Firecracker
In bocca al lupo
Ryan
Uhh was that even English?
Firecracker
Nope
Goodbye Fletch
ELEVEN
BASEBALL DADDY
ISABELLA
Believe it or not,I did end up putting on the game. I know, I know. I’m disappointed with myself too. As much as I wanted to not watch—and believe me, I really didn’t want to—I had this feeling that Ishould. A fact not helped by the way Fletch is trying to be my friend and asked me if I would be watching. When I’m working, I usually watch—I use that term very loosely—from the studio in the stadium where I never get to hear the commentary so I’m typically bothering Jamie or someone else on the crew to explain what’s going on. So maybe watching on TV will be a better experience?
I’m curled up on the couch, wrapped in my favorite fleece blanket with a Diet Coke and frozen chocolate covered strawberries.
The announcers are in the middle of going through the starting lineup for both teams and making their predictions for the game. It’s the first game in this away series against the San Diego Bears and the sportscasters all ended up picking the Suns to win based on how strong of a start they’ve had this season. Especially in an away series. They’ve come away the winnersfor all their away series so far, which is an impressive feat. The announcers said it has something to do with being around an unfriendly crowd instead of their home crowd. I guess the crowd tends to be more antagonistic toward away teams. I haven’t really noticed that from my side of things. Although, I wasn’t really paying attention to the crowd’s interaction with the teams.
The image flashes away from the announcers and focuses on Fletcher making his way to home plate for his first at bat. Guess it’s game time.
“Whatcha doing?” a voice asks over my shoulder.
“Jesus Christ, Jordan!” I nearly jump out of my skin. “What the fuck? Why are you sneaking around?”
She has the biggest evil smile I’ve ever seen. “I’m not sneaking around. But if you weren’t so busy ogling your baseball daddy, then you would’ve heard me.” She tilts her head toward the TV where Fletch is settling in at the plate with a few practice swings.
“I’m not ogling,” I say defensively.
“You were totally ogling.”
“Was not,” I grumble, keeping an eye on the screen.
“Youneverwatch baseball! You were absolutely ogling.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m your best friend. You can’t fool me.”
I let out a frustrated groan, dropping my head back against the couch. “He asked if I was watching! I felt like I owed it to him.” I tilt my head to look at her, finding her watching me with a smug look on her face.
“Why would you owe it to him to watch his game? Hm? He’sjusta guy from work. Right?” she presses with a smirk.
“I— He’s—” I stumble over my words, failing to form a complete sentence before I give up. “Leave me alone, Jordan! Let me live my life.”
“Mhmm,” she hums, a knowing glint in her eye. She snatches a strawberry from my bowl before I can react and plops down on the sofa next to me. “So, who’s winning?” she asks around the food in her mouth. She’s still in her dress slacks and blouse from the office. All she’s done is toed off her shoes by the front door and ditched her oversized tote bag on the kitchen counter. It seems giving me shit for watching the game was enough motivation to derail her usual post-work routine of changing into loungewear, throwing her highlighted hair into a messy bun, and scrubbing the makeup from her face.
“No one yet. It just started,” I say quietly, my fingers toying with a stray thread on my blanket.
“Oh my god!” Her entire body jolts forward so she’s sitting up as close to me as possible. “You’re watching it fromthe beginning? Oh, you are so obsessed with him.” She grabs another strawberry before sitting back again with a giant grin, showing off the slight gap between her two front teeth.
“Am not!” I whine.
“Whatever you say, cutie.” She pops the strawberry into her mouth and settles in as we watch Fletcher take his turn at bat. It wasn’t his best showing, but at least he got a base hit and made it to first.
Best showing? Who am I?
