Another one of the best chapters! Hope you guys like it! Thanks KenoshaChick!
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"Okay, so a player comes up to bat-"
"That means it is their turn to hit the ball."
"Yes. They have three chances to hit the ball, unless the pitcher throws a ball-"
"What else would he throw?"
"A strike."
"What is a strike?"
"A strike is when it goes over the plate."
"Should not the player simply wait for strike?"
"Yes, but it's not always that simple."
"Does the pitcher not always throw a ball?"
"Ugh!" I shouted in exasperation. In a continued effort to pick my brain, Sasha had asked about my hobbies and for some idiotic reason I mentioned my family liked to play baseball. This led to a nearly hour-long conversation trying to explain the concept of baseball. It was not going well. Vampires could usually comprehend the simple concepts of human games easily enough, but sports were something Sasha couldn't care less about. Either that or he just liked seeing me riled up when he teased me. While I clenched my teeth, Sasha chuckled softly with a smug smile on his face. It was definitely a three-fourths smile. I was glad to see I'd cracked his shell at least a tiny bit. I wasn't happy that the way to do it was so frustrating for me.
"I am sorry, but I just cannot get my mind around all this," he murmured through his snickering.
"Okay, fine, I'll just show you." I got up swiftly from the couch and moved toward the other side of the room where Sasha was sitting. His face reflected a state of confusion, having no idea what I was about to demonstrate to him. I rested my warm hand against his icy neck, against the place where I should have felt his pulse, and released well-known images to him. I took him to the meadow where Alice displayed her perfect pitching, followed by Emmett smashing the ball several miles away, my father running to retrieve it, and Carlisle catching the ball just as Emmett reached home plate, only to have Esme call him out. I watched Sasha's face as he absorbed the information. His expression changed from confusion to awe. I may have shown him more than he needed to understand, but I was enjoying the unexpected closeness. Why had it taken me so long to realize I could easily be near him or touch him by taking advantage of my ability? The images of my mind could explain things much more clearly than I could.
We hadn't touched since the "incident" in Uricani; that was how I referred to my recent panic attack in my mind. Neither of us had brought it up since it happened two days ago. The event had the strange ability to change everything and nothing between us at the same time. We filled our conversations with questions and answers like usual, but something felt off or maybe just different. I wanted to talk about it, but I didn't know what to say other than to apologize repeatedly. I had revealed his identity to the Gypsies, and envisioning Sasha being hurt because of my actions made me very upset; that much I understood. Of course, this line of thinking only led me to the why. Why was I so upset? Because we were friends and we'd become quite close in the past few weeks? All of my actions could have been explained easily with this logic. But the moment after, the moment when Sasha brought me down from the peaks of my distress...how to explain that?
At the same time that I was traveling through these confusing avenues, there was one other idea that I was obsessing over, which was probably also the reason things felt off for me: touching. To never touch was unusual for me. My family was very affectionate, as was Jacob. Holding hands, hugs, or pats on the back were all ways in which we expressed our fondness for one another. Sasha and I weren't family, so I couldn't touch him in the same manner I would my parents or my aunts and uncles. Nor did I have much experience in knowing what was socially acceptable between friends. Sasha would be an even poorer reference on that matter. Also, we were both vampires and it wasn't as if we could accidently touch. Every movement, even Sasha's slow ones, were deliberate. When we were in Uricani, he touched me twice, which meant he could do it; however, both times he had been trying to protect me. They weren't touches of intimacy or even friendliness. I was confused further because I knew he was comfortable with personal space; he'd been well within a foot of me on several occasions. I also knew he enjoyed spending time with me. We were together nearly every hour of the day in which I was conscious.
