Page 139 of Nothing Like the Movies

She made me the happiest guy on the planet when she rolled her eyes, then said, “I don’t have anything else going on.”

I opened the door, and we got out of the truck, then ran back to the car to get my bag before he pulled away.

And once he did, we were suddenly surrounded by the silence of the residential neighborhood after dark.

“Wow, it’s so quiet,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper as we stood on the sidewalk. “So what’s the plan?”

“I thought we’d take some BP.” I’d noticed that Liz always seemed super engaged during batting practice. She was all over the place, taking a million shots and looking mesmerized, so why not hit some balls?

“The school is closed, dumbass,” she said, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the dark, deserted baseball field.

“If I recall, you know how to climb a fence.”

She made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a groan. “True, but I wasn’t wearing four-inch wedges at the time.”

“I’ll throw you over,” I volunteered.

“No, thank you,” she said, making a face like I was ridiculous, but her mouth was sliding into a smile.

God, I love her.

“I will piggyback-climb you,” I offered.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Yes, it does,” I said, walking close enough to the outfield fence to throw my bag over. “Get on my back, hold on tight, and I’ll climb the fence for the both of us.”

Her eyes got squinty, and she said, “I don’t think that will work.”

“I think it will, Libby—come on,” I urged, bending my knees and smacking my ass. “Get on.”

She gave a laugh and shook her head. “I think this sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Untie those shoes, though,” I said, looking at her feet. Those shoes made her legs look incredible, but they weren’t made for climbing fences. “I don’t want you breaking your ankle when we land.”

“When weland?” she said, laughing harder. “So you’re acknowledging we’re going to fall.”

“?‘Land’ is a word that encompasses all landings, on foot or on ass,” I clarified. “Take off your shoes, sunshine, and let’s do this.”

“You’re such a bully,” she teased.

I said, “You’re such a chicken.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t make me make the noise,” I taunted, distracted by the twinkle in her eyes.

“Spare me yourbokk-bokks, Bennett,” she said, kneeling down and untying her left shoe. “Also—how am I going to see the ball in the dark?”

“I have portable lights in my bag.”

“Is that a normal baseball thing?” she asked, untying her right shoe. “To carry around lights.”

“No, but I’m not a normal baseball player.”

“That tracks.” She stepped out of her shoes and held them in her hand. “Okay. What now?”

“Now,” I said, grabbing her shoes and throwing them over the fence, “you climb on me like a good girl.”

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