Page 26 of For Butter or Worse
@lyonessaomg omg omg you twoooooo
@ninaleostandomholy flaming cheetos, they are totally dating
@leosmooshmeyou owe me $20
@ninamazzzeCOME TO MY HOUSE, WE LOVE YOU
@marrymeleo4everHe’s mine, bish!
@pizzaratizmehot pumpkins... (o)(o)...
@karensimmonsWith all due respect, not a flattering outfit or color on you.
@doughnotcareur bio says, “Love God, thy neighbor, and tacos”
@karensimmonsyeah
@doughnotcare...
@karensimmons?
@doughnotcareannndddd we’re done here
11
LEO
“Don’t overthink this,” Gavin warned. “Just go with your gut. What do you want? What would make you happy?”
Leo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The sun was beating down on them, and he pulled his baseball cap lower. How to even begin to answer those questions?
Then what he wanted—no, needed—came to him as clear as the crack of the bat meeting the ball.
“A pretzel. Lots of salt. Cheese dip.” Leo didn’t take his eyes off the field. The Dodgers’ left fielder scrambled to the outfield wall, but the ball hit by the opposing team was out of there. Worse, the bases had been loaded—a grand slam. The game was not going well.
“Okay, I’ll get that. Plus the ice cream that comes in the hat.” His brother paused thoughtfully, then added, “And a Dodger dog.” Gavin stood up and made the awkward shimmy down the row of seats toward the stairs.
One of the best parts of coming to a game was the food. That, and spending time outside of the restaurant with his brother. They’d grown up coming to games with their dad. Making the pilgrimage to Dodger Stadium for a few games every year was necessary.
Leo took a sip of his lukewarm beer. The Dodgers were behind by five. It was the top of the sixth. A kid behind him gently kicked the back of his chair. This was his day off. He was supposed to be relaxing. He should relax.
And even though he was in a mostly full stadium, surrounded by people yelling at the players, and the blare of the announcer’s voice, without Gavin next to him the place felt very quiet. So quiet that Leo’s anxiety started to go from a low hum in the back of his mind to front and center.
He needed distractions. Like his brother’s rambling. Or food so crunchy, salted and fried that it would overload his senses. Hell, he’d even settle for one of those stadium waves that required his full attention so he’d be in sync with everyone else standing up and throwing their hands in the air. Because when he was alone with his thoughts, they inevitably wandered back to Nina. Specifically, he wanted to know what she’d thought of their day together.
Because for him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply, deeply wrong. He hadn’t left their date fuming, or on edge. They’d spent time alone together, and it had gone...fine. Better than fine, actually, because he hadn’t minded being with her at all. They’d made the occasional dig at each other, but beyond that, no major fights. If the outing had been with anyone other than her, he might even have thought they’d had fun.
Which was why he needed a reality check from Nina. He’d feel so much better if she just texted him a message that said something like “by the way, I still hate you and your stupid face” to snap him out of thinking that everything had gone well.
He checked his phone just in case, but there were no new messages from Nina. Just a selfie of Gavin with his tongue out and dangerously close to Leo’s soft pretzel. As he pocketed his cell, his sunglasses slid down his nose from the thin layer of sweat on his face. Gavin never remembered to get them seats in the shaded part of the stadium, which meant Leo always ended up sweating buckets through every game.
“Hello!” a pointed voice called out. “Could I get a picture with you?”
He looked to his right and saw a middle-aged woman grinning back at him, a cell phone in her palm. Her husband pretended to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket, his cheeks so red he was either sunburned or mortified.
“Of course.” Leo smiled kindly. He always took photos when people asked, because coming up to someone took guts. Plus, he could use the diversion, and, if he was really being honest, the ego boost.
“Visiting from Michigan. Thought we’d spot celebrities all over the city.” The way she said “city” sounded more like “ciddy,” her Michigan accent coming through. “But you’re the first we’ve met!”
