Page 3 of Glitched Play

Dad nods and turns back toward the field. The conversation is over before it begins. I love my family. I do. Sometimes it feels like everyone else got the same instruction manual and mine was missing half the pages.

Tyler got baseball.

Lauren got soccer.

Dad coached.

Mom volunteered.

Weekends were tournaments.

Practices.

Road trips.

Sports, sports and more sports.

Then there was me. The girl who spent hours on a tablet or a portable gaming device while sitting in the hot summer sun watching my siblings.

The girl who got excited over game releases and who learned to code before I could drive. Nobody ever told me it was wrong or that I shouldn’t do what I love, they just never understood why I loved it so much.

The game starts.

Tyler doubles his first time up.

The crowd erupts.

My family erupts.

And I cheer too because he's my brother and I adore him. Even if family gatherings occasionally feel like episodes of The Tyler Appreciation Show. I get it. He’s the only boy.

By the sixth inning his team is cruising toward a win, so I head to the concession stand. One thing eGaming doesn’t have is snacks. That’s the only thing in the CON column. I love the big pretzels and the nachos at stadiums.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. "You must be Tyler's sister."

Tyler and I have the same eyes and facial structure, and people often mistake us for twins. If I wasn’t a year older, even our friends would swear it.

I glance over at the tall, athletic guy, wearing his baseball uniform. He has dark hair and an easy smile.

"Maybe," I say as one eyebrow lifts. "If you're about to tell me his batting average, I already know. He doesn’t stop talking about his 368-batting average and his 512 on base percentage."

“Chase.” He laughs and the sound is warm and genuine as he extends his hand.

"Maci."

His grin widens. "See? We already know more about each other than most people on dating apps."

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. "That's not exactly a high bar."

"I work with what I've got."

Okay, he's funny.

I find myself smiling at the concession stand. It’s almost a relief to actually laugh. I buy a pretzel and Chase helps me open several packets of mustard to dip it in. The concession worker hands him four waters and he says, “Come stand by the dugout. I’m done pitching so…”

“Okay, sure.”

The rest of the game passes surprisingly fast. Mostly because Chase provides running commentary and I end up watching the final three innings from there.