Page 4 of Fielder's Choice

“Yeah,” he drawls. “You could say I’m a fan.”

“They’re pretty good, huh?”

Wow, I’m absolute shit at small talk.

The man next to him laughs. “Would’ve been better if they won the World Series.”

The cute guy chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Don’t mind him. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Considering I spent the past six years holed up in my bedroom at my parent’s house, he certainly hasn’t.

“It’s a big city,” I say.

“Yeah, and I’d remember a face like yours.”

He bites his bottom lip, and my body immediately heats up.

Oh!

He’s flirting withmenow.

I giggle like a schoolgirl while pushing my hair over my shoulder. “You say that to all the girls, don’t you?”

“I don’t say that to any girls,” he admits.

“Oh,” I squeak out, losing any bit of confidence I have by the second. I didn’t expect a man that looks likethisto flirt with somebody as fucked up as I am.

He gives a low laugh while his friend watches us in amusement. “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

I debate momentarily about giving him a false name. He doesn’t know me, and in a city of eight million people, we’re unlikely to run into each other again.

He’d never know.

But the words flow out before I can give it too much thought.

“My name is Liv.”

two

Lane

Liv.

I like that.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” I smile, leaning in closer to the woman beside me.

She’s undeniably stunning. She’s taller—maybe 5’7”—with long, dark brown hair and deep green eyes. Her voice is sweet, and if her build is any indication, she’s athletic.

I can tell she’s younger than me, but I don’t care.

It’s not abnormal for me to be approached when I’m out in public—I’m the center fielder for the New York Stars. Almost everyone in this city knows who I am.

But she doesn’t.

She commented on the fact that I was wearing a Stars shirt without giving any indication that she recognized me or Ari.

It’s nice to be approached not just because of who I am.

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