Chapter 11 #2
By the seventh inning, the score was still zero to zero, but the Cubs had runners on base, waiting to finally break the dry spell. The stadium vibrated with noise, thousands of fans on their feet, chanting and clapping in a rolling wave that set my blood on fire.
I stood with them, shouting toward the field. “Come on! Bring it home!”
Beside me, Kate sprang to her feet, nearly slamming her shoulder into mine. Her hair brushed my jaw when she turned, that damn scent invading my nostrils all over again.
“Strike him out! Send them home tonight crying!” she shouted.
I shouted over her, much louder than necessary. This was the only place where I ever got loud and I refused to dial it down for her.
She shoved me, her palm landing square against my chest. “You’re hurting my ears.”
Hinds laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made it seem like he was delighted by our bickering. The next pitch sailed in, and the crack of the bat split the air. The ball rocketed into left field and the stadium erupted as a runner rounded third.
“Yes!” I roared, pumping my fist. The runner slid home safe and everyone went wild.
Except Kate, who groaned and threw her hands up. “That was luck.”
“That was skill,” I said loudly, leaning closer so she could hear me over the crowd.
She scoffed. “It was blind luck.”
“Keep telling yourself that, but if you’ll just take a quick peek at the scoreboard, you’ll find it disagrees. Boom. In your face!”
She turned toward me, her eyes flashing and her cheeks rosy from shouting, or maybe from standing so close to me, but I refused to consider that an actual possibility. “If the Yankees were on their own turf—”
“They’d still lose,” I cut in.
She scoffed again, but she didn’t step away, her shoulder still pressed against mine as the crowd shifted around us. By the ninth inning, the Cubs clung to their one-run lead. My voice had gone rough from yelling and the adrenaline buzzing under my skin.
I barely recognized myself when games got this close, loud and unfiltered with every nerve exposed. Kate matched me shout for shout, taunting every Cubs error and cheering every Yankees highlight replay that flashed across the big screen like it might somehow change the score retroactively.
Every time she leaned forward, her arm brushed mine, but neither of us moved to stop it from happening. When the final out landed squarely in the first baseman’s glove, Wrigley detonated into celebration. I threw both arms into the air, pure triumph surging through me.
“Yes! That’s how you close it out!”
Kate groaned dramatically, dropping back into her seat. “Disgusting.”
“Glorious,” I countered, grinning before I could stop myself.
Hinds looked slowly between us, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “You two are remarkable together. If you ever agreed on anything, you’d be a perfect team.”
I winced and turned away, my chest suddenly feeling like it was closing up. Kate’s gaze darted toward me before she quickly looked away like she’d been caught thinking something she didn’t want to share with the rest of the class.
The post-game crowd surged through the exits in a noisy tide. We moved with it, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, Kate’s sleeve occasionally brushing mine as we were pushed forward. Once we were outside the stadium, Hinds slowed near a curb where a sleek black car idled.
He turned to me, extending his hand. “Thank you for tonight. I enjoyed it more than I expected to.”
I shook his hand firmly. “Anytime you want to catch a game here, let me know.”
“I’ve got a flight to catch.” He held my grip a second longer, eyes intent on mine. “I look forward to hearing what your family decides. Let me know. Keep well, Nate.”
I stiffened slightly. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch very soon.”
Kate’s head snapped toward me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before I could answer, the crowd pressed in around us, funneling Kate and me to the street and separating us from Hinds as he slid into the waiting car. The door shut and the vehicle disappeared into traffic.
Kate stepped closer to me, glaring up into my eyes and raising her voice over the noise. “Nate, what decision? I swear, if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to lose my mind.”
I hesitated to let a group of fans shove past us, their laughter echoing down the sidewalk. The moment stretched, her eyes locked on mine like she expected honesty I wasn’t prepared to give. My only option was to play dumb.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said finally. “I’ll drive you home.”
Suspicion tightened the corners of her eyes, but at least she nodded. “Yeah, okay, fine.”
She followed me to my car, one side of her lower lip tucked between her teeth and her brow furrowed.
The drive back to the St. Regis passed in unusual quiet for the two of us.
Traffic crawled through late-evening congestion, but Kate just stared out the passenger window, her fingers drumming lightly against her thigh.
It made her seem restless, like she wanted to keep asking what was going on but kept swallowing it instead.
I gripped the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles turned white as my thoughts circled the conversations I’d had with Alex and with Hinds. The more I thought about them, the more it felt like my head was being slowly but forcefully pushed underwater.
There had been no misunderstandings. My brother hadn’t been making shit up—not that it was Alex’s style to do that—and the naive hopes I’d been trying to hang onto had been just as idiotic as I’d known they would turn out to be.
When we reached our building, I pulled into the underground garage and killed the engine.
We rode the elevator up in silence, the air between us thick with everything I wasn’t saying, but I was acutely aware of her beside me, of every quiet shift of her weight and the faint warmth radiating from her arm.
Kate paused at her door as we reached our apartments, fumbling briefly with her keys before glancing at me. “Thanks for the ride.”
I nodded and then, before I could second-guess the instinct, I heard myself ask, “Are you seeing anyone?”
The question hung between us for a long moment. Kate’s eyes lifted slowly to meet mine. I watched confusion flicker across her face, not looking like it was directed at me, but rather inward, like she was sorting through truths and deciding which one to offer up.
“I am,” she said finally. “Are you?”
A dull, deep pang echoed through my chest and I swallowed, forcing myself to nod as I unlocked my own door.
“I am, too,” I said, the admission tasting like betrayal even as it left my mouth. “Good night, Kate.”
She studied me for another second, finally just giving me a small nod. “Goodnight, Nate.”
I went into my apartment and closed the door behind me, tossing my keys onto the counter and pulling the Cubs shirt off over my head. The adrenaline of the game had burned off and exhaustion settled into my bones.
After a long moment of just standing there, I dropped my shirt on the floor—which I never did—and went over to my laptop, opening it on the kitchen island.
Emma’s last message stared back at me from my inbox.
I clicked reply and glared at the blinking cursor, for the first time ever having trouble knowing what to say.
Emma, I needed to tell you something.
I stopped, deleted the sentence, and after inhaling a deep breath, I tried again.
I didn’t know how to explain this properly.
Another pause. Another deletion.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words I needed to say refusing to take shape. Across the hall, I imagined Kate moving through her routine as if this was just another night, and for a beat, I was really fucking jealous of her for it.
The cursor blinked steadily, waiting for me to come up with something, anything, that would be good enough to end a five-year-long cyber relationship. This was possibly going to be the last email I ever sent Emma, but I exhaled slowly and then closed the laptop without sending a thing.
I needed to say goodbye to her but I wanted to do it in person, which was why I had asked her to meet with me. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it through email.
Later, I decided.