8. LION
Chapter eight
LION
It’s Levi’s turn to buy smoothies after he dropped the last deadlift too soon.
“Hey, that looks like Tim?” I say, spotting his messy bun of blond hair walking toward Joe’s. “Hey, Tim,” I call, and he spins toward me, a wide grin spreading across his face when he spots it’s me.
“Hey, Lion. Looks like our cravings hit at about the same time now.”
“Levi lost on deadlifts, so he’s buying,” I say, reaching the table and pulling out a chair to sit. “Did you want to join us?”
“Ahh, I probably shouldn’t.”
Beau slaps a hand on his shoulder.
“Sure you should. Like Lion said, Levi’s buying, what will you have?”
“Umm, okay, well, a Berry Blast would be great, thanks.” Beau pulls out the chair opposite me, and Tim sits.
“Same for me, please,” I say.
“I’ll have a Strawberry Sunset,” Beau tells Levi, and he heads inside to get our order.
“Do you work out every day?” Tim asks, looking from Beau to me and back. “I mean, of course you do, you don’t get guns like those by skipping a day. But do you always work out together?”
“Most days,” Beau answers. “Unless this one is off doing his groupie thing.”
Tim frowns. “Groupie?”
“You know, like when teenagers follow bands around the country, except with Lion here, he follows Banana Ball. Wait, you’re in the Banana Ball league, right?”
“Tim is the best right fielder they have in the league. He’s got seventeen different trick plays and even hit off one of the OG pitchers in the Jacksonville game,” I say, and the way Tim’s face lights up hearing how awesome he is spurs me on. I want him to always look this happy. He should always be this happy. He’s amazing. “Oh, and he’s played the most games as a right fielder the last two years in a row. They know he’s the best, so of course they keep him on. No need to sub out someone else when the star player is already on the field.”
“So, you’re fairly good, then?” Beau asks with a smirk on his lips. I elbow him in the side.
“You know he’s great. You watch the games, too.”
Tim turns his way. “I take it you’re a fan as well?”
“Of sport, yep, but I don’t limit myself to just one. I follow all sports. I used to play rugby but fucked up my knee. Now, I’m a personal trainer.”
“That’s cool. Not about the knee, just that you have something else you enjoy doing.”
“Gotta have a Plan B, that’s what my mom always said.”
Levi returns with our drinks, and Tim stands. “I better get going, training and all that. This was nice, we should do it again some time.”
“We’re here every Tuesday about this time,” I reply, and Beau shoves me with his elbow. “What? We are.”
Beau clears his throat. “Weren’t you telling us about this great bodega you found? We should all go tomorrow night. Tim, you in?” Beau asks.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with the guys. I think a few of them were making plans before we head out to the next city on tour. But maybe. I’ll message you, if that’s cool?” he says, looking at me.
“You don’t have my number.”
“I’ll message Kittyball100.”
“Oh, okay. Cool.”
“Cool.”
Tim leaves, and Levi is just sitting there staring at me. Tim never goes into the direct messages of people online, he was really clear about that on his page. He only ever comments on public posts and replies to people’s questions there on the open forum, private direct messaging has never been his thing. My foot starts to drum against the floor as I replay his words. He really said he’d send Kittyball100 a message, didn’t he? There’s a lightness in my chest, and my mouth is suddenly so dry.
“You alright there, Lion?” Levi asks.
I take a sip of my drink, letting the cool liquid coat my throat.
“I’m okay. Great actually. I just can’t believe he said he’ll message me.”
“Believe it.”
***
I checked my phone the second I got up this morning to see if Tim had sent me a message. He hadn’t, and King meows for his breakfast in the other room, so I get dressed and get the boys sorted before heading to the cafe. Surely working will keep me distracted until he messages me.
But it doesn’t. I spend the day checking my phone, and Mary Beth swats my hand away for the billionth time when I go to grab it again from under the counter.
“Don’t make me take that to the back room. You know how I feel about phones at work.”
“I know, but it’s almost four and he hasn’t messaged yet, and if he’s going to come to the bodega, he’ll have to message by six.”
“Wouldn’t he still be practicing right now?”
I check the time again. Yep, one minute past the last time I looked. “Yes, he’ll be practicing.”
“Then leave it. He’ll message when he messages. Come on, afternoon rush is about to start, and I need you to box up the slices left in the display.”
“On it,” I say, collecting the cute triangle single slice boxes from under the counter, one shelf below where my phone sits, taunting me to check my socials for a message from Tim.
I get all the slices boxed, all the cookies divided up into bags of three and have the plates and trays washed down before I hear my phone chime.
“See, that wasn’t such a long wait, was it?” Mary Beth says, and I shake my head.
“It’s a text message. Tim is messaging my socials.”
I grab the phone anyway and find it’s a message from Beau.
BEAU: Sorry, I have to cancel. Have fun with the Funky Monkey.
A split second later, a message comes in from Levi.
LEVI: Sorry, I have to bail, see you in the AM.
“Both Levi and Beau had to cancel. There’s still no message from Tim. I’ll just grab takeaway from the bodega. Unless you want to join?”
“Sorry, I have a date.”
“You do?”
“Yep, with Dakota.”
“The flower guy?”
“Yes, the flower guy. Are you sure Tim hasn’t messaged?”
“I think I would know if he messaged,” I say, turning my app to face her. “Look, nothing.”
“Umm, Lion, that’s not your profile. Did you log out?”
“Huh?” I turn the phone over. Oh crap. I left myself logged in to one of the other accounts I set up to help support Tim. I quickly click the sign-out button and log in as Kittyball100. Immediately, a little two appears in the top right.
