“STOP FIDGETING WITH IT,” Izzy says, slapping my hand away from the front-tie of the jersey. “It’s great.”
“I feel weird,” I grumble.
“Well, feel hot. Because you look hot.” She tilts her McKee baseball cap to me. “So hot, he’s not going to be able to pay attention to the game.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Cooper says dryly. He holds out a McKee cap. “Want it or not?”
I snatch the hat from him and squish it on my head. I can’t remember the last time I wore a baseball cap—probably when I was still playing softball, honestly. That was the last time I went to a game, too, although McKee’s main baseball field is way bigger than anything I played on. Penny gives me a smile, looping her arm through mine as we walk through the gates.
It’s a hot June night, so I’m only wearing a bra underneath the jersey, plus jean shorts and sandals. Sebastian managed to hand it to me, neatly folded with a note on top, before I ran out the door this morning.
The note is in my bag now, hidden in my planner. I stared at it at least twenty times throughout the day, even though I didn’t have time for daydreaming. I couldn’t wait to share the breakthrough I had with Professor Santoro, and she rewarded me with the go-ahead to make the changes to the program, but that means extra crunch time work before the symposium.
Angel—
Aren’t you glad we became friends?
Love,
S
P.S. Thank you.
Love. Love. What kind of love is it? Did he think about it before he wrote it? Did he mean it in the casual way people use the word, or did he agonize over it? And when did the word ‘angel’ become so deeply entrenched in how he thinks of me that he put it in writing? Part of me wants to cling to the note so tightly he’d never be able to pry it from my fingers, and part of me wants to pretend I never saw it.
Still, I put on the jersey when I left the lab to meet everyone at the ballpark. It’s a McKee home jersey, purple with white lettering over the front, his last name in block letters on the back over the number ‘17.’ It smells clean, but it’s clearly used, and I’d never admit it, but I sniffed it a couple times to see if I could catch a bit of his scent.
“What are you thinking about?” Penny asks.
“Huh?”
“You seem kind of distracted.” She tugs me to the left. “We’re sitting on the third base side.”
I follow her through the crowd to our seats. There are more people here than I thought there would be, honestly. With most of the McKee student population still gone for summer break, the town of Moorbridge has stepped up. A couple kids run past, gloves in hand. A group of older men laugh together as they take their seats. A family with matching ‘Perrin’ jerseys—he must be on the team—pass around signs to hold up. Pop music pipes through the speaker system, cutting through everyone’s chatter.
Sebastian deserves this kind of atmosphere when he plays, and I’m glad he’s getting it, even if this season has been tough. I should have been here sooner. If I managed to make it to Cooper’s hockey games—supporting Penny, but still—I should have been here for Seb since the season started. Even just as his friend.
I gaze at the field. The floodlights are on, illuminating the perfectly mowed grass. Beyond the fence, there’s practically a forest, the summer-bright leaves on the trees rustling in the wind. McKee has nice facilities everywhere, but this ballpark, with its archways leading to the upper deck seats, brick accents, and purple-and-white color scheme, feels extra special.
Both teams are on the field, warming up. Sebastian is playing catch with a guy I think I recognize as Hunter Kirby. Something warm and golden slips through me at the sight of him in his element. Anyone paying attention to Sebastian would know instantly that baseball has always been in his life.
I wonder if he’s actually as nervous as he sounded yesterday about the prospect of playing on a bigger stage. The interview definitely rattled him.
“This is nice,” I say as we settle into our seats. We’re in the front row of the lower deck along third base, which gives us a good view of the whole field. Sebastian will be in the outfield not too far from us, and I already know I’ll be looking straight at him every half-inning.
Penny glances over. “Yeah. We went to a game a couple weeks ago that was completely sold out, standing room only.”
“When?”
“You guys weren’t talking then.” She shrugs. “You know it doesn’t matter now.”
“Right.” I duck my head as I blush.
“I can’t believe you didn’t pregame with me,” Izzy says on my other side. She elbows me so I look up, then holds out a water bottle. “I had to make do.”
“Is that vodka?” Cooper asks.
“Tequila,” Izzy says.
He raises both eyebrows at his sister. “You brought an entire water bottle full of tequila to your brother’s game?”
“Oh, please. Like we don’t drink at all your games.”
“You’re not old enough to drink.”
“You’re so funny sometimes, Coop,” she says sweetly. “Do you want a sip or not?”
“Fine,” he says, snatching the bottle from her. He grimaces as he takes a gulp.
When it comes to me, I take a sip, ignoring the gasoline-like taste. It’s cheap as hell, but whatever. It’ll make cheering more fun, and I intend to get as loud as I can for Seb.
After a couple minutes, I’m starting to feel warm from the booze, and all four of us are talking over each other. I burst out laughing as Izzy needles Cooper into yet another overprotective reaction. She’s so good at it, it should be criminal.
