Page 33 of The Beat of My Heart
“This way, she says,” pulling me in the opposite direction.
“Why aren’t you looking for forever, Angel?” I ask, stopping her in her tracks.
“Who said I wasn’t? Someday, it’ll happen, I know it will, so why force the issue? Especially with someone I meet in a city I visit every few months. I’m not planning to move, are you? I have responsibilities at home. Love happens when you don’t expect it. I spend my entire life learning what to expect, that is literally my job. You have shit going on too, I don’t need to know specifics to know that. So, the way I see it, you can take this for what it is and have fun, or you can walk on, but I am going to this game.”
Breaking free from my hand, she marches toward the street. I see it happen in slow motion. Storming off, she misses the step down from the sidewalk. My Angel, who is the least graceful person I’ve ever met, also has no self-preservation whatsoever. She starts to wind up her arms like a windmill, just as I reach her. Pulling her into my side, I breathe her in deeply. I need to stop doing that. As I exhale, I try to let my shit go so I don’t ruin the small amount of time we have together.
“Come on,” I say. “Show me this blueberry thing I need to try, but I swear to God if it is as bad as that red-headed slut, I will definitely spank you later.”
Sucking in air, she gulps audibly, and I laugh.
Leaning in so my lips touch her ear, I ask, “Would you like that, Angel? To be spanked right before I fuck you? Would you like to feel my hand meeting the flesh of your ass, just enough to sting? Then feel me soothe it as I kneed the pink flesh?”
Her entire body is flushing pink, and I feel ten feet tall, knowing I did that to her with just my words.
“Tonight, Angel. Tonight, we will experiment,” I tell her.
Once again, making our way to the front of the line at BeerWorks, I can’t help the smirk on my face as I watch a flustered Angel trying to hold a conversation with Mikey, the guy at the front door.
“Hi, Mikey. Nice to meet you, I’m Charlie.”
“Nice to meet ya, man. I hear this is your first game with Babycakes here. You’re in for a real treat. Don’t let her fool you, she looks all sweet and innocent, but she can get kicked out the park with the best of them,” he laughs.
Shocked, I look to Angel, who just shrugs, looking bored.
“What?” she asks, “I told you I’m not a fair-weather fan.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Mikey chimes in. “This pint-sized girl has brought more than one professional baseball player to his knees.”
Wide-eyed, I look between Angel and Mikey. “Surely, that’s not true?”
“Once, it happened once. I was a kid, and it was THE game of the century. I mean, come on, Schilling’s sock was soaked in blood. What did that guy expect? He should have been worried about his at-bat anyway, not what some kid in the stands was saying.”
“Like I said, good luck handling Babycakes in that stadium,” Mikey tells me. “Where are you sitting, anyway?”
I’m not going to lie, I’m getting nervous.
“Third-base dugout,” Angel grins.
“Oh shit!” Mikey barks out. Clapping me on the back, he says, “Good luck, man. You better chug a few beers, you’re going to need them.”
Rolling her eyes, Angel takes me by the hand and, once again, drags me inside.
Using her little body, she worms her way through the densely packed room, somehow clearing a path for me in her wake. Once we reach the back wall of the industrial-themed room, she weasels herself up to the bar where the bartender automatically hands her two beers. There’s no way she had time to even order them, so I assume the man behind the bar is another friend of hers.
“Here you go,” she says, handing me a beer with floating blueberries in it.
“What the hell is this?” I ask.
“A blueberry beer, another ritual. I’m not superstitious, except when it comes to baseball. Drink up,” she tells me.
Taking a sip through my teeth, I try to avoid the berries.
“Honestly? I’m not really a fan of the floaters,” I tell her.
“What? They are blueberries,” she explains like I didn’t hear her the first time.
“I know, and I like blueberries, but I can say confidently that I do not like them in my beer.”
