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The overhead lights were so bright—they seemed to spotlight Samm perfectly where he was hunched over, head in his hands.
“Oh, gods. Are you crying?” Vel’s words scraped almost painfully against the back of her throat—she barely had any voice left. “Are you? Look at me.”
When he failed to obey, and in fact started shaking his head just as fiercely as his shoulders, to keep her from seeing the telltale signs, Vel's famous temper flared and she started toward him, “There’s no place to hide! Come on, look at me!”
“Vel.” A familiar hand fell on her shoulder, stopping her just shy of taking the boy by the collar to slap away those tears. And when she turned back to look at Cinta—she was reminded of their plans for after the game.
That none of this—not the lights, the fans, the umps making all the wrong calls, not even the jeering Imps around the field. None of it mattered as much as the warmth that burst like fireworks in her chest whenever Cinta kissed her. Or gave her one of those meaningful looks just before swinging for the fences.
“We’ll never defeat Empire if all you do is sit around here crying like some whining, simpering, foolish child.” Vel snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously.
“Just—just sub Cassian in for me.” Samm croaked, sounding pathetic as he tried to suck all that phlegm and moisture back up. “M-maybe with him, we’ve still got a chance.”
“Don’t you dare.” Vel pointed a warning finger, and was satisfied when the boy bit his lip to hold back another unseemly whimper.
The disappointed ahhhing of the crowd told Vel they were running out of time—and a moment later this was confirmed when Dilan came stomping back into the dugout with his head hanging low.
And distantly, Vel could hear the umpire calling for the next batter.
“Well? What’s it gonna be?” Cinta asked pointedly as she tugged one of the bats down from the rack. She always managed to do that—keep everybody focused. Smooth over hurts that Vel just wanted to pretend weren’t there.
Her uniform was dirtier than most. And several wisps of her thick dark hair had come free of her ponytail, plastered in curls around her crown. She’d been playing so hard—
Vel wanted more than anything to shower her with the sort of rewards befitting such a blooded, fearless warrior. Her champion.
“Batter!”
Vel snagged Samm by the scruff and hauled him to his feet. Wincing against the unpleasant scrape of his cleats on the cement.
“Get your ass out there!”
Cinta handed over the slugger and then fixed Vel with a smile as radiant as the sun as she sauntered over to stand beside her.
And Vel’s fury seemed to abate just a little. She wanted very much to sling an arm casually around Cinta's shoulders. But that would have to wait.
Until after they pounded the Empire scum the way they deserved and all the spectators went home satisfied.
Leaving them to their own devices.
“Kids these days.” Vel grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, watching Samm lumbering over to the plate.
“He’ll be fine.” Cinta said warmly. And then jostled Vel just a little with her shoulder, as if she was feeling that ache for touch just a little too. “It always helps when they know how much you care.”
Vel harrumphed and raised her voice.
“Hey, kid!”
Samm froze and glanced back, his cheeks still ridiculously red.
“Don’t forget—there’s no crying in baseball!”