Page 25 of Runaway Pride

“I’m going to get us something to eat before they start. What would you like?” Rick asked.

“Let me get them.” She put a firm hand on him, appearing determined. “What do they serve here?”

“Beer, sodas, hot dogs, nachos, and maybe a chicken sandwich,” he listed. “They might have a salad—” highly unlikely “—and pizza.”

“Oh.” She looked cute and disappointed. “What would you like?”

“I’ll get them, Charlie.”

“No, no. I want to go,” she said, pushing him back down in his seat.

“Listen, I appreciate you offering, but I will look like a dick if people see you carrying everything while I sit here on my ass.”

Her expression was introspective. “Okay, how about you get the food this round, and I’ll do the next?”

After agreeing, he left for the snack station. By the time he went back to his seat, the stadium got busier.

“Yum,” Charlie chimed when taking a dainty bite of her sausage. “I’ve never watched a baseball game before, not even on screen,” she said through a full mouth. “I don’t know the rules, but I’m guessing you need to hit the ball as many times as possible to score points for your team to win.”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “But there are a lot of conditions in baseball that it gets confusing. I would pay attention to the players making runs on each plate. Sometimes we’ll get exciting home runs.”

“Home runs are when the batter hits the ball off the field?”

“That, and whichever player makes it to the home plate without getting tagged.”

A few hours passed without issue. Rick was having a fantastic time. His team was tied with the rival team in the fourth inning with 2-2. While Charlie didn’t follow too deep into the game, she was well-versed enough to know when the excitement happened and cheered along with him and the crowd.

Noticing their food running out, she stood. “Rick, I’m going to get some more drinks. Beer or soda?”

“Hmm,” he murmured with his concentration on the field. “Just a large Coke.”

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

He thanked her while sipping the last drops of their soda cup. The stadium was almost too loud to hear.

Curt Smith went up to pitch, with John Harold batting. Oneswing and it was a strike. Two more strikes later and Harold was out, but Jason Moren moved past to second base.

Rick sat with his focus trained directly on the field and the scoreboard. It was getting neck and neck, and his team was doing poorly this season, so he wanted to see something encouraging.

As he tried sipping the soda cup, he realized how long Charlie was gone. Over twenty minutes.

Smith pitched out another batter, and Moren got to third base. This could mean another point for home.

Rick got up, but slowly, his eyes on the players. Before he made it out of his row, a middle-aged, shorter man with a blue beanie approached him.

“You ‘Rick’?” the man asked.

“Yeah.” Rick replied.

“Your girlfriend fell while taking the stairs with all the food she carryin’,” the guy informed, his tone accusing. “Had no one to help her. Hurt her ankle and all. Told me to ask for a Rick in 205C.”

What the…

“Excuse me.” Rick shoved past the stocky older man and hurried down the stairs three steps at a time as concern ran deep.

Charlie was hurt.

She said she was getting a drink. How did she end up with more?

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