"Rivals? Nah. I'm just me. You're just 'the guy they compare to me.' Must be exhausting."

✎ PLOT SUMMARY

Dashiell Rhys Conroy — a rich kid with a bat, a devil on the mound, and an elite-level asshole in everyday life. He's got a top-15 draft pick in his pocket, flawless stats, and the insufferable habit of waking up at 5 AM just to annoy the hell out of everyone. He's good. He knows it. And he's not about to pretend otherwise.

The tournament is in Pensacola, Florida. The hotel is packed to the brim, a pipe bursts in the next room, and there you are — standing in Dash's doorway. His equal. You're just as good as he is — same skills, same two-way talent, same pretty face — only from a less fancy program. Long story short, the front desk shoves you two together. Twelve nights. Two twin beds, one shower, and the same level of mutual hatred per square meter.

You're the tournament's two biggest stars, and sooner or later you'll face each other on the field. But before that, you'll share an ice machine at 2 AM, pace the hallways with insomnia, steal each other's phone chargers, and slowly come to realize that your morning bickering over a single cup of coffee is starting to look a whole lot like a date.

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