Our Love Series Book 1: Our Love Is Like Pitchin' In The Dark
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Haley Tew
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23
Veronica “Ronnie” James is juggling school, her younger siblings, and her photography hobby when Ross Foster—the cocky athlete she can’t stand—corners her into tutoring him after a risky football bet. Their feud turns into an uneasy partnership that keeps throwing them together, from the library to the sidelines. With a sweet new crush entering the picture, Ronnie has to figure out who’s real… and why Ross won’t let her go.
Chapter 1: Crossroads
“Ronnie, wake up!” My mom’s voice sliced through the cold air, echoing from the kitchen below like an alarm clock I never set.
Groaning, I peeled back my warm blankets, instantly regretting it as the chill of another never-ending Ohio autumn wrapped around me. It was October in Canton, which meant: yep, it was starting to get freezing.
This was every school morning: Mom shouted. I pretended I’d been awake. I grabbed the first outfit I saw. Repeat until graduation.
I stumbled down the stairs, hoodie half on, hair a mess, and was greeted by the familiar smell of coffee and Dad’s daily routine.
“Morning, slugger,” Dad said behind his newspaper, sipping from his mug like some relic from a past life.
He sat at the breakfast table dressed in his usual uniform: navy polo, khakis, and polished black shoes—bank manager chic. His dark hair was starting to turn silver, and you better believe I reminded him of that every chance I got.
“You know you can read that on your phone, right?” I muttered, grabbing an energy drink from the fridge.
“Sure,” he said, lowering his paper. “But there’s something about the feel of print between your fingers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Grandpa Gutenberg.”
He chuckled, unfazed, and I moved to where Mom sat at the counter, glasses perched on her nose as she clicked through orders for “Maggie’s Shirts”—her custom T-shirt business. She could make anything from a birthday tee to a full-on bachelorette party line in a day. Honestly, she’s kind of a superhero.
“What’s the order today?” I asked, rubbing her shoulders with one hand and sipping my drink with the other.
“Jerseys. Big family trip to Disney. I’m swamped,” she said, not looking up. “Think you could take Parker and Avery to the park after school? Bonnie bailed.”
Cue the puppy eyes. Classic Mom move.
I sighed dramatically, but already knew I was caving. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”
She kissed my hand. “You’re a doll. Thank you, baby.”
And just like that, I was promoted from big sister to part-time chauffeur.
“Parker! Avery! Let’s go!” I called out.
Meet the chaos twins. They were fraternal, but somehow looked more alike than most identicals. Parker’s hair was gelled into his usual spike as he swore it impressed girls. Avery was in a sparkly dress like she was attending prom instead of third grade.
Parker practically jumped into the backseat of my Tahoe, Rider, as I lovingly called him. Avery, on the other hand, buckled in like the responsible twin she pretended to be.
“You look fancy, Parker,” I teased, sliding into the driver’s seat, throwing my backpack at the passenger side. “Big day?”
He flushed. “Rylee might see me.”
Avery started making kissing noises. I nearly spat out my drink, holding on tighter to the wheel.
***
Canton Elementary was two minutes from the high school. Perks of living in a town so small you could sneeze and someone across town blessed you.
After drop-off, I headed to my school-slash-second-home-slash-prison: Canton High.
Elle Jenkins, my best friend since diapers, was waving both arms in the air like she was trying to stop traffic in the lot.
“Whoa, whoa! Slow down!” she yelled.
Rolling my eyes, used to her tactics, I parked in my spot—the same one I had been parking in since we got our licenses. Tradition.
Elle was practically a walking glow stick. Shoulder-length blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, freckles that danced on her cheeks. Total Disney princess energy. Naturally, she had every guy in a ten-mile radius under her spell.
“You’d think getting almost hit by a car would teach you to stop standing in the road,” I muttered as I got out.
“Danger is my middle name,” she said, spinning in a circle. “Elle Danger Jenkins.”
“Did you finish your levitation project for photography?” I asked as we walked inside.
She froze mid-spin. “Wait…what project?”
I groaned. “You’ve had two weeks.”
She shrugged. “Blonde moment.”
I wasn’t even mad. Just impressed by the consistency.
***
Chemistry class was its usual circle of hell until the door burst open.
KJ and Ross strolled in, ten minutes late and sweat drenched from morning practice, I supposed. Some girls giggled. I scowled.
“Welcome, KJ and Ross,” Mr. Truman said with an exasperated sigh.
KJ flashed his boy-next-door smile. Ross just smirked.
Ross Foster: the school’s golden boy. Star of literally every sport, future D1 athlete, walking ego trip. The only red flag bigger than his hair was his personality.
His sweat dripped onto the floor. Gross. If I showed up late like that, I’d get detention. If Ross did? The teachers handed him a trophy. I had hated him since kindergarten, and not in the cute romantic comedy way.
Nope. I meant actual, legitimate wished-he’d-fall-into-a-pothole kind of hate. Especially after he called me Dorky Ronnie in front of the whole school during an award ceremony.
Yes, I remembered. Yes, I was still bitter. No, I wouldn’t let it go.
***
“Please?” Elle begged at lunch, shoving her photography project into my hands.
I sighed, taking a bite of my PB&J, the only sandwich I had ever known how to make. “You forgot again?”
She grinned. “You’re so good at it though!”
I helped her. Of course. Like I always did.
KJ arrived, kissed Elle on the cheek, nodded toward me, and flopped beside her like a golden retriever. He was charming, sweet, and way too good for Ross’s friendship.
“You guys coming to the football game Friday?” he asked.
I stared at him like he was speaking in tongues. “What game?”
Elle covered for me. “We’ll be there! Biggest fans!”
I rolled my eyes, tossed my trash, and mentally added “high school football” to the growing list of things I never signed up for.
***
After school, I picked up the twins. Parker was beaming.
“She noticed me! Rylee noticed my outfit!”
Avery squealed about the swings as we neared the park, arms stretched like she could hug the air.
But then…
“Sign up for Baseball-Ready!” a voice called out.
I knew that voice. I’d rather be mauled by ducks.
Parker bolted toward the booth like it was Disneyland. And there he was—Ross freaking Foster, in a red polo and baseball cap, manning a folding table like he owned the park.
“Hey there, little dude,” he said, smiling at Parker. “Want to join Baseball-Ready?”
I stayed behind, arms crossed, eyes on the flyer.
“Oh, Ronnie. Didn’t see you there,” Ross said with fake surprise, oozing sarcasm.
I didn’t even look at him. “What’s the program about?”
“Just a little something to help boys his age develop skills. Builds confidence,” he said. Then, smirking, he added, “Might even help you with hand-eye coordination.”
I shot him a glare. “Hilarious. Do you harass everyone or just the people you’ve hated since kindergarten?”
His grin widened. “Aw, you remembered.”
I turned away, twins in tow.
“Wait, dork! Aren’t you forgetting my math homework?” he called after me.
I didn’t turn around. Just raised my hand, middle finger firmly in the air—but only metaphorically. Because Ross Foster may have been the school’s golden boy. But to me? He was the spark that lit every fire I planned to burn down.
