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“Well, feel hot. Because you look hot.” She tilts her McKee baseball cap to me. “So hot, he’s not going to be able to pay attention to the game.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Cooper says dryly. He holds out a McKee cap. “Want it or not?”
I snatch the hat from him and squish it on my head. I can’t remember the last time I wore a baseball cap—probably when I was still playing softball, honestly. That was the last time I went to a game, too, although McKee’s main baseball field is way bigger than anything I played on. Penny gives me a smile, looping her arm through mine as we walk through the gates.
It’s a hot June night, so I’m only wearing a bra underneath the jersey, plus jean shorts and sandals. Sebastian managed to hand it to me, neatly folded with a note on top, before I ran out the door this morning.
The note is in my bag now, hidden in my planner. I stared at it at least twenty times throughout the day, even though I didn’t have time for daydreaming. I couldn’t wait to share the breakthrough I had with Professor Santoro, and she rewarded me with the go-ahead to make the changes to the program, but that means extra crunch time work before the symposium.
Angel—
Aren’t you glad we became friends?
Love,
S
P.S. Thank you.
Love.Love.What kind of love is it? Did he think about it before he wrote it? Did he mean it in the casual way people use the word, or did he agonize over it? And when did the word ‘angel’ become so deeply entrenched in how he thinks of me that he put it in writing? Part of me wants to cling to the note so tightly he’d never be able to pry it from my fingers, and part of me wants to pretend I never saw it.
Still, I put on the jersey when I left the lab to meet everyone at the ballpark. It’s a McKee home jersey, purple with white lettering over the front, his last name in block letters on the back over the number ‘17.’ It smells clean, but it’s clearly used, and I’d never admit it, but I sniffed it a couple times to see if I could catch a bit of his scent.
“What are you thinking about?” Penny asks.
“Huh?”
“You seem kind of distracted.” She tugs me to the left. “We’re sitting on the third base side.”
I follow her through the crowd to our seats. There are more people here than I thought there would be, honestly. With most of the McKee student population still gone for summer break, the town of Moorbridge has stepped up. A couple kids run past, gloves in hand. A group of older men laugh together as they take their seats. A family with matching ‘Perrin’ jerseys—he must be on the team—pass around signs to hold up. Pop music pipes through the speaker system, cutting through everyone’s chatter.
Sebastian deserves this kind of atmosphere when he plays, and I’m glad he’s getting it, even if this season has been tough. I should have been here sooner. If I managed to make it to Cooper’s hockey games—supporting Penny, but still—I should have been here for Seb since the season started. Even just as his friend.
I gaze at the field. The floodlights are on, illuminating the perfectly mowed grass. Beyond the fence, there’s practically a forest, the summer-bright leaves on the trees rustling in the wind. McKee has nice facilities everywhere, but this ballpark, with its archways leading to the upper deck seats, brick accents, and purple-and-white color scheme, feels extra special.
Both teams are on the field, warming up. Sebastian is playing catch with a guy I think I recognize as Hunter Kirby. Something warm and golden slips through me at the sight of him in his element. Anyone paying attention to Sebastian would know instantly that baseball has always been in his life.
I wonder if he’s actually as nervous as he sounded yesterday about the prospect of playing on a bigger stage. The interview definitely rattled him.
“This is nice,” I say as we settle into our seats. We’re in the front row of the lower deck along third base, which gives us a good view of the whole field. Sebastian will be in the outfield not too far from us, and I already know I’ll be looking straight at him every half-inning.
Penny glances over. “Yeah. We went to a game a couple weeks ago that was completely sold out, standing room only.”
“When?”
“You guys weren’t talking then.” She shrugs. “You know it doesn’t matter now.”
“Right.” I duck my head as I blush.
“I can’t believe you didn’t pregame with me,” Izzy says on my other side. She elbows me so I look up, then holds out a water bottle. “I had to make do.”
“Is that vodka?” Cooper asks.
“Tequila,” Izzy says.
He raises both eyebrows at his sister. “You brought an entire water bottle full of tequila to your brother’s game?”
“Oh, please. Like we don’t drink at all your games.”
