Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“You don’t seem excited about it.”
“Who am I going to curse out if I don’t like the call? Kicking dust on the feet of a robot doesn’t seem like it would have the same cathartic effect.” I shove half the dog into my mouth while GG takes a small bite. She seems to like it and takes another one. Is this the first time she’s had a hot dog too? Nah, that can’t be.
“The robot would just wheel itself away.”
“Exactly. Total downer.”
“You really love the game.”
It isn’t a question but more of an observation, but I still nod. “More than anything.”
There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, but I can’t read what it is. “What do you think?”
“The baseball field is pretty. And green. I don’t know anything about the game though. You have pitchers and batters and the square things over there.” She points to the bases.
Square things? It’s as if she’s been locked up all her life, shut away from any contact with the outside world. “Those are bases. The batter has to hit the ball and then touch each base to score a run. The team with the most runs wins.”
“How many tries do you get to hit the ball? Ten? Fifteen?”
“Depends on if you make contact. There’s a thing called foul balls. See the white lines?”
She follows my arm and nods. “Any ball hit inside the white line is fair and outside the line is foul. If you hit the ball and it’s foul, it’s a strike, but you aren’t out, so technically, you could hit the ball fifteen times and still be at-bat.”
“Has that ever happened?” She finishes her hot dog, and I hand her the soda to wash it down.
“As far as I know, Brandon Belt set the record for sixteen foul balls in 1988. Cal would know for sure. The pitcher was Bartolo Colon, a right-hander, from the Dominican Republic. They called him the Big Sexy. He pitched to Belt 20 times and on the 21st, Belt sent a line drive into right field.” I shake my head. “Poor Colon. He lost that duel.”
“You know a lot of stats, too.” She sets the cup down between us and places her hands on her knee. She leans forward, eyes glued to the field. As the game wears on, she peppers me with questions that I answer as best I can. Somewhere in the bottom of the fifth, she excitedly grabs my hand and then forgets that she’s holding it. A warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the sun. With the sound of the ball striking the leather, the crack of the bat, the cheers of the crowd, and her fingers threaded through mine, my dreams start re-organizing. Maybe I can have it all. Maybe if I work really hard, I can have my pro career, take care of my family, and come home to GG. Maybe.
Chapter Sixteen
Georgia
My face hurts from smiling so much. This is by far the most fun I’ve ever had, and I have Colt to thank for it. I can tell how much he loves the game, and I have to admit that I’m quickly becoming a fan. He’s in his element and it makes me happy to know he wanted to share it with me. It makes me want to have something in my life I’m so passionate about.
When the seventh inning stretch, as Colt called it, rolls around, we get up from our seats and do exactly that. It’s a little difficult to really get into it since Colt doesn’t let go of my hand. I try to tug it free, wanting to fully experience this stretching thing, but instead of letting go, he pulls me into him.
His fingers reach out to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear before he leans down. I close my eyes, anticipating his kiss. His lips meet mine in a gentle kiss that causes goosebumps to break out all over my skin. I may not know what I’m doing, but whatever this is feels right.
“Ladies and gentlemen please direct your attention to the Jumbotron and join us in singing a rendition of ‘Take Me Out to The Ballgame.’” The announcers' words bring us back to reality. Colt lifts his mouth from mine, giving me one last soft kiss before we turn around to face the big screen. Both of us are smiling as we sing out of tune about peanuts and Crackerjacks and rooting for the home team.
“That was awesome,” I say as we head back toward the car. I really don’t want this to be over.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. We can come again some time.”
“Really?” He stops when he gets to his car.
“Yeah, really.” He puts his hand on my cheek. I lean into his touch. Not long ago, I would have avoided a man of Colt’s size like the plague. Yet, for some reason all I want is to be near him even when he’s being a jerk.