Chapter 7
Sloane
It was fucking hot. Like, completely and unnecessarily hot.
I declined Rhys’s offer to sit in the air-conditioned suite with all the other girlfriends and wives. There was no way in hell I was going to subject myself to that this early in our “relationship”—no freaking way.
The endless questions, the judgment. For some of the newer girlfriends, everything was a competition. They compared houses and careers, who could have the biggest diamond when they eventually moved up to ‘wifey status.’
I would love to be able to say, “I’m not like other girls.
” That I didn’t care for any of that stuff, but truth be told, I was just like them.
And despite what I was raised to think, I loved it.
I also dreamed of big diamonds and falling in love.
I loved pink and wearing makeup. But how could I go up there and have these conversations about a man I didn’t actually have a future with?
There was no point in befriending them when everything about my relationship was a complete sham.
Though the air conditioning did sound very appealing at the moment.
I wore a pair of cut-off jean shorts with Rhys’s brand-new jersey, very neatly folded and waiting for me when I got home from work earlier. My new pair of Gucci sunglasses sat nicely on my nose, shielding me from the glaring sun.
Cami was supposed to join me at some point, but I also knew she was swamped today. So the likelihood of her arriving before the first pitch was slim. Right now, it was just me, the sun, my hot dog, and an ice-cold beer.
Rhys managed to get my favorite seats directly above the dugout. I loved being so close that I could hear the faint chatter from the guys below or the satisfying crack of the bat hitting the ball before it echoed through the park.
I got the sense that Rhys loved having me so close, solely based on the number of times he poked his head up over the dugout and shot me one of those megawatt smiles, followed by a wink before disappearing again.
Admittedly, this was the first game I’d been to in a long time. I missed the nostalgia that came with it—the smell of the dirt, beer, and fresh cut grass.
It reminded me of all those times we would save up every last penny as teenagers to get nosebleed tickets and a hot dog to share. We’d sit and watch the game while Rhys talked my ear off about going pro.
A smile tugged at my lips at the memory.
It seemed so far-fetched at the time for him to be in the big leagues, but now that I was sitting here in his jersey, watching him pitch at a home game, I knew there wasn’t any other path for him to take.
I remembered the night he was drafted like it was yesterday, pride swirling through my chest at everything he’d accomplished. He’d called his mom first, and then me. Me. The biggest night of his life so far, and I was the second person he called to share the news with.
Baseball was a staple in my relationship with him. Rhys couldn’t lose it, not because of a stupid mistake. I really needed to get it together so he had a shot at turning all this around.
So what if he held my hand? So what if he kissed my forehead? He’d done those things plenty of times over the past twenty-nine years. This wasn’t different. Maybe to the outside world, but to the two of us? Everything was still the same.
By the time the fourth inning rolled around, I’d given up on Cami showing up and slid my phone into the pocket of my shorts, putting all of my focus on the game instead of waiting for her to come.
Every once in a while, the guy sitting next to me would try to elicit some kind of conversation, going so far as to comment on how smooth my legs were when he’d “accidentally” brushed his cargo-clad thigh against mine.
But my eyes and attention stayed locked on the field.
Rhys was in the zone. Even if I wanted to take my attention off of him, I couldn’t.
I loved seeing him like that. He was having one hell of a game.
The Bandits were up by four, and so far, Rhys was throwing a no-hitter.
Every once in a while, his eyes would find mine, and he’d shoot me a wink before his focus would shift back to the game.
Like he was making sure I hadn’t taken off yet.
He didn’t know it, but I was nursing my third or fourth beer after stuffing my face with a mini baseball helmet full of nachos. I wasn’t going anywhere. Rhys was absolutely my DD tonight.
Would I love myself in the morning when I got up for work? Absolutely not… But I’d let sober Sloane deal with that in the morning.
Rhys struck out the person at bat, the crowd erupting in a loud cheer while the players all jogged off the field and filed into the dugout. I loved the rowdiness of the dugout, especially when it matched the stadium's energy.
Rhys was having a great game, and everyone could feel it.
My eyes slid up to the big screen above centerfield as the kiss cam started, laughing at the embarrassed couples who seemed to be on their first or second date, and ‘awwing’ at the elderly couples who were just so tickled to be chosen they’d almost forgotten to kiss.
