prove that I wasn’t a troll, and using Parker’s sworn enemy to do it was probably infantile, but I couldn’t help the satisfaction that came from that phone call.
Yes, I was officially fifteen years old again.
“Sorry about that,” I said to Ryker, sliding my phone back into my pocket.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Parker’s a dick.” No argument from me on that one, not today. “You want to use me to get to him, I’ve got no problem with that.”
That made my cheeks heat with embarrassment, but Ryker didn’t seem upset, so I gave an internal shrug and let it go.
“So tell me, how’d you get into baseball?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow, twisting in my seat to look at him. “What? A girl can’t be a baseball fan?”
He grinned. “That’s not what I said. I’m asking how you got into baseball.”
“My dad,” I said, settling back to stretch my legs out again. “He loves the Sox and I grew up watching them on TV. I can’t remember not watching baseball with him. What about you?”
“I used to play.”
“Really?” It seemed incongruous, given what he’d told me about his childhood.
He laughed a bit, leaning back and bracing his elbows on the arms of his seat. “Don’t look so surprised,” he said. “My mom insisted I get involved in some kind of sport. Thought it’d help keep me out of trouble. So I picked baseball.”
“What position did you play?”
He flashed a shit-eating grin. “Third base.”
I laughed out loud. I should’ve known. It was so appropriate for Ryker.
“I take it you didn’t play a sport in high school?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No sports, no.”
“Then what? No wait, don’t tell me…the debate team.”
I laughed again, swatting him playfully on the arm. “Please. I wasn’t smart enough to be on the debate team.” Ryker caught my hand in his and threaded our fingers together, which distracted me enough to tell him the truth. “I was a cheerleader.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “No way,” he said through his chuckles. “You? Not possible.”
“Do I have to get up and do my ‘Ready? Okay!’ for you?” I asked with mock outrage. “And don’t make me do the splits, because I’m telling you, I’ve still got it.”
“I’ll need proof of that,” he teased, squeezing my hand.
Our eyes met behind our sunglasses and time seemed to slow in one of those moments destined to imprint on my memory. In the warm spring air, with the sunshine heating my skin, the smell of hot dogs and popcorn in the air, and the crack of the baseball, it was the most perfect moment I’d had in a really long time.
A shout broke the moment and we both looked up to see a baseball hurtling toward us. I cringed, hoping it wouldn’t hit me. But Ryker’s hand flashed up and the ball smacked into his palm.
A beat passed, and then we were both on our feet, cheering and laughing as he held the baseball aloft in triumph for the sparse crowd out here in the way-way outfield. Catch a homer at a White Sox game? Check.
“Damn, that hurt like a sonofabitch,” he said with a laugh, shaking his hand out.
“You’re not supposed to say that,” I teased. “It’s unmanly.”
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me into him. “Oh, it is, is it?” he asked, his lips twisting in a mischievous grin. “So does that mean I don’t get a kiss for saving you from injury-by-baseball?”
“I didn’t know you wanted one,” I said loftily, playing hard to get. “I didn’t want to just assume—”
He cut me off with a kiss, his lips warm and soft against mine. I melted against him like cotton candy left too long in the sun. Ryker needed no more encouragement to deepen the kiss, which made the bill of his cap knock me in the forehead.
“Pretend that didn’t happen,” he murmured against my lips as he twisted the cap around. “I’m usually much smoother.”
I smiled. “Yeah, your image is totally ruined now.”
“I’m going to have to fix that,” he rasped. Then he deepened the kiss and I forgot all about his hat.
After the game, Ryker took me home on his bike. I decided I could get used to this. His body was hard against mine as I held on. Illinois had no helmet laws and since we were relatively close to my apartment, we both forwent wearing one, which allowed me to lean my head against Ryker’s back. His Sox T-shirt was