Suddenly, an arm wraps around my waist, and Aiden kisses the side of my head.
“You good, baby?” he says.
“Coach here was just telling me how much they appreciate Kemper’s.” He looks distinctly at where Aiden is touching me before he clears his throat.
“Do you think you could hit a ball or two for the kids? Not every day they meet a professional player,” the coach asks, and as Aiden turns around, a group of boys are nearly begging him with doe eyes.
“All right, just a few.”
I smile at the thought of watching him play dressed like the hot CEO that he is right now. I stay in the dugout and watch as all the kids, Aiden, and the coach take the field.
Aiden’s wearing dress shoes, but he seemingly doesn’t give a shit as he digs them into the dirt and plays with the grip of his bat. Hitting the tip of it on home plate and taking his stance. Conceptually, I know he played professionally, but when I watch him swing the bat and send the ball all the way past the fence toward the football field, my mouth drops.
The kid who is in the dugout with me whispers, “Holy shit.” And I can’t help but agree with the sentiment, just in a completely different way.
Aiden doesn’t run bases, just directs the pitcher to throw again, and he does. Aiden only strikes out twice, but the rest of his hits seem to impress the kids.
“Does Mr. Carlson’s girlfriend want to hit one?” one of the kids shouts.
“I don’t know how to,” I say loud enough for the kid in the dugout to hear.
“Your boyfriend is one of the best hitters ever and you don’t know how to hit?” the kid says judgmentally. I don’t tell the little turd that I only just started officially dating him this past weekend.
Aiden raises an eyebrow at me and holds the bat.
“Fuck, fine,” I say, climbing my way out of the dugout, glad that I wore sandals and not heels today.
“Have you ever gone to bat before?” Aiden asks, and I shake my head.
Aiden looks at the pitcher and says loud enough so most of the team can hear, “Do you have any softballs?” One of the kids nods, and the ball twice the size of a baseball comes rolling to the pitcher. “Throw underhand,” Aiden says sternly to the kid throwing the ball. As he takes my hands and shows me where I need to hold the bat. He stands behind me and shows me where my elbows need to go and even uses his leg to make my feet spread apart more. “Now, you just need to time your swing right.” Aiden must hold up a hand for the pitcher to throw, because suddenly this ball is being hurled toward my face and I don’t know how to react. I don’t swing.
A kid tosses the larger ball back to the pitcher, and he waits for Aiden’s go ahead. “I got you, I’ll tell you when to swing,” Aiden says softly in my ear. The pitcher nods and the ball is thrown again. As soon as Aiden says swing, I do. The connection to the ball rattles my hands and arms, but I connect nonetheless.
The ball bounces close on the ground, and goes straight into the hands of the pitcher.
“Good job,” Aiden says with a smile, handing the bat to one of the kids who have now lined up asking for signed baseballs. He’s patient and kind, giving the kids smiles, and words of encouragement.
I think falling for Aiden Carlson might be one of the easiest things I’ve ever done in my life.
14
CHECK PLEASE
After we leavethe summer camp practice, we head to my house first, where I park and round the car to open Jessa’s door.
“I thought we were going to dinner,” she says in a tone that indicates she would be okay skipping a meal and going straight to my place.
“It’s right down the street, it’s easier to walk there instead of finding parking.”
“What are we having?”
“Is Italian okay?”
“I love Italian,” she says, without any hesitation she puts her hand in mine as we walk down my driveway and on the sidewalk.
Affection has never come so easy to me, and I’m not sure why. I’ve had girlfriends. I feel like I’ve been in love before, but the beginning of a relationship has never felt as effortless as this. I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve been upfront about our intentions with one another or because of the anticipation and getting to know each other. All I know is that I want to make Jessa happy, and seeing her happy brings me a joy I’m still wrapping my head around.
“You were so good with the kids back there,” Jessa says as we’re walking.
