“And coordinated for a fewtastefulsmoke cannons. Waves blue,of course.”
“Of course.” I laugh, shaking my head.
When I realized I loved Trevor after talking to my parents in the Waves clubhouse, I thought about telling him that night. Then I thought about telling him over pancakes the next morning, but it hadn’t felt right. I wanted Trevor to know I loved himout loud.
Trevor deserves a big, flashy proclamation. He deserves love and support that everyone can see after having no one show up for him for years. So I wroteI love youon the back of my sign. Tonight, I plan on whistling to get his attention before showing him both sides of my sign.
Mallory just made it easier to catch his eye.
“Are you mad?”
“No.” I shake my head again. “I’m nervous now that so many eyes will be on me, but I’ll just focus on Trevor.”
“Yes.” She gives my arm a supportive squeeze. “Focus on him. But don’t forget that even though you tell yourself you’re shy and quiet, you were obviously a diva in a past life.”
We stand for the national anthem, and I drop my sign to the side to place a hand over my heart. It’s pounding frantically against the fabric of Trevor’s jersey.
Cheering erupts at the final note before the announcer booms, “Play ball!”
As the rest of the stadium sits down, I push toward the half-wall as the Waves take the field. Two fingers slip into my mouth to whistle, but Trevor is already looking my way as hejogs out. The smile on his face is the largest I’ve ever seen. Quickly, I lift my sign so the Chapman side is out. Trevor stops with a laugh, placing a hand over his heart.
Then I flip the sign, and his face…falls.
Sudden terror surges through my bloodstream. I’m vaguely aware of the announcer in the background.
“...Kenzie Rogers, Trevor Chapman’s girlfriend…”
What if Trevor doesn’t feel the same way? What if I just mortified him in front of fifty thousand fans with even more watching from home?
Too much of this feels like a sick replaying of last time, a twisted déjà vu. I’ve made a fool of myself a second time. Heat flushes over my skin as tears prick at the edges of my vision. My sign drops to the ground as I will myself not to sprint up the stairs. Every single cell in my body twitches in anticipation of Trevor’s response.
When Trevor drops his catcher’s mitt and mask and sprints toward me, a relieved laugh bursts from my tight chest. I can’t keep the tears from slipping free as I smile at him. Trevor doesn’t slow when he reaches the wall, just places one hand on it and clears it easily, even with his leg guards on.
“You love me?” His hands frame my face, his gaze guarded as it bounces between my eyes.
“Yes. I hope that’s okay. I thought that maybe—”
I don’t get to finish my ramble because Trevor crushes his lips to mine.
Later, when I watch the footage from the comfort of our couch with Banks and Jet sitting on our laps, I’ll see that the colored smoke cannons fired at the exact second our lips touched. I’ll see our faces on the jumbotron, our kiss more heart-wrenching than a blockbuster movie. I’ll hear the absolute ruckus the audience made, so immensely happy for us.
But now, in this moment, all I can hear is Trevor whispering against my lips, “I love you, Kenzie. I’ve loved you for so long. I can’t believe…”
There’s a broken quality to his words that makes a sob hiccup in my chest.
“Believe it.” I lean back so he can see the sincerity in my gaze. “I’m going to show you how much you mean to me every chance I get.”
Trevor rocks our foreheads together with a relieved exhale before kissing me again, deeper this time. People jump to their feet as the stadium explodes in cheers. The noise is almost tangible, pressing in from all sides.
A few seconds later, a Waves staff member urges Trevor to return to the field. Reluctantly, he sets a kiss on my lips, puts one leg over the wall, and then lurches back for another kiss. I burst into laughter as our lips part. It feels like the whole ballpark chuckles along with me.
“I’m going to play so well tonight,” Trevor tells me walking backward as the staff member encourages him along. “You haveno idea!” he yells over the growing distance, never taking his eyes off me. “I love you!”
“I love you too!” I shout, both hands cupping my mouth.
Trevor’s smile is luminescent as he tucks it behind his catcher’s mask. The umpire and opposing batter both give him back pats before he collects himself enough to get into position.
Then, Trevor Chapman—theloveof my life—plays the best game of his fifteen-year career.
