19. Feral Caveman Mode
NINETEEN
FERAL CAVEMAN MODE
ISABELLA
“You’re sulking,” Jordan points out as she falls beside me on the couch. “Why are you sulking?”
“I’m not sulking,” I grumble. And I’m a big fat liar for it. I’ve been in a mood to say the least. All day. I know why, but I don’t want Jordan to know. Because I already know exactly how that conversation will go.
I cross my arms over my chest and sink further into the sofa, glaring at the TV remote that continues to taunt me.
“Turn it on.”
“Nope.”
“I know you want to.”
I shake my head. “It’s my night off,” I say, but the words feel uncertain.
“As if that’s stopped you in the past,” Jordan says with an exasperated breath before snatching the remote up herself and turning on the game.
I had been wrestling with the urge to put the game on for the last half hour, missing most of the pre-game show, but now that decision was taken out of my hands.
We sit together in silence, both staring down the screen as Annie runs through the last few minutes of the pre-show. It’s a really weird feeling to be watching your co-workers do their jobs when you’re not. It’s an even weirder feeling to be doing it from the comfort of my own sofa.
Jordan is gracious enough to allow me to stew in my silent mood until the commercial break. It’s at that point she mutes the TV and turns her body until she’s fully facing me.
“Was your date shit?”
“It wasn’t a real date,” I mumble. She lifts a single eyebrow at me. “Okay, fine!” I throw my hands up. “He treated the whole thing like a real date. So, I guess it was a real date.”
She gives me a smug smirk, and I want nothing more than to throw a pillow at her and knock the know-it-all look off her face. “Told you so.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question though. Was it shit? Is that why you’ve been grumpy all evening?” She tilts her head, eyes narrowed, examining me.
“It—”
“Nope, that’s not it,” she cuts me off.
“Well, if you would let me speak?—”
“It was good, wasn’t it?” She carries on as if I didn’t even speak. “Too good. And now you’re having your existential crisis.”
I simply blink at her. No point in speaking when she’s figuring it all out on her own with whatever voodoo mind reading shit she’s doing right now.
This is one of those moments where being best friends for nearly a decade comes to bite you in the ass. You can’t hide anything from the other.
“Oh my god,” she gasps out. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
I chew on my lip, holding back my words. Because yes, she’s right.
Obviously, she’s right.
I’ve been in a terrible mood all day because all I can think about is how I want another date with him.
More than one. How I wish I had let him kiss me there on the field.
Very likely more than once. Maybe even forever.
My stomach drops every time I think about the look on his face when he said he had been in love.
I’m jealous. Why the fuck am I jealous of someone I don’t even know?
Was googling Ryan and his past girlfriends to figure out which of them he loved, the first thing I did when I climbed in bed last night?
I’m ashamed to say yes, but that’s exactly what I did.
And my search was all for nothing. He’s never been connected with someone long enough to warrant it being considered a relationship.
So, it’s clearly someone from way back in his past before his MLB days.
Or worse, it’s a secret girlfriend the media never knew about.
“Isa, what does this mean for you two?”
I furrow my brows. “What do you mean?”
“Are you going to date him now?” she asks.
I slump back in my spot and let my eyes drag back to the screen. “You know I can’t,” I whisper. “Game’s back.” I attempt to shut down this line of conversation because that’s the other line of thinking my brain has run off on to put me in a bad mood.
I can want another date and wish for kisses all I want, but at the end of the day am I really willing to risk my career for it? Is this thing worth the attempt? Is he worth it?
The unfortunate thought I keep coming back to is… it might be. He might be.
And that terrifies me.
What if I allow us to give this thing a shot? What if things go terribly wrong?
But what if they go incredibly right?
The top of the first inning flies by and Jordan lets me continue to stay lost in my thoughts, a fact I can’t help but feel grateful for. I’m sure she knows the mental battle I’m waging right now.
She probably also hopes I’ll come to the same conclusion she keeps pushing me toward.
I focus in on where Ryan is sauntering his way up to the plate for his at bat. I’ve seen him play up close enough times that I’ve started to be able to pick up when something is off. And even sitting here on the couch in the comfort of my own home, I can sense something is different.
“He changed his song again?” Jordan asks. “Did you know he was going to do that?”
I give her a dry look. “When do I ever know he’s going to change it?”
“Good point.” She reaches to snatch up the remote and rewinds his walk-up again, cranking the volume up so we can figure out what song he picked. It was part of our bet for him to change his song back to Dre if I won, but I hadn’t.
