Page 21 of Hiding in the Outfield

And now I don’t know what to say. I’m frozen. I think…I want to flirt with him. Subtly, obviously. All I know how to be is that conceited, and more often than not, annoying jock. Which is fine in the locker room, but I want Frankie to like me. I don’t want to be annoying, or uninteresting, or—shit—disappointing.

Something in him changes. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but whatever it was about him before that was almost…predatory…fades away. “You had a great game today.”

I relax on a breath. Yes. Baseball. I can do that. “Thanks. Do you…watch all our games?”

“I try to catch as many as I can. Considering I house practically half the team; I need to stay up to date.” He grins. “But in all honesty, I love it. I’m my brother’s biggest fan. Always have been. Boys in tight pants don’t hurt either.”

He leans on his elbow, the position causing his tousled dark hair to dangle over his brow. I like it. Like the short, buzzed sides, the purposely disheveled longer hair on top. He’s got a light beard going now that highlights his smooth features. I like that too. There’s not a single thing about him I don’t like.

The studs in his ears glint in the light from the bar. He has extra piercings in his left ear. A few in the flat of his cartilage. I’ve noticed he switches up the earrings there. Today’s are a trio of connected silver stars.

“You’re staring, hun,” he whispers.

I quickly take a sip of my seltzer. Shit. I was.

“It’s all right. I don’t mind. I’m sure you know by now that I love attention. But just thought you’d want to know you weren’t being subtle.”

My jaw tics and a band tightens around my chest. Squeezes. Fuck.

I scan the room, try to compose myself. Just be normal, Jackson.

“Maybe I should go,” he says slowly. “You look thirty seconds from a panic attack⁠—”

“No,” I burst out, gaze snapping to his. “No,” I say more calmly. “I’m fine. I promise.”

He bites his lower lip. “Damn, Ollie-baby. You make it difficult.”

My brows scrunch. “Difficult?”

“I should be staying away from you. I don’t think you even realize what you’re asking for when you look at me with those eyes. I think you’d be terrified if you knew.”

Yeah. I’m already terrified. But something about Frankie has me unable to stay away. I’m too curious, too drawn, too hooked. And I don’t even understand why.

“Just help me,” I whisper, then glance toward the lounge area of the bar by the pool tables. Dev has disappeared. So has the blonde. My attention falls back on Frankie. “Help me be normal here?”

“All right. Let’s start easy. Why baseball?”

I send him a grateful smile. “My dad played football, and my older brother followed in his footsteps. I did play Pee Wee football, but I think I knew I wanted to…separate myself from them. From day one, I’ve always loved sports. Tots soccer, T-ball, skating at the local rink. But yeah, when it came time to choose which one I was going to dedicate my time to, I don’t know…baseball called to me.”

He sips his drink and studies me. “I can see that,” he finally says. “The way you play… Some people play the sport, others become it. When I watch you, I’m not watching a guy play baseball. It’s like Stone. Some people are baseball. I’d say it’s like Pauls, but let’s be real, he just sits on his ass behind the plate.”

“I mean, catchers⁠—”

He chuckles. “I know. I’m teasing. He’s my little brother, so I snark about him. Biggest fan, remember? He’ll be a Jetty soon; I have zero doubts.”

Pride shines in his eyes, dances through his words. It’s kind of amazing. My father and brother are both just as invested in my playing, but it’s not even close to the same. When Frankie talks about Paulie, it’s like witnessing love come to life. Whenever the Olanders talk ball, I feel like a…statistic. They might as well be discussing one of their fantasy football players.

“Paulie’s really lucky to have a brother like you.”

He tilts his head. “He is. And I, him. So, an older brother. Any other siblings?”

I shake my head. “Just the one. You?”

“Just Pao Pao.”

A huff of laughter escapes me. “Pao Pao?”

Frankie grins. “You do know Paulie’s real name is Paolo, right?”