There are more reporters and paparazzi than we’ve had before. The Deer Drop stands are heckling Dylan louder with every inning, with the Tickled Pink stands defending him louder and louder with every inning.
Not only is my heart in my throat over what I need to do for my cover story for the next three days, but it’s also shedding tears at what he’s had to go through tonight.
And it’s my fault for suggesting he represent Tickled Pink on social media.
He should’ve told me no, but he’d rather face all of this and do good for his town than spare himself the reminders that there are people who don’t like him.
Every time I think he can’t possibly get sexier or more attractive, he’s justhimin the face of conflict, and yep.
Completely and totally in love with the man.
And I’m leaving.
I glance his way as we stand on the field waiting for the next batter.
“You are ten times the person any of them could ever be,” I whisper with just enough volume to hopefully let him hear me and no one else. I might not get a chance to tell him again, so I need to do it now.
He scratches the back of his neck and glances away. “Haven’t talked to a lot of these people since high school. It’s fine.”
Lola claps at second base. “High school! Oh, you must’ve been a cutie patootie in high school!”
“Ban the dick!”someone shouts from the Deer Drop stands.
“Shutup, Aiden,” Hannah snaps back. “Youset off a stink bomb in the cafeteria, and just last week you drove away from the dealership without paying for your oil change.”
“Whatever,intruder,” Aiden replies.
“In-tru-der, in-tru-der,”they chant.
“Be nice to my wife,” the butthole who hit on me at the post office snarls at the crowd from his dugout.
“We were talking about those rich people,” someone else calls.
“At least we have manners,” Dylan’s mom says from the Tickled Pink stands.
Okay, she yells it.
She’s totally yelling it, and it’s like watching one of my own family reunions.
“Wow, this is like what half the Upper East Side families do at their own galas,” Lola says. “I feel, like, right at home.”
She’s not wrong.
“Batter’s up.” Dylan claps his hands. “Eyes on the ball, Gold Stars.”
“My eye isalwayson the balls, Dylan,” Lola calls.
“The snowshoe baseball ball, Lola,” Carter yells from the outfield. “NotDylan’sballs.”
“I disapprove of how these heathens were raised,” I hear Gigi telling someone from the refreshments tables.
Ridhi and Anya have sold out of all their treats.
Gigi and Niles are about halfway through their overpriced, repackaged Little Debbie snacks.
Deer Drop’s slugger steps up to the plate.
Teague looks back at me. “Three steps back and four closer to second base.”
