Page 14 of Saved By the Pitcher

Chapter Six

Mike was giddy and nervous all at once. James had agreed to join him in Mike’s reserved box seats at Yankee Stadium to watch a game against the Toronto Blue Jays. Once Mike had received a text from James with the two-month-old selfies along with an admission of his embarrassment over his brother’s revelation, Mike had responded that he felt bad that James had been uncomfortable. Mike had added that he was flattered to have been idolized by someone who seemed so nice and who was so attractive. James had returned a message stating that Mike was just as hot now, and being bisexual himself, James had been afraid that he had been obvious about the attraction during their meeting. James then stated that he hoped they could be friends, despite his little crush. Mike had laughed and responded that he hoped so, since James hadn’t been the only one interested that day. That had earned Mike a heart and a smiley face emoji, as well as an agreed-upon ‘date’ at the ballgame.

Mike had left instructions with security to escort James to the box upon his arrival. Now, Mike was pacing, checking the stocked bar and adjusting the air temperature, wanting everything to be perfect. He was bending over the mini-refrigerator to retrieve a water bottle when he heard footsteps behind him. He straightened and turned, happy to see a beaming James wearing a team baseball jersey, sunglasses, shorts and backwards Yankees baseball cap. Mike thought he would combust. The guy was so cute.

“You didn’t have to stand up,” James said. “I was enjoying the view.”

Mike snickered and walked over to embrace James. Like the last time, he could smell James’ skin and hair, and he reveled in touching James’ strong back muscles as he held him for a moment. “You look nice.”

James rolled his eyes. “I look like every other guy here.”

Mike grinned at the comment. “Trust me. You don’t.” James blushed but smiled, looking down at the concrete floor.

They were about to sit when the crowd was asked to stand for the national anthem.

“It’s been a dream of mine to sing that here at Yankee Stadium,” James admitted as he stood by Mike’s side to salute the flag.

“You’d be awesome, I’m sure,” Mike encouraged. “Maybe I can help make it happen.”

Mike saw that James looked at him with an unreadable expression. James didn’t answer, but when he turned his gaze back to the flag, he had a slight frown. Mike couldn’t understand what he’d said to cause that reaction.

Throughout the game, Mike noticed James knew baseball and he knew the players. He was cheering every Yankees hit, talking about what he expected would happen with each play based on his experience watching the team, and showing visible frustration whenever the Yankees made an error or an out. Mike tried not to laugh at how James was more involved with the team’s fate than he was. He took advantage of the situation, though, bumping his bare leg against James’ each time they raised their arms in elation, and running a soothing hand over James’ back each time something went wrong for the team. Mike was aroused more than a few times, but never noticed a reaction to the contact from James. He wondered if he had misread what he thought to be James’ flirtatious text messages.

“Want a hot dog?” Mike asked James just as the eighth inning began.

James grimaced and frowned at Mike. “Dude, those are so bad for you.”

Mike laughed. “And the beer we’ve been drinking is healthy? I’m starving, so I’m getting one. Want to share? I’d enjoy watching you put it in your mouth.”

James blinked with surprise, then snickered. “Jesus. You’re going to perv watching me eat a hot dog?”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe. It isn’t like the Yankees are worth watching today. They don’t have a chance in hell of coming back from a seven-run deficit.”

James looked offended. “Yes, they do! Some fan you are.”

Mike chuckled and rubbed James’ shoulder. “Okay. I won’t give up. And we don’t have to eat a hot dog. Maybe after the game, we can grab a bite somewhere else.”

James cast his eyes down to his sneakers. “I’m not sure that we should. If you’d like, maybe you could come back to my place. I could make us something.”

Mike nodded, assuming James was avoiding a public dining experience because he didn’t want tongues wagging before anything serious happened between them. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

James gave him a weak smile, then returned his attention to the game, yelling at the plate umpire for calling a ball instead of a strike against a Toronto Blue Jay. Mike grinned. There was some passion in the boy, for sure.

The Yankees ended up losing the game by nine runs. Mike wished they had been victorious so he could see a big smile on James’ face. Still, James turned to him and thanked him, telling him he’d never been in the box before and it was a thrill. It gave Mike the opportunity to suggest they do it again.

James’ phone pinged with a text, causing him to look and bark a laugh.

“What?” Mike asked as they were rising from their seats to exit.

“My crazy brother,” James replied. “He said he was talking to his girlfriend and he told her that right about now, I was creaming my shorts.”

Mike swallowed hard, wiping a hand over his damp neck. “You all talk to each other with such candor—and to complete strangers, too.” Mike recalled the indiscreet conversation from the night at the theater.

James nodded. “Yes. I suspect my father dropped us on our heads when we were babies—purposely.”

Mike wasn’t sure if that was meant to be comical or critical of his father. “Well, as long as you all have fun with each other.”

James’ phone pinged again, stopping James in his tracks so he could read the text. “Oh my God, he’s such a weirdo.”