Page 23 of Wild Pitch
Annoying Cowboy
No time like the present
Come down to the lobby
Me
What if I had plans already?
Annoying Cowboy
If it was with anyone else you wouldn’t need me
Me
With MYSELF
His three dots come and go several times until he sends a string of texts.
Annoying Cowboy
Oh
You’re right
I shouldn’t have assumed that wasn’t a valid option
Good night
“Ugh!” I slap my forehead. I know I’m right in taking a stance. Even if we have a working arrangement, he needs to be considerate of my time too. But he is the one providing the favor, and I’m privy to his schedule and know we won’t have another fairly chill night like tonight for about a week.
Me
Okay wait
I’ll make an exception
After hitting send, I realize how much of a jerk I sound and I freeze. So does my brain, because apparently I can’t think of a single thing to patch that up a bit.
Annoying Cowboy
See you in the lobby
Of course, this is when I realize that I’m in my sports bra and boy shorts, and I sincerely doubt Starr or anyone else will want to see that.
I bid a heartfelt goodbye to the television and turn it off to go in search of something to wear. I don’t pack a lot of options because I’m not a fan of a heavy suitcase, and most of my clothes are official apparel, but I did bring a pair of faded boyfriend jeans and three basic tops from the GAP. White sneakers, wallet chained to my jeans, some chapstick, my phone and the room card, and I’m making my way down the elevator in record time. I tap my toe against the elevator’s panel wall, urging it to go faster.
My limbs tingle with nerves because I have no idea what Starr has in store. He could either come outright to say that he’s changed his mind and that I’m acting ridiculous and need to grow up—which, fair—or pull a worse move like standing me up just like some of the app dates have.
“Nah,” I mumble to myself. “Starr seems more standup than I thought.”
The elevator dings to signal the arrival and my heart seems to jump in my throat. A busy lobby at seven on a random Thursday night feels odd, like maybe what I expected was to find Cade Starr standing by himself waiting for me.
I step out and almost get ran over by a couple exiting the other elevator. The laughter of some dude bros gets my attention, but they’re not any of the Wild players or staff so I ignore them. I sweep my eyes around, trying to find a cowboy-shaped pitcher, and instead spot our catcher at the reception. He’s explaining something in that calm, measured way of his, but I don’t think the receptionist is paying any attention to hiswords. She looks completely besotted at the sight of a Korean American baseball superstar with chiseled features and deep eyes. I’m so glad I didn’t strike the coaching deal with Logan Kim, because maybe I’d look just like the receptionist.
“Over here.”
My spine stiffens at the familiar voice with a twang. I veer left and it gets me out of the shade of some tall potted plants, and there’s the cowboy. With the Boricua.
