Page 139 of The Baller

We’d experienced some attention before Christmas, but it was clear they’d been easing us in. Or maybe it had ramped up because baseball season had been fast approaching, and news was slow otherwise.

I tried to hide the anxiety I was feeling about protecting Radley from the intrusion, especially when a small group of paparazzi followed us to the Bahamas where I’d whisked her off to for a vacation before the semester began. After photos were printed showing us on the beach, taken from long camera lenses nearly a mile away, I thought she’d retreat back into herself, yet she was nothing but calm. “I’m living my life,” she’d said simply.

Still, our next vacation wasnotgoing to be on the beach.

Every day there’d be something new, and I was beginning to doubt they’d ever get bored – school, restaurants, the movie theater, outside my apartment; there they’d lurk.

The only place we still hadn’t been found at yet was Asher’s. Radley had started her work experience the first Saturday in January, and she was already running the place, according to him. She had a natural talent for antiquarianism he’d said one day when I’d collected her from her eight-hour shift, because I was never allowed to stay on the days she worked, due to being too distracting.

I could live with being distracting, especially when it meant I’d get to hear all about her day over dinner that night.

She’d continued to add, and work through, her list; going to the gym alone, lunch alone, and more recently, shopping alone – which I’d been the beneficiary of when she gave me my own very private fashion show later that day.

And while she was crossing off her alone time, she’d also kept up her runs with Jake and his team. Before Spring training had started, we’d managed to cover all of Central Park, the Upper West Side, and down to the United Nations. Next up was Greenwich Village, the Financial District, and Battery Park. Her runs had become sacred, and she started every day with one – the days I hadn’t kept her in bed a little longer that is.

They were also somewhere she’d never been spotted, though we both knew it was only a matter of time, and in what was a first, the White House and an MLB team had joined forces. The Lions communications team took on the bulk for obvious reasons, and had hired someone solely to deal with the volume ofno commentsneeded to be put out. In the run up to today’s game, that had tripled.

Everyone wanted to know if Radley would be in attendance for the season opener.

“Okay, get your asses onto the field for warm ups!” Coach’s voice cut through the din, which only got louder.

Tanner nudged me. “Come on, let’s go out. If Radley’s there then Millie is too, and we can warm up near them. I’ll let Millie admire my ass.”

I wasn’t sure Millie would be doing that, although she seemed to be less snarly with him these days. Or maybe she’d just gotten used to him, and was more adept at ignoring him. Safe to say, Tanner still hadn’t won her over, no matter how hard he was trying. And he wastrying.

We could hear the crowds the second we stepped out of the locker room. As we made our way down the hallways toward the tunnel, passing by all the grounds-men finishing their preparations, to the field, the volume was almost deafening. It was enough to drown out the organist – the same organist Shepherd had gotten the past two years – a Lions fan based at St. Patrick’s Cathedral – to play our first home game of the season.

The smell of freshly cut grass and base paint hit my nostrils before we reached the field. Next to me, Tanner stopped walking and breathed in deeply. I was too hyped up to stop for a deep breath; I wanted to get out there.

Get to Radley.

She was sitting behind the dugout in the executive seats with Millie and her brothers. My mom, Sienna, Maddie, and Holiday were all there too. Delaney had also been invited, given we were playing The Braves, but she point blank refused. Ben and Henry would also have rather been elsewhere, and were only in attendance under duress because they’d lost a game of beer pong against Radley and me the first time I'd visited the White House, for our official first meeting.

If I’d lost, I’d agreed to wear a Phillies shirt in public the next time I went out with Radley. If they lost, they had to attend the Lions Opening Day.

The fact both of them were wearing the Phillies uniform made it clear to anyone, including the media, where their allegiances lay.

That was fine with me; I only cared about Radley.

Radley, my girlfriend, was wearing my shirt and looking so impossibly beautiful I stopped dead in my tracks the second I spotted her.

Because the Lions media team had no doubt been waiting, the jumbotron screen split immediately; one half was me looking up at Radley, the other half was Radley grinning at me. Millie nudged an elbow into her side, nodding her chin up to the jumbotron until she saw herself staring back. To her credit, she went much less pink than I expected her to, especially when Ben and Henry each chugged their beer next to her, in whatever drinking game they were playing.

“I’m gonna catch you a ball, Millie!” yelled Tanner, joining his fingers to make a little heart shape as we jogged past.

Millie responded by lifting her bottle in the air, making me wonder if the bottle didn’t contain water but hard liquor and Millie was drunk, because there was no way she’d have acknowledged him publicly otherwise. Even Tanner was shocked, given the way he rubbed his eyes to check he hadn’t been seeing things.

And then a smile split his face, right before he jumped on me. “Fuck, yes! I’m finally getting somewhere.”

Tanner made good on his promise.

The first ball off the first bat flew straight into Tanner’s glove. Ace had thrown fast and hard. Not many players would have made contact on the first swing, but all credit to Bryson Horne for attempting it, even if it didn’t make it far. Tanner tossed the ball high in the air, blew a kiss to Millie, and caught it again before throwing it back to Ace.

The rest of the game continued in the same vein. The Lions made it to bat fifteen minutes later after the Braves failed to score. As always, Jupiter was first up and made it to third base. Parker went next, stopping on second and bringing Jupiter safely home. By the time I was at bat we were one up; Parker and Boomer Jones had both been caught out.

I could feel Radley’s eyes on me as I stepped to the plate. I could still feel the kiss she’d given me before I’d left for the stadium this morning, her tongue stroking against mine while she whispered she loved me, and told me to give her a win today. I could still picture her smile, her head lolling to the side as she slowly rode my dick, rolling her hips in a way that she knew drove me crazy, until my heart was so full of her, I was convinced I would burst.

Radley. My love.

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