I tightened my ponytail and sighed, because I’d suddenly realized after all this my dad wasn’t going to let me go.

“Nice shirt, Charlie,” Braden said, tugging on the back, probably taking in each gaudy fake jewel.

“Yeah, Amber made it.”

“I hope you don’t blind the pitcher with the bling coming off this thing, because I don’t want any pitchers mad at me tonight.”

“Wait.” My dad pointed at Braden. “You’re going?”

“Yes.”

I could actually see the muscles in my dad’s jaw relax. “Why didn’t you say so, Charlie?”

Why didn’t I say so? I should’ve known that would make a difference. “I don’t know. So we can go?”

“Yes. Be careful and call me when you’re heading home.”

“Thanks.” I turned around and mouthed Thank you to Braden as well. His eyes went wide. “What?” I asked, but then remembered how different I must’ve looked in a fitted V-neck jersey and more makeup than I normally wore. “Don’t say a word. I know I look like a clown.”

He shook his head back and forth. “No. You look . . . different.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost.”

“Sorry. It’s not bad.” He looked at my shirt, then up to my face again. “It’s just not you.”

“Two lives, remember?” It was the closest I’d come to referencing our fence talks during the day. “Oh, don’t look now, here comes your hot date.” I watched Amber come down the stairs, and even I knew she was beautiful. Bedazzled shirt and all. In fact, she kind of owned the bedazzled shirt.

Braden smiled his beautiful crooked smile at her, and I watched as her expression beamed pleasant surprise. She hadn’t been happy when I first told her, but I convinced her that Braden would be a way better date than Dustin. And now, looking at Braden and imagining how it would be to see him for the first time, like she was, I realized how gorgeous he was. His auburn hair flopped onto his forehead in a boyish way, but there was nothing boyish about him. He had grown up, filled out, matured. His shoulders were broad, his jaw strong.

I watched the two of them come together and smile shyly at one another. A pang of jealousy radiated through my chest.

I brushed away those unhelpful feelings as he shook Amber’s hand and introduced himself. This was going to be hard. I shouldn’t have invited him. Five minutes later, the doorbell rang and I opened the door. Evan greeted me with a smile that wasn’t anywhere near as familiar as Braden’s. “You look beautiful,” he said.

He looked short. Our first and only meeting had been at the café, sitting around the booth. I didn’t realize how tall he was at the time, but we were basically eye to eye. Granted, I was five-eleven and was surrounded by people over six-three in my everyday life, so I wasn’t used to average.

“Thanks. Come in. My dad wants to meet you.”

He took a deep breath as if preparing for the encounter.

“Dad, this is Evan.”

My dad grabbed his hand in a firm shake. “Drive knowing that if anything happens to my daughter in your car, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Dad.”

“I will, sir.”

“Good.” He finally released his hand.

I managed to hold back an eye roll. “Okay, we’ll see you later.”

As we were leaving, I noticed my dad clamp his hand onto Braden’s shoulder and say something under his breath. Braden smiled and nodded, and then my dad gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Have fun,” he said.

“What was that all about?” I asked Braden when we left the house.

“Oh, you know, protecting-Charlie instructions.”

“Funny.”

Braden gave Evan, who was walking down the path in front of us, a once-over. It wasn’t until Braden paused on Evan’s loafers that I realized he was wearing them. Braden raised his eyebrows at me and I nearly laughed.

Evan slowed his walk so that Braden and I caught up. “I’m Evan.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said, realizing I hadn’t introduced them. “This is Braden. Braden, this is Evan.”

They shook hands, and we resumed our walk to the car. Once we got there, we all stood for a second—each, I was sure, trying to figure out seating arrangements for the long drive.

“Girls in the back?” I suggested, not sure what date protocol was.

“I’ll sit in the back,” Braden said. “Why don’t you take shotgun, Charlie?”

“Are you sure? There’s more leg room up there.”

Amber gave me a withering look that seemed to say Let him sit in the back with me.

“I’m sure,” he said, and I wondered if he was just as excited as Amber about the close quarters.

I nodded, and they climbed into the back as Evan opened the door for me.

“You’re tall,” he said just as I started to get in. It was hard to tell if he was disappointed that I was tall or happy about it. So I just climbed in without a word.

At moments like these, I was grateful for Amber’s chatty nature. She kept the conversation in the car flowing naturally. Once there, I watched Braden’s reaction as we walked into the stadium. His eyes lit up and seemed to take in every detail, committing them to memory. It was pretty awe-worthy. Years of watching baseball on television did not prepare me for how beautiful and big the Coliseum would be. The grass was greener than any I had ever seen and the bases glowed white. Rows upon rows of green plastic seats filled the cement steps.

Evan laughed next to me. “You look starstruck.”

“It’s amazing.”

We worked our way down to seats that were fairly close, right next to first base. I nudged Braden’s arm so we could share a this-is-so-awesome look. He smiled at me, then squeezed my hand once. The gesture surprised me, and just when I was about to look up at Braden to see if there was any hint in his eyes as to what it meant, Evan put his arm around my shoulders and pointed to the home team dugout. “That’s where the A’s will sit.”

I nodded as though he was imparting some sort of new wisdom to me.

“You see that net thing? That’s where the pitcher warms up.”

“She’s not an idiot,” Braden said. “She knows what a practice screen is.”

I shot Braden a look as we all took our seats. Amber and I ended up sitting next to each other with the guys on the outside. Probably a good thing, considering Braden’s previous remarks. I found myself slouching down a little so that I didn’t sit taller than Evan.




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