The best part of that day date?
It one hundred percent ended in a kiss, noalmostabout it.
My gaze skips to the screen as Trevor’s walk-up song blares through the surround sound speakers. I can’t help the way my breath hitches as the camera zooms on his face. My heartrate ticks up and not just from the anxious anticipation of whether this at-bat will end with one of Trevor’s famed home runs.
“You really like him,” Mallory says, tone warm.
“Hmm?”
That’s all the response I can muster since I’m currently mesmerized by Trevor’s tense thighs as he sets his stance. No wonder he can always pick me up and tote me around. Those things are tree trunks. Also, who designed baseball pants? I want to send them a handwritten thank-you note—with stickers.
Mallory lets out a soft laugh, but I can’t pull my eyes from the screen. We both cheer when Trevor hits a solid double off a curveball. Then Kai is up to bat and brings Trevor home with a home run. I hold Banks steady as my new friend and I jump-squeal with excitement.
“You need to come to the home game on Friday so we can do this in person.”
All my elation is efficiently squashed. I’ve thought about joining Mallory in the stands again, but the Waves stadium is still the scene of my life’s biggest embarrassment. I’m not sure I’m ready to return to the place where I was so publicly humiliated.
“Maybe it’s too soon,” I hedge. “We’ve only been dating afew weeks.”
Mallory levels me with a look likeCome on.
“I know we agreed to never speak his name again,” Mallory says, her voice softening, “but Aaron was a walking red flag. I’m sorry you didn’t know that when you started dating him. Sometimes guys are really good at hiding that about themselves. But”—Mallory sets her hands on my shoulders, ducking down because she’s wearing sneaker heels with her custom Waves logo-patterned minidress, even though it’s just the two of us in my living room—“here’s the important part: these men couldn’t be any more different. Trevor is sweet and thoughtful, and he’ll be deliriously happy that you came to his game. It won’t be like last time. I promise.”
I take a deep breath as her words wash over me. Mallory is right, but knowing this doesn’t dissipate the anxiety spiraling through my veins.
Do it anyway, my mind supplies.Do it scared.
“Okay,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. “I’ll come with you on Friday. Just don’t tell anyone. I want Trevor to be surprised.”
Her mouth slips into a scheming smile. “I love that idea.”
I refresh both of our drinks before returning to the couch. The more I think about it, the more a sense of rightness settles deep in my chest. After all he’s gone through with his family, Trevor deserves to have someone who cares about him in the stands. A bloom of joy ribbons through my ribs that, in two short days, that person will be me.
In the meantime, I’m excited for whatever mystery plans Trevor has for us tomorrow. He’d texted before the game started, asking if I was free. I chuckled to myself at the sweet request. As if I wouldn’t clear my schedule on the one day he’s off after being gone for nine days straight.
Mallory and I chat and gossip throughout the rest of the game. After she leaves, I barely stifle my buzzing anticipation at seeing Trevor tomorrow morning. I’m pretty sure you can’t have withdrawal from kissing, but tell that to the twitchy sensation sweeping my arms and legs. One thing is for sure—tomorrow is going to be averygoodday.
Chapter 21
Trevor
Today is a complete disaster. I scoot the stiff hospital chair closer to Kenzie’s stretcher in the ER as her blood pressure cuff deflates. I might have been that obnoxious rich guy earlier, telling the medical staff that I’d donate a hospital wing if Kenzie got priority care. Turns out, a triage nurse took one look at her overly swollen lips and pulled Kenzie back immediately, muttering something about airway issues.
Kenzie’s unexpected allergic reaction made her face puffier than a spooked blowfish, but it wasn’t until we were in the ER room that things really went off the rails. Kenzie scaled my back like she was going for a piggyback ride, insisting we leave, because the medical staff wanted to insert an IV to give her antihistamines.
Apparently, Kenzie is deathly afraid of needles.
I was worried that I’d have to physically restrain her or something equally terrible, but after we saw the doctor, our nurse came back with a nasal syringe filled with something to “calm her nerves.” Shortly thereafter, she was able to start an IV and give Kenzie three medicines to reduce the swelling.
All because I took Kenzie to the restaurant at the golf course before our afternoon tee time, and the chef decided to put pureed walnuts in the soup without updating the printed menu. I’d even scanned the menu for her food allergies—bananas, pineapples, and walnuts—prior to ordering.
My hand grips the bed rail separating us, nearly crushing it to dust. I should sue that restaurant for endangering Kenzie’s health—or at the very least publicly shame them for such a careless mistake. What if I hadn’t reacted as quickly as I did? Our entrees hadn’t even arrived before I yanked Kenzie from the table and broke a myriad of traffic laws to get her to the hospital. What if her reaction had been more severe? A thick lump settles at the base of my throat.
“You know what’s nice,” Kenzie says, patting my knuckles with a sing-songy tone. “These.”
The nurse warned me that the nasal medicine Kenzie received has the side effect of making people feel a little loopy. So far, Kenzie has complimented the outfits of every staff member, even though they’re all wearing matching scrubs, petted thewarm blanket she received, mistaking it for Banks, and asked if the heart monitor played any other songs.
Kenzie pries my fingers from the railing, turning my hand over in hers. “I like these.”
