Page 33 of Capitally Unexpected

I stick my head into the hallway, noting how pleased Hunter looks. “Tickets?”

“Here.” He holds out what’s in his right hand toward me. I take the bundle of blue and red cloth. The curly W on both items comes into focus.

“Nats gear. Are we going to a game?” I say, my excitement rising to meet Hunter’s.

He nods. “We are. We’re using Duncan’s seats on the suite level. I bought the hats so we’d have some team spirit, but he had the jerseys waiting when I stopped in.” He rolls his eyes in the fond way you have when a loved one is predictably over the top.

“Walk a bit, outdoors, but with airflow. I should have guessed a Nats game,” I say, fitting the hat on my head and shrugging on the jersey. Hair question solved. “I can’t believe Duncan has tickets available on such a short notice.”

Hunter has put on his jersey too, and my eyes are drawn to the way the red sleeves offset the bright colors of the tattoos covering the rest of his arms.

“What’s this one?” I ask, pointing at a tattoo near his wrist I haven’t heard the story about yet.

“Well, it’s a humpback whale,” he says, his eyes glancing up to meet mine, before looking back down at the tattoo.

I nod. “I assumed an aquatic mammal, but didn’t want to guess the wrong one. Is there a story behind it?”

Hunter keeps his eyes on the art, a whale under crashing waves, his finger stroking across it once. “Humpback whales communicate via these haunting and eerie songs. Some scientists are pretty sure they’re for mating. Sometimes they sing near where they’re feeding. There’s probably a lot we’ll never know about what they’re trying to say. I’ve felt a lot like that at some points. I’m communicating but haven’t found the right person to listen to me. To understand.”

He looks up at me, his eyes open and vulnerable with the parts of him he laid bare for me. Mine start to water with the trust he’s showing me.

“That’s really beautiful. I’d ...” I take a deep breath in,wanting to return his vulnerability with some of my own. “I’d like to learn your whale songs. Find out what they mean.”

We stand in silence for a moment, our eyes locked.

After a beat, Hunter clears his throat. “We should probably head out.”

I nod. “Sure thing. Let me go grab my belt bag.”

As I walk toward my room, I hear him mutter. “Thank God.”

“What?” I ask, slinging the bag strap over my shoulder and walking past him again to head to the door.

“Oh, I thought it would be criminal if your jersey covered your ass in those shorts. Luckily, it doesn’t.”

My back still facing Hunter, my cheeks pinch from the smile that breaks across my face. I school it into something hopefully resembling scolding when I turn around to face him. “You talk to all your first dates with that mouth?”

“First? This is our third date,” he says, locking the door behind me as we start toward the Metro.

“How do you figure?” I ask, adjusting the bill of my hat, wishing I’d grabbed my sunglasses.

I look up and Hunter is holding said sunglasses out to me. “Well, the night we met has to count as date one. I did cook you a meal.” I laugh and he continues. “And then the night you told me about little Cumulus, definitely date number two. Possibly even more memorable.” He grabs my hand as we enter a cross walk.

“Date number three it is then,” I say, and give up on containing my grin when I see Hunter sporting a matching one.

“I knew you’d see it my way.” He lets me onto the escalator taking us down to the Dupont Circle Station first and stands behind me. I turn to look at him as we descend underground. The late-afternoon sunlight glows around his outline, and I’m thankful once more he grabbed my sunglasses. I can’t seem to look away.

“I’m just saying, if every team raced something during the game, it would really bring something to the in-person experience,” I say as Hunter unlocks our front door after the game.

“We watched two Cy Young winners engage in a pitching duel, and you’re still focused on the racing presidents?”

“I mean, is it really a duel if there are no shots fired? There weren’t any hits until the eighth inning. That’s boring!” I drop onto the couch and accept the bottle of water Hunter hands me a moment later. I take a few swallows before saying, “You’re right. The cotton candy was a mistake.”

He laughs. “I’ll always support you to eat whatever you want. It seemed a little dicey mixed on top of the loaded tater tots, nachos, and ice cream.”

“I’ll blame Cumulus for the spun sugar. They couldn’t pass up a food that looked light and fluffy, just like them. Though to be honest, they wanted the nachos and ice cream too.”

“But the tater tots?”

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