Suddenly, the camera was on me. Me… and the stranger sitting next to me.
I watched my eyes bug out on the screen, and everyone laughed at the reaction. No way in hell was I kissing this man.
Choking on the sip of beer I’d just taken, I shook my head furiously and waved my hand, trying to tell them to move on, that we weren’t together. After a few seconds, the man next to me was grinning ear to ear as the crowd chanted for us to kiss.
“Might as well! Ya know… since we’re both here alone!” He laughed, angling his body towards me.
Gross. Even if I wasn’t here pretending to be Rhys’s girlfriend, kissing someone who smelled like cheap beer and cigarettes with nacho cheese on the corner of their mouth was one hundred percent out of the question.
I shook my head again. “No. My someone is on the field.” I argued, pointing my fingers towards the dug out. “I’m not single, sorry.” I let out a nervous laugh, shifting away from him.
“Oh, come on! For fun!”
I shook my head again, but the camera was still fucking on me.
Could no one take a hint?
Right as I started to stand, Rhys’s head poked over the top of the dugout. I froze, my eyes wide as his gaze narrowed in on me, then jumped over to the screen over the outfield.
Slowly, his head turned back, his eyes landing on the guy next to me, who was still trying to coax a kiss out of me. Rhys could tell I was uncomfortable, but I wasn’t entirely sure what he could do from the field.
Next thing I knew, Rhys was hoisting himself up over the dugout, walking across the top, eyes locked on me.
I gulped under the intensity of his stare, shrinking into the plastic chair and making myself as small as I could.
“Uh-oh! Looks like we have some jealousy from the dugout!” the announcer called out, his words echoing through the stadium.
Rhys hopped the short fence that separated the dugout from the stands, and suddenly, we were toe to toe. All six feet four inches towering over me, and it was definitely the alcohol making me dizzy and not the possessive nature of my best friend.
He leaned down, his hands gripping the armrests on either side of me, caging me in. “I’m gonna kiss you, Sloane,” Rhys stated, his voice low and rough.
“Right now?” I squeaked, my brain fuzzy from the beer. Definitely the beer. Not the look of determination on his face.
He smiled that lopsided grin which drove everyone crazy. “Right now.”
“Okay,” I whispered back.
Rhys was going to kiss me.
Right here, right now. In front of all these people. Not to mention all the people tuning in from home.
His large hands framed my face as my tongue swiped against my dry lips, his eyes darkening as he tracked the movement. “Right now.”
Rhys’s mouth met mine, soft and warm, and as much as I tried not to feel anything, my heart swelled in my chest. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the noise of everything around us.
He smelled like sweat and grass, but also like the body wash and cologne I was so used to, and it was…
Dammit. It was amazing. It was home and familiar, but saturated with everything new and exciting because I’d never experienced Rhys like this before.
His lips lingered on mine so sweetly, and my hands twitched to touch him, but I opted to leave them in my lap instead. Should I be touching him? Wasn’t that what couples did?
Yes… that was exactly what couples did. And… for all intents and purposes… we were a couple.
Before I could change my mind, my hands moved on their own, fingers tangling in the fabric of his jersey. He smiled against my mouth, and my heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding.
Our lips separated audibly, my mouth parting slightly as Rhys pulled away, peeling his hat off and resting his forehead against mine. “Don’t look so surprised. We do this all the time, remember?” he whispered before standing up straight.
Doing as he instructed, I put on a sheepish little smile. One that felt innocent and rivaled the chaotic rhythm in my chest, and the way my stomach fluttered with abandon.
Fake dating. Fake dating. Fake dating. Fake dating. Fake dating. He’s your best friend. It means nothing.
Rhys beamed, dropping his sweaty hat onto my head.
“Gotta let everyone know you’re my girl.” He winked before turning and making his way back to the dugout. I hoped the roar of the crowd would stifle the sound of surprise that tumbled from my lips.
Rhys just kissed me. He just kissed me.
And the fact that it felt so… natural… was almost enough to send me into a downward spiral.
I just kissed Rhys.
Fuck.