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“And for you,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it, I had to grab it on my way over.”
I’m intrigued as I peer down into the bag.
It’s a folded jersey.
A Pinstripes jersey.
“We’re going to the game.” He smiles shyly. “I figured it’d be fun. You can teach me all about baseball. Considering how much you love it, I should probably know more about it.”
I almost laugh. I mean, this is funny, right? Not like ha-ha funny, more like cry yourself to sleep funny.
I don’t have the heart to tell Michael this is the absolute last place I want to go on a date. I’m actively trying my hardest to put Grant out of my mind, and now we’re off to watch him play in person?
I peer up to see Michael chewing on his bottom lip. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this, and he probably wasn’t sure how it would land. He holds his hands out and explains, “The tickets aren’t great, but you’ve probably sat in the best seats in the house over the years. Maybe it’d be fun to live like the rest of us peasants?”
“I assure you, no seat is a bad seat. Let me see the tickets.”
He retrieves them from his back pocket and holds them out for me.
I inspect them then slap them against my hand excitedly. “Yes, see, this section—section 326—has my favorite hot dogs.”
He frowns, confused. “Don’t they serve the same hot dogs everywhere in the stadium?”
“Yes, technically—but Russell works in section 326 and he’s the hot dog king. I’ve seen people wait in line for an entire inning to get one of his hot dogs.”
Michael is absolutely delighted by this turn of events. Never mind that I’ve totally made it up. Russell? There is no Russell, but Michael was probably feeling insecure about the seats. Yeah, they’re not like right behind home plate or anything, but they’re fine. This could be fun, I tell myself, trying for the sake of this date to not let my real reaction show on my face—something akin to a foreboding wide-eyed grimace—which proves extremely hard once we’re in the back of an Uber, heading toward the stadium, and I finally pull my new jersey out of the bag to look at it.
“That’s Grant Navarro’s jersey. He’s the new guy.” He fidgets on his seat before pointing to the garment. “Not sure why I’m explaining that as if you don’t already know who he is. Anyway, I figured you probably had enough jerseys with your brother’s number on them…”
The color drains from my face as I hold it up. The laugh I held in when Michael first told me where we were going bursts out of me now because what are the odds? Truly, what are the odds?! But Michael takes it as a laugh of delight, like I’m so pleased to be receiving a jersey with Grant’s name and number on it I can barely contain myself.
Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?
And if I pushed my luck and persisted? If I still wanted that kiss…what would happen then?
The tremor in my pulse is for the wrong man.
I clutch the jersey in my lap and try very hard to seem appreciative as I lean over and give Michael a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“This is all really great—the flowers, the tickets, the jersey. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. We could have just had a quick bite to eat somewhere.”
His smile fades slightly. “Like I said, I haven’t been on the dating scene in a while. I wasn’t sure what girls expect these days.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Here, I’ll get you up to speed. Diamonds are an absolute must on the first date. You have those, right?”
I make a show of looking around his seat, like I’m trying to find the Tiffany’s box he’s hiding from me.
He pats his shorts and sighs with disappointment. “Dang. I forgot them at home.”
My eyebrows shoot up and I shake my head. My tone is disapproving when I reply, “I guess I’ll let it slide this time…”
He laughs and nudges his shoulder against mine.
“You’re already doing great,” I assure him. “Even just showing up on time is pretty rare.”
He rolls his eyes. “Tell me that’s an exaggeration.”
The rest of the way to the stadium, I regale him with all of my recent dating woes, and we laugh. It’s easy conversation and nice company. It feels less like I’m spending the evening with a date and more like I’m spending it with a new friend, which is fine. The romance will come later.
We’re a little late getting to the stadium because traffic is horrendous. By the time I change into my jersey and we make it up to our seats on the terrace, we’ve missed all the pre-game announcements, the national anthem, and the line-up presentation. Roberto Romero is pitching for the Pinstripes and the Twins already have a runner on first. Luke pitched last night, so he won’t take the mound again for another three or four games. Besides Luke, Roberto is the best starter the Pinstripes have.
