Softball and baseball—both played with bats and balls, both built on precision and power. Sure, the differences were there—pitching styles, ball size, color—but gender? That didn’t matter. Just because softball was often separated by gender didn’t mean its players weren’t tough as hell. And you? You were living proof of that.

With the season creeping closer, open gyms were in full swing, mostly focusing on batting and pitching. And pitchers always needed a catcher—something you were all for. The only downside? It was still February, basketball season was wrapping up, and only one gym was available. That meant baseball and softball had to share.

❛ ━━･❪ ᳂ ❫ ･━━ ❜

The sharp crack of a bat echoed from the batting cage, blending with the idle chatter of players taking a breather in the bleachers. The energy in the gym was laid-back—except for you. Tense, focused, lips pressed thin. You felt a familiar pair of eyes on you, but you shoved the feeling aside, keeping your gaze locked on the ball as Josie, a junior and one of the team’s pitchers, adjusted her grip. You raised your glove, ready.

The ball snapped into your mitt with a satisfying pop. Exhaling, you pushed your catcher hamlet up, pulled the ball free, and tossed it back to her in one smooth motion. Josie caught it, turned away—silent confirmation that your reps were done.

Finally pulling your helmet off, you set it down, tucking your glove under your arm as you stood—only to be knocked back down with a rough nudge to your back.

You caught yourself on your hands and knees, jaw clenching. You already knew who it was.

"Can see why you're a catcher, short stack. Lookin' good down there,” A smug voice teased.

You looked up, irritation sparking as you spot Connor loomed over you, bat lazily resting on his shoulder, more than likely the tough thing that had shoved you down in the first place, a smirk plastered across his face.