Page 69 of Totally Geeked

“Exactly, our game is way better.”

“Are you a good singer?” she asks, as another child hands me an autograph book and I laugh. “Not really. I’m pretty good at pretending.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises and then moves along to get the rest of her signatures.

I sign a few more things, then the music starts to get louder over the speakers. Dennis has been dying to use a High School Musical song in one of his intros, and tonight, he finally gets his wish. Alan was first to put up his hand for the lead and as he is spotlighted making his way from the stairs to the field, he mimes the intro for Get’cha Head In The Game.

I make my way to the pitch and join the rest of my team in formation around Alan. The song was made for basketball, but Dennis has worked in baseball tosses across the circle, and bat flips, and even though we aren’t in perfect sync, it looks pretty cool even from where I’m standing. I can’t wait to watch the video.

We get to the end of our routine and immediately the OGs take to the pitch, rushing the field as The Eye Of The Tiger blasts from the speakers, and the crowd all rise to their feet.

All it does is fire me up. I’m more determined than ever to show them who the real stars are tonight.

We take our places out on the pitch, the smell of the leather of my glove welcoming me home. That’s what this place is for me. It’s home. I settle into position in front of the umpire and throw Gordon the signal for a curveball the second the batter is in the box. His pitch flies right into my glove and the crowd’s cheers are deafening.

“We can do this all night,” I say to the hitter, and he shakes his head.

“What else can you do all night?” he asks, and the second ball flies past him right into my glove again.

“My boyfriend, but spectators are not our thing. Do you think you want to hit one of these or are you just here to chat?”

I throw Gordon another signal for a curveball, and he shakes his head.

“I heard you’re up for anything.”

“I’m only up for one man now, so either hit the ball or hit the road,” I say, signaling a fastball to Gordon, and he nods and sends it flying down. The hitter gets a hold of it, and when the crack of his bat hits the ball, it goes soaring into right field.

“Like that?” he asks with a smile, then drops the bat and takes off toward first base. I jump to my feet, watching the ball the whole time, and Arthur Green running toward it. Come on, man! My stomach is churning faster with each passing second. Arthur gets under it, his arm stretches out, and the ball lands perfectly in his grasp.

Yes!

The umpire calls out and half the crowd cheers, while the hitter smirks my way and throws me a wink as he wanders back to the dugout.

I shake my head. That guy has nothing I want, and as I retake my place in the box, I glance over at Arlo, his sweet smile directed squarely at me. He mouths, I love you and all I want to do is kiss him. So I pull off my helmet as the next batter is walking onto the field. We have so many skits set up between pitches and innings that the crowd just think this is one of those times. Except there is no music playing, other than the drumming beat of my heart calling me to him. I rush to the side of the field and jump up onto the rail. Arlo’s seat is right up front, and he’s got his sketchbook in his lap, shaking his head at me.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot to get a good luck kiss,” I say, and he laughs.

“You're going to get in trouble.”

“Only if you make me wait too long,” I reply, and he smiles that perfect fucking smile, puts the notebook down on the ground, and steps toward me. The crowd is cheering, the coach is yelling at me to get back in the box, and I can feel Gordon's eyes boring into my back, but I don’t care about any of that.

“It was only a few weeks ago I couldn't read aloud to a room full of strangers and now you want me to kiss you in front of thousands of people?” he asks, one hand reaching out to cup my face.

“Shit, I didn’t think of that. You don’t have to—” I start, but then he leans in and his lips press against mine. It only lasts a split second.

“Now get out there and win this,” he says, and I jump back off the rail and jog toward the box.

“You good now, Roe?” Coach calls, and I smile and nod.

“Yep, all good, Coach.” I crouch in the box and lock eyes with Gordon, his lips upturned in a smile I thought I would never see when he looked at me and his brother. I guess I should thank the universe for that, too. “Let’s go, Gordie. We’ve got this!”

Epilogue

(SIX MONTHS LATER)

Harrison sets the framedown on the coffee table. “I think it should go here,” he says, turning it so that the sketch of him is facing toward the entry to the room.

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