Page 76 of The Art of Catching Feelings

“No,” he said, his eyes sparking. “It wouldn’t.”

THIRTY-FOUR

And because Chris was a good host, he shared his bed and showed Daphne the next morning that he wasn’t lying about the great showerhead pressure. He even offered her one of his smoothies for breakfast, but she wrinkled her nose at the spinach he added to his, letting him make her a fruit-and-yogurt-only version instead.

“So what’s the plan today?” he asked, leaning over the kitchen island counter.

“I actually had an idea for something we could go do,” she said. “I was going to make it a surprise, but I think it’s better if I tell you ahead of time to make sure you’d be into it. There’s this—”

He cut her off. “Keep it a surprise,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

She bit her lip, grabbing her phone out of her pocket to check something. It lit up with a brief glimpse of her lock screen, and he only caught a flash of the image, but it reminded him of something. He couldn’t think what. The urge to ask her again to exchange numbers was so strong, but he’d already told himself he wouldn’t bring it back up, that he’d wait for her to make the first move in that regard.

He just wished she would.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “It’s…I mean, I hope it will be fun. But it’s also kinda work, too. I can’t explain it without giving it away.”

Chris tried to think what it could even be. Maybe she wanted him to take her to some batting cages and teach her how to hit. Maybe an errand she had to run. She’d mentioned a couple issues with her apartment last night; maybe she needed him to change a lightbulb.

They all sounded fine to him.

“Let’s do it,” he said. “Should I dress any particular way?”

She hesitated. “Just in whatever you’d normally wear in public on a weekend, I guess. And bring your glove.”

—

The glove thing was at least a hint, so Chris dressed casually in a T-shirt and gym shorts, an old baseball cap from his minor league days. When he and Daphne were both at the door, ready to go, he saw she was wearing her Battery T-shirt again with his name and number on the back. Briefly, he thought about warning her—if she didn’twanttheir relationship to be public, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to wear his shirt. But then she turned to smile at him, and he found he personally didn’t care if the whole world knew.

He walked them out to his car, holding up the keys. “Want to drive?”

She seemed as taken aback as if he’d asked her if she wanted to pilot a fighter jet. “Oh, no, that’s okay. You can do it.”

He didn’t mind either way—he’d just thought it made sense if she knew where they were going and it was meant to be a surprise. But the extremity of her reaction needled at something inside him, and he found he wanted to know what was behind it.

“We can also take your car, if you don’t feel comfortable driving a car you’re not as familiar with.”

“Yours is fine,” she said, giving a nervous laugh. “I would be so tense driving you around. I would hate to be responsible if anything happened. Your body is probably insured for more than my life is worth.”

Something about thatreallydidn’t sit right with him. He didn’t know if it was being reduced to a highly valued body, if it was her devaluing whatshewas worth, or if it was that, if he was being honest, he usually didn’t get into a vehicle automatically thinking about the chances of a car accident and now he was a little unsettled.

“All right,” he said. “Not a big deal.”

He went to cross over to the driver’s side, but she’d already moved in front of the door. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

Chris had been the one to suggest it in the first place. He didn’t see why he’d have any reason to mind. But he supposed some people were pickier about their cars—he doubted Randy would let anyone else drive his sports car, Chris included. So maybe that’s all Daphne had been responding to. “I’m cool either way,” he said. “I thought you’d want to since you picked the location. But if you plug it into my phone GPS I can get us there.”

“I’ll drive,” she said, taking the keys from his hand.

For all that, Daphne wasn’t a bad driver. A little more cautious than he was, maybe—she drove with her hands almost adorably at a perfect ten-and-two, whereas he was more likely to have just one hand rest lightly on top of the steering wheel. She stopped for a couple yellow lights he would’ve pushed through, but all that probably just meant she was abetterdriver than him, by the book at least. Randy texted him more about the All-Star Game watch party tomorrow night, and he took a few minutes to text back,looking up only when he felt the car slow down and heard the crunch of gravel under its tires.

The sign was old, brick with a white wooden placard that had an outline picture of a baseball player andwendle little leaguesprinted in block letters. There were a few cars in the parking lot already, and one of the fields was currently in use, groups of kids wearing bright red shirts out there running drills. He turned to see Daphne watching him uncertainly, like she was trying to gauge his reaction.

“We don’t have to,” she said. “But I checked their website, and they’re running this special baseball summer camp right now. Half the kids are here through some sort of scholarship that helps families who can’t afford it. I thought we could stop in for a half hour or so, it doesn’t have to be long—you could throw a couple balls with them, give them some tips, sign a couple autographs, and then we’re out of here.”

He looked back out toward the field. There was a group of kids in the outfield, doing the same practice he remembered so clearly from when he was that age. It was a simple pop-fly drill, the coach hitting a ball out into center field, the first kid in line running to field it, throwing it back before the next kid took his place to do the same.

He did stuff with kids for the Battery all the time. Little League groups who got special passes to games, kids through charitable foundations who got to throw a first pitch, occasional school visits. After Sunday afternoon games the Battery let kids come out and run the bases and sometimes Chris ran them, too. It was one of his favorite parts of being a professional athlete, actually, that he had an opportunity to make a kid’s day by something as simple as tossing a ball up into the stands, that he could maybe be a mentor or role model in some small way.

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