“What’s so funny?” someone calls.
Sebastian is leaning over the railing a few feet from us, glove tucked under his arm as he runs his hand through his hair. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him in his uniform. The deep purple plays nicely against his light hair. The white pants are tight in all the right places, and his arms look especially muscular with the short sleeves of the uniform top. The eye black on his cheeks and the belt at his waist tie everything together perfectly. Even the elbow guard he’s wearing is making me feel some sort of way, which is ridiculous. And yet right now? I don’t give a damn.
I hurry over to him, looping my fingers through the mesh screen separating us. I know it’s for safety, but I wish I could kiss him right now.
“Looking good, gorgeous,” he says. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am too.” I glance over my shoulder at Penny and his siblings. They’re hanging back, giving us some space, but Izzy waves excitedly at her brother. Sebastian waves back. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to any of the earlier ones.”
He shrugs. “Just happy to see you now.”
“Callahan!” someone calls.
“Be there in a second!” he answers. He looks back at us. “Enjoy the game, yeah? I’ll come find you after.”
“Good luck.”
He blows me a kiss as he jogs backwards. “Gonna have to keep from staring at you in between pitches, Mia Angel!”
“Ugh,” Izzy says. “That is so cute I’m going to throw up.”
“Please don’t,” Cooper says, alarm in his tone. “I can’t do a repeat of the last time you barfed on me.”
BY THE TIME the fourth inning rolls around, McKee is leading by two runs. Sebastian hit a double his first at-bat, sending his teammate on third base home for the first run of the game. I didn’t realize he batted cleanup until now. No wonder he’s been so stressed about having trouble at the plate.
It’s fun to see him hit—he does have a nice swing, the way everyone seemingly can’t stop talking about—but the outfield is a whole different game entirely. He’s incredibly fast out there, and accurate with his throws. In the second inning, when a Binghamton player got greedy on a base hit and tried to slide into second, Sebastian’s lightning-quick throw sent him straight back to the dugout.
When the Binghamton pitcher strikes out the McKee player at the plate, ending the inning, I head to the bathroom with Penny. As I’m washing my hands, two girls come in, giggling and falling over each other.
“God,” one of them says as she tries to lock the stall. “He’s so hot, I just want to lick him.”
“I know!” the other says. “Why won’t this fucking—there we go. And he’s a Callahan. Well, kind of. Close enough, right?”
“If I can’t have the dad, I’ll take him.”
Both burst into laughter. Penny raises her eyebrows at me.
“Richard?” she mouths. “Oh my God.”
I stride to one of the stalls and bang my fist on it. I don’t know what I’m more pissed about—them talking about Sebastian as if he’s a sex toy, or insinuating that he’s only partly a member of his own family. “You’re talking about Sebastian while his girlfriend is standing right here. Just so you know.”
“He has a girlfriend?” one of them says.
“Nooo,” says the other. “This is so tragic.”
“Stop talking about my fucking man.” I pause. “And his dad. That’s extra weird.”
Penny gives me a high-five. “Look at you. Mastering commitment.”
“Mastering something,” I say, an edge to my voice. “Annoyance, maybe.”
“Let’s go,” Penny says. “We should get popcorn. Or caramel corn? We need to soak up the booze.”
“He’s a Callahan, by the way,” I call as we leave the bathroom. “Not kind of. Idiots.”
We’re barely around the corner when someone says, “You’re Sebastian’s girlfriend?”
A woman, maybe in her early thirties, with dark blonde hair and smooth red lipstick, holds out her hand. She’s wearing a navy pantsuit with a silk top, and a truly atrocious necklace hangs around her neck. “Zoe Anders, The Sportsman.”
“Oh,” I say, taking her hand reluctantly. I hope I don’t smell like tequila. Was she lurking outside the bathroom waiting for me? “You’re the reporter Sebastian spoke with yesterday.”
“Yes,” she says. “And you’re Mia di Angelo? His girlfriend?”
“She is,” Penny says warily. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t write an article about the future of baseball without seeing him play some games, right?” she says. “Who are you, a friend of Mia’s?”
“My best friend Penny,” I say. “Um—it was nice to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying the game.”
“I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on Sebastian,” she says before we can escape. “And I’d love to have a picture of you for the article. You mean a lot to him, you know. He was singing your praises yesterday.”
“I don’t…”
“It’ll just take a few minutes and it’ll be a big help. You want to help him, don’t you? This article will solidify his draft capital no matter how McKee’s season ends.”
I glance at Penny, who is worrying her lip. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. Send a search-and-rescue if I’m not back by the seventh inning stretch.” I smile, hoping I sound casual, but Penny frowns before she heads back to the seats.
“You’re a doll,” Zoe says. “Wearing his jersey and everything, it’s adorable. I dated a baseball player in college.”
“Are you still with him?”
“Nope,” she says breezily. She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Let me just text my photographer, one second.”
