Page 25 of Totally Fanatic

I wonder how Lion is getting there. Maybe he’s on a bus, too. Not this bus because this is our league bus and only players and coaches are on here. But maybe on another bus. I open up my socials app, breaking myonly when I’m eating rulejust this once. It’s a six-hour trip, and Duckie has already dipped out of his seat to head up the aisle to talk to a few of the guys. I know what he’s really doing. I spotted the little yellow duck in his hand when he crouched down beside Coach Miles.

I start on my feed and comment on a few posts, Kittyball100, Lion, hasn’t commented on these ones yet, which is weird, because he’s usually one of the first to say something about a picture or video I’m in.

A void fills my stomach the longer I go without seeing his handle. It’s weird for him not to post. Not to comment. I hope he’s okay. Maybe something happened with one of his cats, or maybe the cat distribution system decided he needed another one, and now he’s stuck at the vet’s trying to decide on a name and forgetting all about my game in Tampa.

It’s like a giant hole is in the place my stomach used to be and the void creeps higher. “You look pale, are you okay?” Ryan asks, and I force a smile and nod.

“Fine, just hungry, I think.”

“Oh, I have food. Grab my bag from up top. There’s a container with flapjacks inside.

“Okay, I’m not sure I know what they are. Are they pancakes?”

“No, they’re like an oat bar made with golden syrup. You’ll like them, just grab the bag before you pass out and I have to wake Alan to pick you up off the floor.”

I do as he says, my stomach churning. Maybe that’s all this is. I’m hungry. Did I eat this morning? I meant to. I got out the yogurt, but did I eat it? Oh shit, did I leave yogurt on my counter?

I munch down on one of the bars, and fuck, it’s good. The gooey, buttery sweetness helps a little, but I’m still scrolling through posts with no boost that they normally bring. Until I see his name.

The second I read his post, his excitement to see me play, his photo of the jersey he’ll be wearing on top of an overnight bag and an orange fluffy cat on top of that is just too cute. The caption reads,Someone thinks they can hide in my bag and come see Tim play in Tampa. Sorry, Daffin, Daddy will be home as soon as Tim hits it out of the park.

He really thinks I can hit a home run. Me. A 2B. I mean I got close a few times, so I guess it’s not completely out of the realm of possibilities. I could do it. No, I can do it. Actually, fuck that. I will do it. Yep, Lion, you are coming to Tampa, and I will get you your home run.

“See, you just needed my cooking, you look better already,” Ryan says, and I lean back in the chair and grin down at my phone at the real reason I feel good. I think Lion was what I needed.

Chapter ten

LION

I’m a few rowsto the left and behind the dugout, and when Tim steps out and turns to face the crowd, I immediately stand and wave so he can see me.

“You got this!” I cheer, and he steps up to bat.

Gordon lines up for the pitch, and when he sends it down, Tim holds off on his swing, and it’s called a ball.

“Knock it out of the park!” I yell, not knowing if he can even hear me over the rumblings of the crowd. I hope he can. The air is thick with excitement from the crowd. It’s like they can feel it, too, that something special is about to happen. I can feel it.

Gordon lines up. Tim digs his front foot into the dirt.You got this,I think, and then Gordon sends the ball down. It’s another fast ball, but this time, Tim swings, and with a crack, the ball is sent soaring over the field. I’m on my feet, half the crowd are, too, watching as it flies over the fence and into the crowd for a walk-off home run.

“Fucking yeah!” I scream, and the crowd erupts as Tim starts off at a slow jog. Ryan dashes out to pass him a pole, and with afew swings the Australian flag emerges and flies above him the whole way. Everyone is on their feet cheering now. It’s his first home run of the year, and when he crosses home plate, all the Funky Monkeys have joined him on the dirt. The music changes. Tim passes off the flag to an umpire, and then the team starts dancing to the Men At Work song, “Down Under”. They stomp and swagger, and the crowd eats it up. Tim’s smile has never been wider, and he’s looking right at me.

I knew he could do it.

***

“This was fun, thanks again for the ticket,” Colin, my sister’s latest attempt at a setup, says as we make our way out of the stadium. “So, do you think you might want to grab a bite to eat?”

“I was going to see if Tim wanted to check out this barbeque place here in town, but you can come, too, if you want.”

“Oh, umm, no, that’s fine. I didn’t realize… Never mind.”

“Okay. I’m glad you had fun. See you later.”

“Yeah, see you later,” Colin says, and I head over to the side wall of the stadium to message Tim, but before I can send off the text, Mouse is calling me.

“How did it go with Colin? He’s cute, right?”

“He’s okay, I guess.”

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