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The Neighborhood
If I had planned this thing for months, it couldn't have gone any better. The day was perfect, not too hot, an occasional cloud drifting past to give us a break from the sun. James and the rest of Josh's friends, even sour cream face, really stepped up to help.
It was easy for anyone to see that Josh was well-loved amongst his buddies. I mean, what was there not to like?
Josh had it all—an easygoing, chill personality and an amazing sense of humor. Plus, he was smart, and did I mention hot? Not that his friends probably cared about that last bit.
Seeing him up to bat for the first time, I watched him like a hawk from my spot on third base. Josh and I had talked sports a million times, obviously, but I'd never actually seen him play before.
And holy crap, I needed to fan myself. He was hotter than hot. Like burning me up. The way he gripped the bat, the way his biceps bulged, the fierce focus on his face. I couldn't take my eyes off him, even when I heard Anaya sigh deeply from her spot nearby on the bleachers.
The pitcher, Damien, lobbed the ball right in the strike zone, the perfect spot, and Josh's determination was evident in his stance. Sure enough, he connected easily and the ball flew deep into right field, Josh taking off running. And running and running.
Oh, no.
I was rooting for him, of course, on a personal level. But in this particular game, we were on opposite teams, and I didn't want him to score. My wicked competitive side flared, and I stared down the outfielder while he chased the ball.
Josh rounded first base easily, then second base, heading straight for me, kicking up dust with his speed.
Crap!
The right fielder threw the ball at me with all his might but it came up just short, and I had to dive for it... right as Josh passed me.
Double crap!
As I scrambled for the ball, off he went, cheers going up, everyone yelling when he made it home.
Damn it!
Even though I was pissed about the weak-ass throw from sour cream guy—man, I really needed to find out his name—I was thrilled to see Josh whooping it up, the world's biggest smile lighting up his face as everyone clapped him on the back.
I knew his friends felt it too. This was a moment.
The guy had a life-long love of baseball and hadn't played in probably ten years. And here he was, having a great at-bat and then scoring.
Not able to look away, I watched him as he eventually walked to the bleachers behind home plate, talking with his friends while grabbing a drink. His eyes drifted to me, and I knew I had the stupidest smile on my face. But I didn't care.
Our eyes connected, and I felt a current of electricity pass between us. Something had changed. The feeling was palpable as we blatantly stared at each other, Josh's soft smile reaching his eyes. He had to feel it too.
The look on his face spoke of contentment and happiness... something soul-deep, something we suddenly shared.
Josh had scored, but it seemed like I had hit a home run.
We were soon distracted by the next batter, and I had to look away. The last thing I wanted was a Marcia Brady moment, getting hit in the nose with the ball. That was maybe a football? But still, similar idea.
And the rest of the game, it was the same. I could hardly take my eyes off Josh. Watching him constantly, sure, I felt a bit stalker-ish. But there was something so incredibly sexy about him today. Seeing him laughing with his friends, watching him play shortstop and catching grounders, even guzzling down water and pouring some over his head, he was smokin' hot.
On such a warm day, I thought he'd inevitably take off his shirt, and I kept waiting. It had been a bit since I'd seen Josh shirtless. He'd abandoned his superstition, understandably so, while watching games with my family. And then, he'd learned that it was exactly that—a superstition.
Rather unfortunate. Now that I was free to really look, he'd stopped.
Anaya kept teasing me about the staring, making goofy faces, but I caught Josh's eyes on me just as much. Or so I told myself.
Breaking for food, we spread out all over the rickety, metal bleachers. With anxious eyes, I watched the guys load up their paper plates with the subs and chips.
Please let us have enough.
Of course, Anaya noticed my worry and jabbed me in the arm. "Chill. If it gets low, I'll send Andre out to get more food."
