“What am I, chopped liver?” Levi asks Diego.
“You’re too pretty. You probably can’t throw.” Diego flashes a dimple and sparkling dark brown eyes at my friend, and I want to pinch his cheeks.
He’s even more adorable in person than he is on television.
If he were in the music biz, I’d adopt him as my little brother and show him the ropes. But not for a few years. He’s too precious to ruin him yet.
“How old are you?” I ask him.
His cheeks flush a deeper brown. “Nineteen.”
“And you’re already in the Majors? That’s amazing. Good for you, Diego.Youstay safe too, understand? The Fireballs are gonna need you for alotof years.” I take the helmet from him.
He takes a giant step back. “Thank you, Miss Waverly.”
“Did you get that ball I signed for you?”
He bites his lip and looks down. “Yeah. That was—wow. I have to go. I can’t stand in your glow. I’ll go blind.”
“I’m a regular girl under all this makeup. Promise. Next time we’re both in the same city, I’m finding you and taking you to a party myself so you can see what a dork I am.”
He makes a noise and darts back to the dugout, heading straight for Cooper, who grins at him and rubs the young man’s dark hair, same as I’ve seen him do to many of his teammates over the years that I’ve watched the Fireballs play in the name of supporting the team my friend loves.
And then all of the guys I’ve watched play ball on television file out of the dugout and onto the field.
Am I squealing to myself?
Yes, I do believe I am.
They’rereal.
I get it. I’m a pop star. I grew up in Los Angeles. I get a front-row seat at the Grammys and even won an Oscar for a movie score once. People thinkI’mnot real, or that I should be taller, or that I wear glitter eyeshadow and eyelash extensions even when I’m sleeping.
I should not be dazzled by a team of baseball players.
Obviously they’re real people.
But this particular team has done something amazing since opening day last year, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enthralled with their skill and dedication.
“You any good?” Brooks Elliott asks Piper.
She flexes a tiny arm. “Don’t mistake smallness for weakness.”
“Never,” he replies. “I have a terrifying sister-in-law not much bigger than you. Learned my lesson already, I promise.”
“Cameras rolling!” Stu calls. “Act natural. Have fun. Levi, take the mound. You. Lopez. Go play second. Cole, on deck. Rossi, you’re on mascot management. Simmons, first base coach. We’re gonna get Waverly on base. Rock. Go show her how to hit a ball.”
“Nuh-uh.” Levi waves Cooper off. “You don’t touch my little sister.”
“Are we seriously doing this?” I ask.
Cooper spreads his arms. He’s sporting the black TEAM LEVI jersey. “Dude, I have a sister. I know how to behave around women.”
“I’ve seen what you do with your sister,” I tell him.
“What do you—” Diego cuts himself off as his eyes go wide and he looks at Cooper. “Happy Max willkillyou.”
Cooper claps him on the shoulder. “Never quit calling him Happy Max. He loves that. You playing pitcher? Show Levi how it’s done?”