But listening to the song back, it’s not Dre either.
I don’t recognize the song, but luckily for me, Jordan does.
“Holy shit.”
“What?” My head whips between her and back to where the camera is zoomed in on Ryan’s face as he smiles down at his feet, pushing the dirt around. “What song is it?”
“‘Heat Waves’,” she says, jaw agape, as if I should be familiar with it. Spoiler alert: I’m not.
“Okay? That sounds like a normal song to be using in the middle of an LA summer, no?”
“That’s not it…” She gives me a shocked face.
“How have you never heard this song? It was all over the radio for a while.” She fumbles for her phone, nearly throwing it across the room with the speed at which she’s whipped it out.
Her fingers fly across the screen as she pulls up the song.
It’s not long before the sound carries out from her phone.
She simply watches me as I listen until it reaches the chorus, the section he used.
My eyes snap to hers. At this point, we’re completely ignoring what’s happening on the screen.
Jordan shuts off the song and drops her phone. “Girl, he’s so obsessed with you.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s not allowed to be obsessed with me.”
“Allowed to or not, he is.”
“Jordan, I think I want to make a terrible decision,” I say, voice nearly a whisper, as if the quieter I say it, the less likely the universe will know.
She reaches over and takes my hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I know. You’re obsessed with him too.” She says it like a joke but the look on her face is all soft support.
Liz
Isa, what are your plans for tonight?
Isabella
Well, since I have the night off, I was thinking a relaxing bubble bath, wine, my favorite two men, and binge-watching the new season of that sexy historical romance
I think she’s finally going to fuck the duke!
Jordan
excuse me?
Isabella
Ben and Jerry, Jordan. Jesus
Jordan
oh, right
Liz
*eye roll*
Well throw all those plans out the window!
Isabella
To quote Jordan: excuse me?
Liz
Please. Throw all those plans out the window, please
Isabella
But what on earth would be better than that? :(
Liz
Not a what
A who
Isabella
It’s summer, not quite Grinch season yet
Liz
Isa. SHUT UP
Jordan
oh my god. you upset bubbles! she never sends shouty texts
Isabella
*sigh* Okay, I’ll bite
Who?
Liz
I happen to have secured some very nice seats for a certain sporting event that is happening this evening
Isabella
Oh no
Jordan
OH YES
you beautiful human you!!!!
Isabella
It’s my night off and you’re telling me you want to drag me to the ballpark anyway??
Jordan
that’s exactly what we’re saying
Liz
I’ll be at yours in an hour
Be dressed by the time I get there
Kickoff is at 6pm
Isabella
It’s called the first pitch
Jordan
AW look at our little baby growing up and learning sports things!
seriously though isa. make sure you’re dressed
Isabella
What does one even wear to a baseball game as a spectator?
Jordan
something comfy for this heat obviously
Isabella
*sigh* Fine
The intercom system buzzes almost an hour later, on the dot. Liz is nothing if not punctual. I hear Jordan in the living room scrambling to let her up.
By the time they both barrel into my bathroom, I’m doing the finishing touches on my hair.
I’ve thrown my beachy waves up into a ponytail to help keep me cool in this California heat, and opted to wear my favorite pair of denim shorts with a cropped tank top in LA Suns yellow, because I should try to show some sort of support, right?
But it’s also the first time I’ll see Ryan since our not-date date, and I want to look cute. Sue me.
I grab the tube of tinted lip balm from the counter and swipe a quick coat on before I pop it into my pocket.
I turn and face the girls to see them looking satisfied with themselves.
“Ooo yes, you look great. Really rocking that team spirit,” Jordan says, eyes sparkling with excitement.
I roll my eyes before noticing the bag in Liz’s hands. “What’s that?” I ask with a tilt of my head in its direction.
“Oh, just the finishing touches for your outfit.”
I quirk an eyebrow at her. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing! But it could be a little bit better,” she says, pinching her index and thumb together until they’re about to touch. She digs her hand around in the bag and pulls out a baseball shirt. Jersey? Are they called jerseys in baseball?
“Seriously? You bought me a jersey?”
“Not any jersey,” Jordan chimes in with an overwhelming eagerness on her face that has me bracing for impact.
Liz unfolds the shirt, holding it up so I can get a better look at it. It’s the home jersey. Black with white pinstripes and Suns written across the front in bright yellow with a number 7 tucked right below the last S.
My eyes widen. “You’re joking me.”