When Dylan came up for his second at-bat later in the game, I leaned forward again, fingers curling around the edge of my seat. He worked the count, fouling off a pitch before finally getting something he liked.
The crack of the bat sounded different this time.
The ball soared high and deep into right field, and the instant it cleared the wall, the fans erupted in cheers.
I jumped to my feet, shouting with everyone else as Dylan rounded the bases, his grin visible even from the stands. When he crossed home plate, he looked my way and winked.
By the time the eighth inning ended, the Seawolves were clinging to a one-run lead.
In the top of the ninth, the leadoff batter reached base, and the mood in the stadium shifted in an instant from excited to anxious.
The next hitter sent the ball toward center field. Dylan took off, and my heart pounded as he sprinted forward and dove, arm outstretched. He caught it.
The breath I’d been holding rushed out of me as the crowd roared, and Dylan got to his feet, throwing the ball back to the infield.
One out.
The next batter hit a line drive that looked like it was headed for the outfield.
At the last second, Jase jumped up to make the catch, then fired the ball to Singleton who stepped on first to get the runner who’d already taken off, not expecting the ball to be caught.
Double play.
Game over.
The team rushed toward the infield to celebrate their win, but my eyes stayed locked on Jase and Dylan as they found eachother. I expected the usual high-fives teammates handed out after a win, so I was completely taken aback when Jase grabbed the front of Dylan’s jersey and kissed him hard.
The stadium roared, and cameras flashed, but that kiss wasn’t for the fans or the media.
It was for the three of us, standing in the open, ready for whatever came next.
The noisefrom the crowd softened into echoes as I followed my agents along the level beneath the stadium. I stood with the other family and friends near the spot where players filtered from the tunnel into the clubhouse. I assumed the guys were already in the locker room, since it had taken me a bit of time to navigate the crowds.
Equipment staff rolled carts toward the locker room, while other staff buzzed around doing whatever they were responsible for.
With Secret Service agents on either side of me, I drew some attention, but no one approached or said anything to me. A few feet away, mounted on the wall, one of the stadium screens flickered from highlight replays to a live feed.
Jase and Dylan stood by their lockers, still in their jerseys, surrounded by the media.
A reporter jumped in right away. “Jase, Dylan, can you explain what we saw on the field after the final out?”
Jase glanced sideways at Dylan, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You mean the part where I kissed my boyfriend?”
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd of reporters.
Dylan didn’t miss a beat. “And his boyfriend kissed him back.”
Another wave of murmurs followed, this time louder.
“So you two are together?” someone called out.
Jase shrugged. “Uh … that’s usually what it means when you call someone your boyfriend.”
Dylan shook his head and chuckled at Jase’s comment. “Yes, it’s true.”
“What about the president’s daughter? Rumor had it that Jase was dating Faye Donnelley, but we saw her kiss both of you before the game,” another voice pressed.
My breath caught even though I knew it was coming.
