Get your ass to Wrigley.
Dad scored tickets to the game.
Levi and I are waiting for you.
I blink at my phone in surprise. The Cubs have a home playoffs game today, but Naomi never said anything about wanting to go.
My thumb hovers over my phone as I debate what to say. My classes are done for the week, but I have homework. I could go, but what if someone recognizes me?
Stop thinking of excuses and just come.
Don’t be sad and alone when you can be sad with me, a hot dog, and hot guys in tight pants!
I can’t help but smile, and even though the air smells like rain that reminds me of London, I agree to meet up with her at the game.
I quickly swing by my dorm to drop off my bag, and then I run to catch the Purple Line from Evanston to Wrigley Field. The platform is so crowded with baseball fans in white and bluethat I miss the first train and am forced to wait for the next one. I shoot a text to Naomi.
Ugh. Missed the purple line
She responds instantly.NOT THE PURPLE!!!
The second train is wall-to-wall with bodies. I squeeze toward the end of the car, put my headphones on, and zone out until my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Naomi, checking on my location. I’m typing my response when the train slows to a halt.
I pop out my headphones in time to hear most of the announcement. “Unexpected delay… obstruction on the track… please be patient… we’ll be moving again as quickly as possible.”
Train delay. Might be late,I tell Naomi.
Don’t be!
The air in the crowded car is sticky and humid, and every minute feels like a hundred. I’m questioning how much I even like baseball by the time the train starts moving again. The energy among the Cubs fans amps up, and they make room in this overcrowded sweat lodge to accommodate a trio of bucket drummers that block me from getting off when I try to make my transfer.
I have to get off at the next stop, and I just squeeze through, narrowly avoiding being smashed. I check the time and see four new texts from Naomi. I glance at the arrivals board and debate waiting for the next train or running the last half mile to the stadium.
A fat raindrop falls on my phone screen. I glance miserablyat the sky and decide to cut my losses. Fate clearly does not want me at this game.
It’s about to rain and I’m exhausted. Have fun without me!
Her response is lightning fast.Just come!
The rain falls harder, soaking through my shoes.I’m heading back to campus. Sorry. Rain check!
Naomi’s next text arrives as I hit send.Don’t make me ruin the surprise, Wheeler.
The train pulls in. I pause half in and half out of the train, my heart in my throat.
Wheeler?There’s only one person on earth who calls me that.
I’m slightly dazed as I take a seat on the vacant train car. My phone buzzes again, but it’s not Naomi. It’s from a ten-digit number, the kind that belong to people who live in the UK.
Keep an eye on him for us, okay?
P.S. You owe me a dress.
All at once I understand what’s happening, even if I don’t understand how. My heart is in my throat as the train leaves the station. I’m the first one out the door at the next stop, and I sprint toward Wrigley Field in the pouring rain, where I run into Naomi and Levi outside the stadium.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking alarmed.
“Where is he?” I grip her arms as I double over to catch my breath.
