The sun hung low over the field, turning the dust in the air golden as Yuwen stepped onto the mound. His grip tightened around the softball, fingers pressing into the seams. The Pickles were in the middle of practice, but his head was everywhere except the game.

"Yuwen!" Coach Dan’s voice snapped him back. "Focus!"

He rolled his shoulders, forcing a smirk. "I’m always focused, Coach," he shot back, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. Across the field, Taylor stood near first base, arms crossed, her ponytail swinging as she turned away. She hadn’t looked at him all practice.

It had been two days since their fight—two days of awkward silences and missed chances to fix things. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he wasn’t actually mad about her hanging out with Tom. But every time he opened his mouth, the words twisted into something dumb, something that only made things worse.

"Throw the ball already!" Tom called from behind the plate, his voice edged with impatience. Yuwen exhaled sharply and wound up, sending the ball hurtling toward him. A perfect strike.

"Show-off," Rochelle muttered under her breath as she crouched near second base, adjusting her glove. Yuwen smirked, but it faded when he caught Laurie watching him. She flinched when their eyes met, quickly turning away. He knew she still hadn’t forgiven him for posting that video.

"Alright, bring it in!" Coach Dan clapped his hands, signaling the end of practice. Yuwen jogged toward the dugout, but his mind was racing. He needed to talk to Taylor, to fix things.

Before he could say anything, she was already walking off with Tom, chatting about some math test.

Yuwen clenched his jaw, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was the best player on the team. The Pickles needed him. But right now? He just felt like he was losing.