Author's note: If you don't understand this, I understand. It is dealing with a sport that involved underhand pitching so imagine that first and get a picture. Anyways this is always worth a shot for this pairing because I feel it should always be this way compared to a love-filled relationship

Gripping my lucky stick
The pressure is on
Bottom of the 7th
Down one, one out to go, one ready to return home at first base
Yet I’m the one facing her
The ace
The one who mowed down me twice with pitches above my head.
Stepping up to the plate
Her nails digging into the yellow flesh
As she puts the ball into the glove
Hiding the grip from me
I watched her eyes
These eyes I once loved before
Now I face them for one last time
She cocked back once and then tilted forward
Her arm rotated once with the ball coming like a fireball
I sit back as the sound of contact hit my ear
No sound.
I’m up in the count 1-0
Stepping out,
I see the coach clapping her hands
I returned to see the same wind up but reached out instead
Point of no return
1-1
Taking a few pretend contact swings
Before watching her arm crank another ball towards me
Sliding out of the way
The ball escapes the glove
My hand rose to advance the runner closer to home
2-1
Sitting in the same position
I extend my bat out only to see it flair towards the dugout
2-2
Stepping out one more time,
My hands instantly rubbed together
Before gripping the stick again
I watched one wiz over my head
Full count
My last chance to be a hero
A final strike to end the game
I see the exhaustion, panic, and confidence rolled into her
Then, the ball came out awkward
The pitch I dreaded
The pitch I hadn’t hit since we were young
It was the final attack
I waited and saw the rotation
It floated like a butterfly against a natural breeze
Fluttering away from me
I extended at the right time
SMACKMy eyes closed feeling the vibration run through my arms
I charged towards first
Then a loud explosion from behind
Forced me to open them
The ball screamed toward left center
The left fielder could only watch it go over the green wall
I lifted both my hands
As I raced around
The teammates swarmed around home
But the only person I could see was her
Her head down
It was her favorite pitch
I reached home in no time to the slaps on my helmet
My final at bat to eliminate her
I threw my helmet to the dugout
As we lined up
I saw her teammates well up
As we touched hands for one last time
Then at the end trailing behind
The worst of the group
Hiding them with her dirt covered hand
I didn’t know how much it would have hurt
Until I saw her grab me
“You fool.” She yelled as her coach stood behind her.
“Why?”
“I can’t believe you hit my special pitch.”
“It was for the game.”
“I know.” She admitted.
I gave her a quick hug as I turned back
But she wrapped me from behind and lifted me ten feet off the ground.
“Thank you.” She whispered before giving me a kiss on the cheek.
Since then, I only faced her once more
An empty stadium
No fans
No teammates
Just us two
The ball came again fluttering
Slowly to the same spot
But
I swung the air below it
My pride sunk
As she gleefully cheered
Yet the one reminder
Stayed on my finger
As we wrapped up our final at bat together