I paused to catch my breath at the base of the stone steps of what I hoped was Remi's house. Impeccably landscaped beds of yellow poppies and perfect white gardenias surrounded the Spanish style house. I stood there red faced and mouth breathing, obviously I had miscalculated how easy the walk up the hill would be. Pulling the sweaty strands of hair off my forehead, I considered leaving the phone on the steps and running away. I could already hear Taylor laughing as I recounted the story later. He's gonna know it was you, dummy.
A few moments passed and my breathing returned to normal, so I rapped the brass knocker on the thick wood door. Remi opened the door sporting a headset and a game controller in his hand, wearing only joggers, no shirt. I nearly choked on spit. He smiled and muted the mic on his headset.
"You walked all the way up here?" he asked. He stuck his head out the arched doorway looking for signs of a car.
"Yeah," I admitted, trying not to stare at his smoothly sculpted chest.
"You should have called. It's nearly a mile uphill." He seemed impressed.
No shit, I thought, handing him his cell phone.
"Thanks. I've been looking for that all day. Figured I left it in Dad's truck or something."
"Someone's been trying to reach you." The phone buzzed again.
"My dad," he said, scrolling through all the missed calls. "Come in for a minute. Almost done with this game, and then I'll drive you back."
Remi texted his dad as he led me through the spotless living room that smelled like lemons, and to his bedroom at the top of the stairs.
"You play Fortnite?" he asked.
"Uh, no." I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the smell of sweaty leather and stale socks that accosted me when we entered the room.
"You mind if I finish this mission? It'll only take a sec."
"Sure, go ahead."
Remi tossed clothes off the futon for me to sit. Dodgers posters lined the royal blue walls of three quarters of the room. The fourth wall held a trophy case filled with Little League trophies and pictures. The sheets of the bed hung on the floor haphazardly, alongside the piles of clothes.
I felt uncomfortable sitting there while he talked to his gamer friends in his headset, so I wondered over to inspect the trophy case. Plastic gold batters mounted on marble propped up pictures of little Remi and his teammates throughout the years. A signed baseball rested in a glass mug with the words "Home Run MVP" etched on it.
"Done. Sorry about that," Remi said, signing off the game.
"No problem," I said. "I never pegged you for a gamer, though."
"I game, but not like seriously or anything. Just fooling around."
"Not as serious as baseball, apparently." I nodded to the display case.
"No," Remi laughed. He picked up a ball and started tossing it in the air. "I'm very serious about baseball."
"That's what the #32 is on your phone case?"
"Yeah. Actually #32 was Sandy Koufax." Remi pointed to a poster of a young pitcher in a Dodgers uniform.
"The Left Arm of God," I read the poster out loud.
"Youngest player to ever be elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame," Remi said. "I met him when I was ten. He had just thrown the first pitch for opening season at Dodger Stadium at seventy-seven years old. I told my dad that I wanted to be like him someday."
YOU ARE READING
Pillars
Teen FictionFor as long as Kelci can remember she has always wanted to be an actress. Her sister, Lorin's, harsh critiques and the fact that her father abandoned her when she was a toddler fuels her self-doubt. The only thing she is sure about is acting. When s...