TIM: Hey, training was full-on today. But I finally landed another trick play. If I get a nice overhead ball in the next game, I’m going to try it.
No plans with the guys. Going to shower, then I’ll be free. Just shoot me the address of the bodega and I can meet you guys there.
I quickly reply.
LION: Sorry, I was working. Bodega isn’t far, did you want to meet me here? I still have to help Mary Beth close up.
The three dots appear instantly.
TIM: Sounds good, see you soon.
***
“So you landed a new trick play?” I ask as we walk toward the bodega. His face lights up as he goes on to explain it.
“I spin a full three-sixty, catch the ball on the way around, then dip forward in another spin before sending the ball right down to either the pitcher or one of the basemen depending on who needs the ball.”
“Sounds amazing. I hope you get to do it over the weekend. The OG’s play first this round, right?”
“Yep, I’m only playing in Sunday’s game. Animal Control play an OG team on night two.”
“I’ll be at all three. I booked a BnB not far from the stadium and Mouse is cat sitting.”
“Is that such a good idea?”
“Is what a good idea?”
“For your cats to be looked after by a mouse?”
“Mouse is great with cats. She had a cat of her own when we were little. It ran away. At least that’s what Mom told us.”
Tim nudges my side a little and smirks up at me. He’s at least a head shorter than I am, and I’m pretty sure if I hugged him, his head would rest right over my heart. But I won’t hug him to make sure.
“I’m starving. Are the guys meeting us there?”
“Oh, they canceled.”
“Oh.”
“They do that sometimes.”
“Umm, okay. Is the bodega far away?”
“Nope. I actually thought you weren’t coming, too. I was going to just get takeaway and head home. But we can eat there if you want.”
“Sure, or we could walk and eat.”
“I can do that.”
We round the corner onto Alebermain Street, and Tim laughs.
“The bodega is Bronson’s?”
“Yeah, have you eaten here? They have the best relish.”
“I’ve been once or twice, yeah. It’s great.”
Bronson’s is the best bodega in Savannah, and it’s set up underneath an old apartment building. The line tonight isn’t too long, and we order and are back outside in a few minutes, unwrapping the end of the bagel burger I ordered. It’s so good. Why anyone would want any other kind of bread for their burger is beyond me. The toasted bagel is perfect, and the little hole almost totally closes up when it’s been squashed in the toaster thing. Perfect.
“Tim?” someone says, and we turn to find Duckie and Ian coming out of the apartment building next door.
“Hey, guys. What are you up to?” Tim asks, and I bite into my burger, my taste buds exploding with the sweet relish and tangy pickles.
“Grabbing dinner. How about you?”
“Same. Oh, this is Lion. Lion, this is Ian and you sort of met Duckie already at Riverside Barbeque.”
“Hi, I’m Lion,” I mumble through chews before forcing the bite down. “I was stoked you got signed onto the team, sucks that Nate got injured, but hey, he probably had a Plan B. You all have those, right?” I ask.
“Not all of us,” Ian laughs, leaning into Duckie’s side. “This one, though, he can always go back to writing.”
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll move on to commentating,” Duckie says, holding up his phone to his mouth. “It’s anyone’s game as Tim steps up to bat. Will he hit it out of the park or is this the end for the Banana Ball’s golden Aussie?”
“That was great, but we all know Tim would hit it out of the park. He hit off that OG you were struck out by, remember?” I ask, and Tim laughs.
“Well, guys, we better get going. See you at training tomorrow,” Tim says.
“Yeah, nice to see you guys,” I say, and Tim and I walk away.
Tim and I head toward his place in silence as we eat. Well, mostly silence. Tim does make these soft moaning noises when he eats that has my stomach in a spin.
“It sounds like you’re enjoying that,” I say, and he pops the last bite into his mouth and mumbles through chews. “Mmm, so good. You picked a great place to grab food.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Sorry, was I making noises? I do that sometimes when I eat.”
I shrug. “Maybe a little, but it’s okay. I make noises when I have something good in my mouth sometimes, too.”
He flashes me a grin and turns to look toward the street ahead.
“I’m sure you do. Maybe I’ll get to hear them sometime.”
“We can grab dessert from that gelato place on Fifth. I swear I always make noises when I eat there.”
“Absolutely.”
“Is it hard being away from Australia?” I ask. It’s one of the few things I really don’t know about him. He’s shared a bunch about his life back in Aus and his family. His parents travel now, so he doesn’t go back there in break or anything, but it would have to be hard leaving your home. I moved an hour away from my parents and that was hard enough.
“Sometimes. I mostly miss the beaches. Other than that, I guess Savannah isn’t that different. The people here are pretty chill just like back home. They wear shoes more here, though,” he laughs.
“Well, I’m glad you moved here. Banana Ball wouldn’t be the same without you,” I say as we turn the corner onto his street. How are we almost there already? I feel like we only just left the bodega.
“You really think I can hit a home run?” he asks, and he pauses on the sidewalk to look up at me, the streetlights illuminating the light freckles on his face and his stunning blue eyes. I stop and turn to look right into those eyes.
“Of course. You can do anything.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so,” I say, and we start walking again, slower this time, like he also doesn’t want this walk to end. I know for sure that I don’t. “You almost had a home run last year if it wasn’t for that trick play the OG’s had with that people pyramid jump thing. That shouldn’t be allowed.”
“It was pretty awesome to see, though.”
“Your trick plays are better.”
Tim’s whole face lights up, and I know I have to make sure he’s always this happy. Maybe that’s why we met. Maybe I am the person who is supposed to make him happy. I can do that, right?