Nora deflated. “I hate your sister.”
“That’s okay. I have you.” I hugged her.
“You bet your ass you do, and forever, bitch.” We both laughed.
After dinner, I decided to head down to the condo gym. Working out in the evening had become my place to think. Or not think, depending on the mood I was in. There were only two other people working out, so the elliptical was free. I pulled on my headphones and threw on my workout mix, feeling the energy of the music as I did a quick stretch before stepping onto the machine.
After a couple of minutes, I’d found my rhythm. It wasn’t long after that the conversations rolled in along with the desperation of finding someone. Was I going to try to find a date to bring to the party? Was it ridiculous? Why couldn’t I just let it go and ignore the snide comments I’d get from my sister? Deep down, I was tired of always being in second place with her. Part of me hoped I’d hear from the cutie on the screen, but I messaged him an hour ago.Let’s adjust those expectations,I scolded myself. Yet, I couldn’t help checking my phone one last time. I turned the volume up to drown out the small voice asking,what if no one came along?
Thankfully someone had. The next morning, I woke up to a text from the hottie. And it hadn’t stopped since. Three days of back-and-forth messaging with him had me grinning likean idiot on my way to the stadium. His name was Alexander. He was thirty, in construction and, man, did that summer tan suit him.
He seemed genuine and sweet and, for some reason, interested in me. We had plans to meet up for dinner after the Twisters game tonight. He had mentioned he was going with his sister and her kids, but was free after.
I’d learned a long time ago that people would use you just to get some free tickets or swag. So, I neglected to mention that I worked for the team and tended to keep it close to the glove until I could trust them. I simply told him I was working and not done until nine, which he was fine with.
I carefully plotted out my evening, ensuring I’d have enough time after the game to get home, shower, and make myself more presentable. However, since it was me and how my luck was going lately, I never accounted for extra innings! Of course, we did tonight, of all damn nights. The ticking clock was driving me insane as I watched each minute stretch into what seemed like hours. My saving grace was that I knew he was in the stands. Did I try to spot him? Hell yeah. Did I have any luck? Not even a little.
By the final inning, I was in panic mode about what to wear. I had agreed to meet him at one of the restaurants in the area. There was a fantastic British grill that I enjoyed, which was walking distance from the stadium. Rifling through my bag, I swore up and down that I had brought a cute top to throw on with my denim shorts and a pair of cute wedge sandals, but I couldn’t find it. All I had was my unattractive work shirt or my sweaty tank I’d worn under it. Cursing under my breath, I scolded myself for not keeping that change of clothes with me that I always said I would.
The crowd erupted like thunder throughout the stadium. The whoops and cheers were nothing short of excitement. My date was all but forgotten as I ran out to watch as Jake nailed a ball and launched it deep into left field, bringing Josh home.I jumped up and down with the rest of the crew as we watched the boys run into home plate in spectacular fashion to end the game, giving us the 5-3 lead.
God, I loved the high of a win. The crowd. The cheers. The players!
After my obligatory post-game wrap-ups, I’d finished in record time, then opted to wear my tank. For a split second, I contemplated running to the gift shop to grab a shirt, if nothing else, but it was packed and I’d never get through. I was already fifteen minutes late for my date. Glancing at my phone to see if I’d missed a message, I slammed into someone coming out of the locker room.
“Ow. Fu—” I groaned, rubbing the top of my head.
“Ow, April. Where’s the fire?” Josh joked as he rubbed his chin where we connected.
My head throbbed from the impact. Jesus. Did that leave a mark? The sudden vision of me showing up to my date with a bruised head was about to destroy whatever courage I’d mustered not to cancel. “Did you leave a mark? Do I have a bruise?”
He pointed at me. “You? You gotme!”
“Your head is hard enough. You’re fine.” I scoffed, still rubbing my head. “Fuck, you’re hard.”
His mouth formed a wide smirk. “Never been an issue before.”
“I meant your head.” His brows shot up. And my now scarlet-colored face was probably edging on a deep shade of purple. “Not what I meant.”
Josh smirked. “I mean, you’re not wrong, for either one.”
Trying to compose myself, I straightened up and brushed him off. “Oh, get your head out of the gutters. Perv.”
He raised his hands. “You said it. I just agreed.”
Ignoring him, I caught a glimpse of his gym bag. “Please tell me you have a shirt in there.”
“A shirt?”
“You know, the thing that covers the torso of your body.”
“I know what a shirt is, April. Why do you want to know if I have one?”
“Because I am desperate and I need one.”
His brows knitted together. “Desperate, huh?”
Yup. Saw that coming. “Help a girl out? I don't have time to go home and I literally have nothing to wear.”
