The Tour

forty-eight / the draft is the end

It was Sunday, June twelfth. Ever since I had entered the Sanders's front door, the house had been a breeding ground for chaos. Rachel was inviting cameramen from Major League Baseball into the living room, Noah was running around making sure that he looked good enough to be on television, and several people were chattering loudly in the living room at Will. And they were clearly talking at him and not to him, because all he was doing in response was staring at the ground in front of him.

He had a white dress shirt on with navy slacks, and his hands were clasped tightly under his chin as chaos ensued around him. I was wearing a loose gray dress that I hoped wouldn't look too matchy with Will. However, ever since I had walked it that wasn't even a concern, because I was too scared to go sit next to him. I had never felt this level of awkwardness in the Sanders's house, but there were too many foreign people here and my stomach twisted with butterflies.

"We're on in twenty five minutes, who is sitting on the couch with Will?" One of the head cameramen yelled from a few feet away.

"River will be on one side of him and Rachel will take the other. Noah will sit next to River and I'll sit next to my wife," Koa answered from across the room, gesturing for Noah to get out of the bathroom

"We usually recommend that the family sits next to the prospect and a significant other stands behind the couch or sits right outside of the family members..." the man stated, avoiding eye contact with me and focusing on Koa.

Koa folded his strong arms over his chest and stared down the employee. "River is family, and she has been best friends with Will for most of his life. He already made it clear that he wants her next to him, so that's what we'll do."

"It's just for the future in case anything happens in the relationship, just as a protective measure..." the guy tried again. I twisted a ring on my right hand nervously, not sure what to do.

Finally, Will lifted his head from his hands with an exasperated expression on his face. "Quit it, we all understand what you're saying. She's sitting next to me on the stupid couch."

That finally got him to shut up, and we all assumed our spots on the couch. The rest of my family entered through the slamming screen door out front and joined the crowd of family and friends behind the couch but in the frame of the camera.

Will ran a hand through his hair that was a actually not in a hat, one of the only times it was loose except for when he was surfing. It was swept back and curling at the ends, but mostly tucked away from his face.

I slipped my hand into his free one, feeling its clamminess and noting his bouncing knee. "They don't send this big of a camera crew for nothing," I noted. He nodded tersely, attention focused on the pre-draft show on the television.

Time passed slowly, crawling by as the announcers discussed each professional team and who they might be eyeing. Eventually, it came time for names to start being called.

The Orioles picked first, calling the name of a player from UCLA. This was unsurprising; no one had expected Will's name to be called first. Then came a pitcher out of Vanderbildt. The cameras kept recording us all.

Will gently removed his hand from mine and started flipping his phone into the air and catching it. A call would come through extending him an offer before it was announced on live television; even though we were watching the announcements, we were really just waiting for a call.

The commentators went back to discussing a shortstop out of LSU who was predicted to be called soon, and Will continued to twirl his phone through the air. He was probably on his tenth toss when I heard it buzz. He caught it, staring hard at the number of an unknown caller.