“Hmm…” He trails off, thinking about it for a moment. “What do you want?”
What do I want? Well, that’s a loaded question now, isn’t it? “I want you to cool it with the walk-up songs. I know you were using them to get to me initially, but it’s time to stop. If I win, you go back to your original walk-up song.”
“What? You don’t like Queen? Come on, ‘You’re My Best Friend’ is a classic!” I shoot him a glare, pulling a chuckle from him before he nods in agreement. “Fine, done.”
“And if you win? What do you want?” I ask.
“WhenI win… I want to take you out on a date.” His face is smug, meanwhile I’m stuck somewhere between panic and excitement.
I gape at him. “No, absolutely not. You can’t take me out on a date. It’s against so many rules.”
“I can fly under the radar. Come on, firecracker. Just say yes,” he pleads at me with his eyes.
I chew on my lip as I weigh the idea. This has the potential to go so wrong. But I hate to admit, I’m actually curious. I huff out a breath. “Fine.Ifyou win, I’ll go on a date.”
The smile that spreads across his face is downright wicked. “Excellent.”
And with that, he queues up the movie.
I grab a few handfuls of popcorn as the opening credits roll. “How is this a movie about baseball?” I ask around a mouthful.
He chuckles, throwing a piece my way. “Shh! Watch the movie.”
I roll my eyes at him but return them to the screen in time to see one of the actors’ names. “Wait. Madonna is in this? LiketheMadonna?”
“Yes, Isa.TheMadonna.” He turns and gives me an appraising look. “You’re one of those people who talk throughout the entire movie, aren’t you?”
I scoff at his question. How absurd. “No, of course not.”
“Your country needs you?It’s baseball, not the war!” I shout, throwing my handful of popcorn at the screen.
“Well, I mean, it is World War II so it kind ofiswar,” Ryan argues back before stealing the popcorn bowl from my lap, forcing me to scoot closer to his end to reach it.
“She’s not pretty enough? What a PIG! I mean, sure, she’s got crazy ex-girlfriend eyes, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be on the team.” I hate men. Honestly.
“Calm down there, firecracker. It all works out in the end.”
“Wow, Fletch. Spoilers much?”
He simply shakes his head, chuckling at me as he redirects his attention.
“Please tell me they’re notactuallygoing to play in those dresses. Are they?” I look to Ryan in horror.
“Watch the movie!” he says.
“Oh, that’s so misogynistic. Why do they need to ‘act like ladies’ if they’re playing baseball for fuck’s sake!”
“Don’t you dare ever manhandle me the way Tom Hanks just manhandled Kit,” I scold Ryan, pointing at the screen. Fireblazes in my eyes as I look at him. “I have feet and they work.” I wiggle the toes of said feet in his direction.
“Duly noted,” he acknowledges with a smirk before snagging both feet from the air and pulling them to rest on his lap, his hand casually draped over my ankles.
“If they have Canadians, Irish, and Swedes, then how are they ‘all-American’?” I ask, confused.
Ryan looks stumped as he thinks through my question. “You know, you make a valid point.” I smile in triumph as I settle back into the couch.
My eyes burn as Tom Hanks reads the letter and scans the room. “Oh no. Please no.” I sniffle. “Please don’t tell me her husband died in the war.” The tears are trying to spring from my eyes. “Oh,thank god.” I release a relieved breath.
“WAIT, SHE’S LEAVING?”
