Page 15 of Save the Game

“Tell me about your mom,” he prompts, kicking at the sand as he walks.

“My mom would be happier if I was on a date with someone who could give me biological children.”

“Oh.” He scrunches up his nose. “My mom is this tall,” he holds his hand flat at his mid-chest, “and will kick your ass at charades.”

I chuckle. “I’m an only child.”

“Same.”

“Did you want siblings? I did. I always wished I had a twin.”

“Hell no!” He exclaims, startling a group of birds pecking at the sand. Lifting his camera, he follows them and clicks the shutter. “Are you kidding? I loved being an only child—more attention for me.”

“Oh my god,” I laugh. He looks at me, grinning, and my stomach makes a swooping motion similar to the way the ocean is moving.

We walk until our stomachs rumble, before turning back and slowly making our way back to the parking lot. I spend the time fraught with anxiety, trying to convince myself to reach for Luke’s hand, but in the end too cowardly to do so. Luke didn’t do anything to you, I chide myself, stop being a pussy and hold his fucking hand. By the time I’ve bolstered myself enough to initiate the contact, we’ve reached the parking lot and the moment has passed. Disappointed, I unlock my car and grab my shoes, bending over to slip them back on.

Luke, leaning against the side of my car and watching me, waits until I’m back at eye level to speak. “So, dinner. Are you free any night this week?”

I almost laugh at his dogged persistence. Maybe he doesn’t like me at all; maybe he’s never had to chase anyone before, and the draw of me is only my reluctance to go out with him properly.

“Practice until seven, most nights. But free after that. You tell me,” I reply, and he beams.

“All right. I’ll text you a day once I figure it out.” Reaching out a hand, he swipes a thumb over my cheek. “Sand,” he explains.

“Did you get good pictures?” I ask, suddenly desperate for the morning to continue.

“I got exactly what I wanted,” he says, smiling in a mischievous sort of way. “I’m going to load them right when I get home, take a closer look. Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the invite.”

“Anytime, Maxy, anytime at all.”

The moment I open the door to our apartment, Marcos is there. His phone is clutched in his hand and there is a wide-eyed look of distress on his face.

“Sorry,” I say immediately, because I am always the cause of his distress these days.

“Hey,” he says, in a carefully blank tone, “where were you? You weren’t answering your phone and I?—."

“Yeah, no, sorry. I left it in the car. I was at the beach.” Bending, I take off my shoes and stow them on the rack. When I stand back up, Marcos is looking at me questioningly.

“You went to the beach? For…for a run?”

“No,” I walk toward the kitchen, intending to make something for lunch. I am starving; hungry enough to eat an entire pizza. “I was with Luke, actually. Just…just hanging out. Hey, do you want to order pizza? I’m pretty hungry.”

Leaning my forearms on the counter, I pull up a delivery app. I don’t have to ask what Marcos wants, I know him better than I know myself.

“Who’s Luke? Wait—were you on a date?”

I glance up at him and laugh at the shocked expression on his face. I’d be offended if it wasn’t for the fact that I haven’t been on a date in over a year. “Yeah. You know Luke. Luke Kelly.”

“Luke Kelly,” he repeats in a tone that makes me pause. “Luke Kelly, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

He puts a hand to his forehead, cupping his palm over his eyes and breathing out hard like one of the horses in the Kentucky Derby. I stare at him, completely nonplussed. I’d say he doesn’t like Luke, but how can that be possible? Luke is great.

“Luke Kelly,” he mumbles, again. “Max…”

“What? You guys aren’t friends? I thought you liked all your baseball friends.”

---