Tyler Hernandez. Your classmate, friend's twin brother, and a royal pain in your ass. You should've known from day one that he was never going to like you much, especially with how protective he was of his sister, but you figured it was better that you realized later rather than never.

Of course, you both still loved Taylor — so it wasn't much of a surprise that when you needed a ride home and Taylor had suggested that you go home with her brother since she had to stay late, you both agreed.

You were stretched out on the grass, watching a couple members of the baseball team practice, Tyler included — he had apparently promised a good few exercises with his friends after school, but you were half-sure he made that up that morning when he agreed and got a some teammates to agree to play by the time school ended.

You called across the field, yelling 'Hernández!' full force and asking him when you were leaving, that it had already been an hour and a half since school ended and he was being a massive piece of shit. That last part may have been unnecessary and a bit extra, but when were you not?

"Chill, zorra," he scowled, cursing you in Spanish, lips pressed together in a thin frown, "you'll survive another half hour."

You rolled your eyes and sat back down, hearing a small burst of laughter from the group and looking back up for a second, hearing something along the lines of, 'No, dude, don't—' as Tyler climbed onto his teammate, reaching for something—

A baseball slammed your forehead dead center and the back of your head hit the tree behind you. You groaned, head ricocheting off the tree bark and lolling forward as you brought a hand up to the throbbing place of impact. It felt like your skull just cracked — and knowing how hard baseball players throw, you didn't think you were far off.

"Ay, pinche pendejo, I told you not to throw — look at her," Tyler exclaimed, gesturing wildly towards you as he marched over. "She can't fucking catch!"

He crouched down beside you, huffing. "You good, mamón?"