned back.

"That's what you keep saying."

"Because it's true."

"Is it?"

Toby stared at him.

"What is your problem?"

"My problem is that you seem to have forgotten why you started all this."

Toby's expression changed.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Then remember."

Marcus lowered his voice.

"Five hundred dollars."

Toby looked away.

"And the condition."

Toby's jaw tightened.

"She has to say it first."

"I know."

"Then stop acting like you're in a relationship."

"We're not in a relationship."

"You take her everywhere."

"She's my friend."

"You text her all the time."

"She's my friend."

"You know her coffee order."

Toby went quiet.

Marcus smiled.

"Exactly."

Toby stood.

"I'm not doing anything wrong."

"I didn't say you were."

"Then what are you saying?"

Marcus looked at him.

"Don't forget that this started as a bet."

Toby stared at him.

"I know."

"Good."

Marcus stood too.

"Because if you start actually falling for her, you're going to have a problem."

Toby laughed.

"I'm not falling for her."

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Then why are you getting defensive?"

Toby didn't answer.

Because he didn't have one.

---

Friday came faster than I expected.

By late afternoon, campus was buzzing.

The baseball stadium was already filling up.

I had planned to go with two girls from my class, but one of them had an assignment due that night, and the other had suddenly decided she was too tired.

So I went alone.

I told myself I didn't care.

It wasn't a big deal.

I'd been to Toby's games before.

This wasn't different.

Except it was.

Because the moment I walked into the stadium, I found myself looking for him.

I spotted him on the field.

He was warming up with the team.

His uniform fit him annoyingly well.

He looked different when he played.

Focused.

Serious.

All the joking disappeared.

I found a seat near the front.

A few minutes later, Toby looked toward the stands.

His eyes moved across the crowd.

Then they stopped.

On me.

Even from that distance, I could see his face change.

He smiled.

I smiled back.

Then I realized what I was doing.

I quickly looked away.

Why was I acting like this?

The game started.

And Toby played like he had something to prove.

Every time he made a good play, I found myself cheering.

When his team scored, I stood with everyone else.

At one point, Toby looked toward the stands again.

Straight at me.

He grinned.

I shook my head.

He laughed.

It was ridiculous.

But I couldn't stop smiling.

By the end of the game, his team had won.

Students flooded onto the field.

Toby disappeared into the crowd.

I waited.

I wasn't sure why.

I could've left.

But I stayed.

A few minutes later, someone tapped my shoulder.

I turned.

Toby was standing behind me.

His hair was damp with sweat, and he was breathing heavily.

"You stayed."

I smiled.

"Of course."

He looked genuinely pleased.

"You came."

"I said I would."

"Still."

He shook his head.

"Thank you."

"You played well."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smiled.

"I was looking for you."

I blinked.

"What?"

"In the stands."

I looked away.

"There were a lot of people."

"I know."

He stepped closer.

"But I was looking for you."

My heart skipped.

I forced a laugh.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know."

That answer somehow felt more dangerous than if he'd given me one.

Before I could respond, one of his teammates called his name.

"Toby!"

He turned.

"Coming!"

Then he looked back at me.

"I'll see you later?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He started walking away.

Then turned around.

"And wear my jersey next time."

I laughed.

"Goodbye, Toby."

He grinned.

"That's not a no."

I shook my head as he walked away.

I watched him disappear into the crowd.

Then I touched my cheek.

It was warm.

Great.

Just great.

---

Later that night, Toby sat alone in his room.

His phone was in his hand.

He had a message from me.

You played really well tonight.

He smiled.

Then another message appeared.

And no, I'm not wearing your jersey.

He laughed.

He typed back.

We'll see.

He put the phone down.

Then stared at the ceiling.

He should have been thinking about the game.

His father.

Baseball.

The upcoming season.

The class he was still struggling with.

The five hundred dollars he'd win if he completed the bet.

Instead, he was thinking about me sitting in the stands.

The way I'd smiled when he looked at me.

The way I'd stayed after everyone else started leaving.

The way she'd said, Of course.

He picked up his phone again.

Opened our conversation.

Typed something.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

Deleted it.

Finally, he locked his phone.

"What am I doing?"

He knew the answer.

He just didn't want to say it.

Because somewhere between the first argument and the late-night study sessions, something had shifted.

The bet was still there.

The five hundred dollars was still waiting.

The rules hadn't changed.

But Toby had.

And that was becoming a problem.

---

I didn't know any of that.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the game.

Thinking about Toby.

Thinking about the way he'd looked at me from across the stadium.

I smiled into my pillow.

Then immediately frowned.

"No."

I rolled onto my side.

"He is my friend."

I said it out loud, as if hearing it would make it more convincing.

My phone buzzed.

I grabbed it.

Toby: Goodnight, Z.

I smiled.

Me: Goodnight.

I put my phone down.

Five seconds later, I picked it back up.

I stared at our conversation.

Then smiled again.

Something had changed.

I just didn't know what to call it yet.