Jordan is gracious enough to allow me to stew in my silent mood until the commercial break. It’s at that point she mutes the TV and turns her body until she’s fully facing me.
“Was your date shit?”
“It wasn’t a real date,” I mumble. She lifts a single eyebrow at me. “Okay, fine!” I throw my hands up. “He treated the whole thing like a real date. So, I guess it was a real date.”
She gives me a smug smirk, and I want nothing more than to throw a pillow at her and knock the know-it-all look off her face. “Told you so.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question though. Was it shit? Is that why you’ve been grumpy all evening?” She tilts her head, eyes narrowed, examining me.
“It—”
“Nope, that’s not it,” she cuts me off.
“Well, if you would let me speak?—”
“It was good, wasn’t it?” She carries on as if I didn’t even speak. “Toogood. And now you’re having your existential crisis.”
I simply blink at her. No point in speaking when she’s figuring it all out on her own with whatever voodoo mind reading shit she’s doing right now.
This is one of those moments where being best friends for nearly a decade comes to bite you in the ass. You can’t hide anything from the other.
“Oh my god,” she gasps out. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
I chew on my lip, holding back my words. Because yes, she’s right.
Obviously,she’s right.
I’ve been in a terrible mood all day because all I can think about is how I want another date with him. More than one. How I wish I had let him kiss me there on the field. Very likely more than once. Maybe even forever. My stomach drops every time I think about the look on his face when he said he had been in love. I’m jealous. Why the fuck am I jealous of someone I don’t even know?
Was googling Ryan and his past girlfriends to figure out which of them he loved, the first thing I did when I climbed in bed last night? I’m ashamed to say yes, but that’s exactly what I did. And my search was all for nothing. He’s never been connected with someone long enough to warrant it being considered arelationship. So, it’s clearly someone from way back in his past before his MLB days. Or worse, it’s a secret girlfriend the media never knew about.
“Isa, what does this mean for you two?”
I furrow my brows. “What do you mean?”
“Are you going to date him now?” she asks.
I slump back in my spot and let my eyes drag back to the screen. “You know I can’t,” I whisper. “Game’s back.” I attempt to shut down this line of conversation because that’s the other line of thinking my brain has run off on to put me in a bad mood.
I can want another date and wish for kisses all I want, but at the end of the day am I really willing to risk my career for it? Is this thing worth the attempt? Isheworth it?
The unfortunate thought I keep coming back to is… it might be.Hemight be.
And that terrifies me.
What if I allow us to give this thing a shot? What if things go terribly wrong?
But what if they go incredibly right?
The topof the first inning flies by and Jordan lets me continue to stay lost in my thoughts, a fact I can’t help but feel grateful for. I’m sure she knows the mental battle I’m waging right now.
She probably also hopes I’ll come to the same conclusion she keeps pushing me toward.
I focus in on where Ryan is sauntering his way up to the plate for his at bat. I’ve seen him play up close enough times that I’ve started to be able to pick up when something is off. And even sitting here on the couch in the comfort of my own home, I can sense something is different.
“He changed his song again?” Jordan asks. “Did you know he was going to do that?”
