chapter 93
Chase,
I can’t avoid the stadium; I will be at the games with Tobey. I need you to stay away from me. Please.
Ty
The skybox was too hot. I pulled at the front of my shirt and fanned myself with the program. The waitress came by, and I caught her eye.
“Another beer?” she asked.
“Yes. In the bottle, please.” I stood and walked to the window, placing my forehead on the glass, cold from the outside air, resisting the urge to yank open my shirt and press my skin against the cool glass.
Down on the field, Chase stood, his glove resting against one thigh, his cap low, eyes on the batter, jersey stretched tight over his shoulders.
I’d watched him the entire game—every play, every catch, every at-bat. And he hadn’t looked up here. Not once.
I should have been happy. All my fears about him pushing the envelope, revealing our relationship with some big obvious gesture, unfounded.
I should have been happy, but I wasn’t. Instead, I only wanted him more.