“Cinnamon doesn’t annoy me. Being likened to a cinnamon bundoes.”
“And then there’s me,” he said. “I obviously top thelist.”
“So, you do have anotebook.”
“Of course not. I keep the list on my phone for easyaccess.”
I trained my eyes forward but heard the smile in hisvoice.
We paused for a cab rounding the corner, then crossed the street. “I’m going to need proof of this alleged date, you know,” headded.
“Fine,” I said. “That shouldn’t be aproblem.”
His smirk gave him away. He didn’t believe therewasadate.
Well, if proof was what he wanted, I’d find a way to give it to him. That gave me even more reasons to not only go on the date, but to spite Sebastian by enjoyingit.
12
Georgina
It was entirelypossible my “common interest” revelation was a dud. I would’ve thought two baseball fans at a Yankees game would have lots to talk about, but with several innings left, François and I were struggling to keep the conversation going. OrIwas struggling. He was just watching thegame.
“Do you like beer?” I askedhim.
In a Yankees cap and Louisiana State polo shirt, an odd combination I still hadn’t gotten used to, François leaned his elbows on his knees as the opposing team’s first baseman moved to the batter’s box. “I was drinking one when we met,remember?”
“Right.” I waited for him to catch on to my line of thinking, but he just eyed the mound as ifhewas up to bat. “I can go get us one,” Ivolunteered.
“I don’t typically drink before the sun sets,” he said, glancing back at me. “Doyou?”
“Well, no,” I said. Did brunch cocktails count? “But itisbaseball. The rules are different on the diamond,François.”
“Call me Frank.” He rubbed his nose. “I don’t want to be fuzzy for the rest of the game, but go ahead if youwant.”
I hated that Neal popped into my mind on my first date since our breakup, but he’d said that same thing a lot—if you want—and in a way that made it clear he disapproved. We could hire a cleanerif I wanted, even though we wouldn’t have an issue if I just picked up after myself more. Skipping the gym was fineif you don’t mind those extra pounds, but he’d be cycling the length of Brooklyn.If that’s how you want to spend the little money we havehe’d say in the same tone when I’d look up Cliffs of Mohercruises.
I doubted Frank had meant it that way—it was my own issues that made it feel combative—but how had I gotten mixed up with a guy who was too tightly wound to day drink? Baseball was not the kind of sport that required a lot of concentration, even for the most devoted fan. And it was usually better with beer because the innings could drag sometimes. But maybe I wasn’t being fair. Getting buzzed alone didn’t sound all that appealinganyway.
“I’m good,” I said, “I’ll just grab somethinglater.”
“How about these seats?” he asked, clapping through a play. “Pretty great,right?”
“Better than I’m usedto.”
“How’d you get into baseball?” heasked.
“My dad.” I’d already mentioned that partway through the first inning, but Frank had been distracted. “I grew up in Buffalo, so it was a big deal to drive in for agame.”
“You already told me that, didn’t you? Sorry. My attention’s a littledivided.”
“It’s okay, totally fine,” I said, even though I was starting to question why he’d asked me to the game. It seemed as if he might enjoy it more alone. “We never had seats this close. We were usually in the bleachers. It’s cool to actually see the players’expressions.”
“This is the only way I’ll come to a game. I can’t sit farther back thanthis.”
“There’s actually a weird sense of camaraderie in the nosebleedsection. . .”
François groaned at a bad call and turned forward. I should’ve considered how long a baseball game could go on. It was my first date in a while, and this wasn’t making a case for doing it again anytime soon. Silence made me just as uncomfortable as stilted conversation. Was he not interested enough to learn more about me? What if we ran out of things to talk about at somepoint?
