Page 31 of Totally Fanatic

“You look like you want to go all Steve Irwin on that guy.”

“Steve Irwin was a pacifist.”

He snort-laughs. “Please. He wrestled crocodiles.”

“So?”

“Soooo, why do you look like you want to rip that guy’s head off? Oh, wait, is he Lion’s date?”

“No. He’s just a guy his sister sold the extra ticket to. They got him the passes for his birthday, it was the full tour pack thing that came with two tickets to every game. So his sister has been selling off the other seat, just for what the regular price of the ticket would be, then that money pays for his hotels and travel and stuff so he can fund coming on tour with us.” I don’t know why I felt like I needed to tell him all that.

“They don’t upsell it?”

“Fuck no. Lion said he wanted to give it away, but his sister insisted on at least selling it for cost. You can ask him all about it at dinner tonight. He’s picking the place.”

“Oh, Ian will be in, too. He’s back on Banana Ball after filling in for the tool on hockey last week.”

“The more the merrier,” I say as the kids in the latest sack race jump and fall over the line. I hope it’s not a horrible idea subjecting Lion to the guys all at once.

Bart comes out onto the field in his yellow suit. You would think he would change it up once in a while, but no. It’s the yellow suit and shoes at every game and the crowd loves it.

“Who’s ready for an amazing night?” he calls into the mic, and the crowd cheers. We start to guide the spectators back to their seats, and the OG teams strut onto the field, spinning and bobbing to the music.

“This looks like it might be one of the best crowds we’ve seen, am I right, guys?” he asks and we all nod and clap, and the crowd grows even louder. “But this music is a bit much, can we cut it? Come on, guys. Cut the music. Cut it!”

The music stops with a crackle of the speaker and the crowd falls silent, too. The OG players are looking back and forth,frowning and shaking their heads. A few of them shrug like they have no idea what’s going on. You can tell these guys have been doing this awhile because their acting is on point. I can tell from a few faces of people near me that not everyone believes this is part of an act. They really think Bart just shut their shit down.

Taylor Blackstone, pitcher for the OG’s, throws a nod toward his teammates, and someone tosses him a mic.

“Yo, Bart. Come on, man. Please don’t stop the music,” he asks, and then the whole team pulls mics from behind their backs, forming a triangle on the field before they repeat “please don’t stop the,“ three times, players joining in each go, just like in the moviePitch Perfect. The crowd erupts on the word music, and the team do their thing, dancing the same choreography the Treblemakers do on stage in the film. It’s fucking awesome.

We’re all dancing in the crowd with the fans, and I keep glancing Lion’s way. He’s on his feet, too, dancing and cheering with everyone else. The guy beside him is just as into it. That pang hits my gut, the unease that used to swell around me before every game. I try to shake it away but seeing him having so much fun with someone else makes me want to jog over there and take his place.

But I’m playing in this game, and I’ll need to get on the field if I am going to be in position when the first pitch is thrown. I force myself to look away and regain focus as I jog out onto the field, but my gaze moves back to Lion over and over.

The first few pitches go by, the balls never coming close to where I am but then the OG’s Billy Hall steps up to bat and he points out in my direction, calling where he thinks he’s going to send the ball out of the park. My eyes flick to Lion. I made sure to find him in the crowd before the game started so I would know right where to look when I needed him. He’s leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, and he’s watching me. Only me. I know it. I can feel his eyes on me,and an energy buzzes through the grass up my legs and over my whole body. It’s just like when he coaxed me to hit that home run last week. The rush spreads through me, and I’m focused. Determined. I want to be better. I want to be amazing. For him.

The bat connects, and just as he predicted, it comes flying my way. But I see it. And in two seconds I’m under it, ready for my backflip catch. It’s perfect. The whole crowd cheers, but my eyes go right to Lion, and he’s on his feet, hands in the air, smiling, just for me.

Chapter twelve

LION

The place I pickedfor dinner is only a block from the hotel where the team is staying. I wasn’t sure how many of Tim’s friends were joining us so I asked for their biggest table and because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late, I headed there right after the game, even though I knew they would need to shower and change. I don’t mind waiting. There’s music playing, and I have time to post a few videos I took of Tim tonight to my socials. I’m just done logging into the last account to share and comment on all the posts when Tim walks in the door.

His hair is tied back in a sleek ponytail, higher than normal, I guess when he’s not on the field he doesn’t have to worry about fitting it through that little section at the back of his baseball cap. The soft lights of the restaurant are giving his tanned Australian skin an even richer tone. The hostess walks him over, and I can tell the exact moment Tim sees me, because his eyes lock on mine, and he smiles a brilliant wide grin that creates that perfect little dimple in his left cheek. It’s impossible not to mirror it back.

I knew Tim and I would be friends, but seeing how happy I made him, and the way that he kissed me tells me that maybe we can be so much more. Maybe we are meant to be. Like with how the distribution system brought me the boys, they also brought me Tim and Tim me. Tonight is going to be amazing.

“Hi,” I say, pulling out a chair for Tim as soon as he reaches me.

“Hi, Lion, thanks for finding this place. You remember Duckie,” Tim says, sitting and right there behind him is Brendan Grant, otherwise known as Duckie. He used to be a sports reporter who liked to hide ducks everywhere, then he joined the team somehow, and now he’s one of their best players. Not better than Tim, though.

“Yeah, hi. Your catch in the third inning was great,” I say, holding out my hand for him to shake it.

“Thanks. You remember Ian,” he says, and I nod and shake his hand next.

“So lovely to see you again. Tim said you’re a fan of the team. Me, too. But I’m also Brendan’s boyfriend.”

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